Date: Sat, 19 Mar 2022 10:30:27 -0400
From: Richard McQueen <mcqueen.richarderic@gmail.com>
Subject: Makarovia! Sure, I Know Where That Is, Chapter 27 Hella Good

Story: Makarovia! Sure, I Know Where That Is

Chapter 27 Hella Good

Author: Eric McQueen (mcqueen.richarderic@gmail.com)

Adult Readers, Sexual Situations, Sex

Freedom of expression is precious. To do that, Nifty needs help. Your
donation is greatly desired. Give to http://donate.nifty.org/ or this story
ends and all the others! That would be a crime!

Helga and Olek marry, and they celebrate with a night at the Grotto. Keep
on Dancin'! (That was a hint.)

Hella Good

After sleeping in our not round bed we had for two weeks, I was waking and
saw sunlight shining through those small windows. Those small windows had
several reasons. They protected us from invasion and weapon fire, and it
helped to keep heat in. Letting in light from the sun was very low on the
list for priorities if that was on it at all. I wondered how much firewood,
torches, and candles were used. In the winter, days would pass, and the sun
could barely be seen. I could see enough to guess the approximate time of
day.

I heard someone's breathing change and the arm around me tighten its hold
on me, re-enforcing my security with our relationship. I looked at my watch
and it told me it close to nine in the morning. We seldom use alarm clocks
unless we had to be at class or meeting someone early in the morning. That
didn't happen for the past two weeks.

"Olek's getting married in four to five hours," I said.

Peter stretched a little to wake up. "What time is it?"

"Eight fifty-two."

Peter brought me closer and groaned. "I guess we need to get up," He
sighed. "We need tell Olek and Yuri about Cosmo. They need to call the
hospital in Athens."

I nodded, "There is an hour difference there. It's seven fifty-two in
Greece."

"Okay," Peter said, wonder in his voice asked why that was important.

"Morning rounds?" I suggested as a hint. "Doctors go around and check with
patients and check for any change in their health, both good and bad."

I was pulled flat, and Peter slid on top of me. He manually pinned my arms
in place, "Okay, I know you had some deaths and learned from experience,
but you know a Hell of a lot more you could get by observation and
caregiving a few people. You've done it."

"I told you," I grinned. "I seriously considered Psychiatry. That requires
a medical degree."

"You did say that" Peter nodded, "but you describe procedures, injuries,
and illness like you more the saw it, but did them! Yourself!"

I laughed, "Some I did. I got blood pressures and temperatures for those
doctors for their rounds."

I saw Peter's eyes widen, "You did." He said to confirm.

"Yes, me!" I shook my head, "By my junior year of high school. I was
seriously considering getting my medical doctor degree. Grandpa had died
and this was before my mother was terminally diagnosed." I shrugged, "That
year I was a volunteer after class and on the weekends. I was in Central
Supply. I delivered a lot things like ted-hose for compressing the legs,
foley catheters and sterilized prewrapped packages for some surgical
utensils..." We were speaking Makarovian and as I said before, the medical
procedures and things used the same words.

"You were allowed to put in catheters?"

"Not that year," I answered. "I was allowed to watch, with the patient's
permission." I smiled. "I caught the attention of an attending doctor," I
looked at Peter. "Do you know what an attending is?"

Peter nodded, "He or she is in charge of individual patients and their
care."

"That's right," I smiled. "He is the nicest man." I shook my head. "He is
from the Netherlands, and he had an accent making him hard to understand at
times...for others. I never had any trouble."

Peter tilted his head but looked suspecting something else. "Why do I sense
you've left something out?"

"I had a crush on him," I confessed.

"How old was he?"

"He was in his late thirties and early forties," I answered, "but no, we
didn't do anything. He was married!"

"So?"

"I was not going to be the other person in his life! He was a good-looking
man. Dr. Jon Donkervoet." I shrugged, "He seemed to like what I did at the
hospital and had me enrolled as a trainee where credits were earned that
could transfer to college. He insisted I have a job there." I shrugged, "My
senior year I had a job after school and weekends."

"They allowed you to do those things there?"

I nodded, "It was part of the Medical University and a teaching hospital. I
did things with supervision, so nothing invasive."

"You put a catheter up dicks! That's not invasive!?"

I laughed, "Well, technically, it is internal, but...you have three holes;
your mouth, penis, and anus with a long tube that joins the three
holes. You absorb nutrients as food passes through and gets rid what is
waste the same way and released using the other holes, but in reverse. When
I put in a catheter, I wasn't piercing the skin. Then it would have been
invasive."

"Okay," Peter said cautiously. "You've never done anything invasive."

"Not at first and, God forgive me," I shook my head, "but guys were so
easy. You simply a tube up his tube." I shrugged. "Women were harder for
me."

Peter grinned, "Why?"

I shuttered, "I..." I began. "I'll say this, if I had any doubts about my
sexuality; that would have confirmed it. I do not like vaginas. But get
this! When it began to circulate I was gay, I started to get requests from
staff to put them in!" I shrugged. "I could do it and quickly to not have
to look at it. The staff said who better to do than someone who doesn't
like them? I was safe!"

Peter nodded with a chuckle, "I can understand that."

I shrugged, "There was Phlebotomy..." Again, the word was so similar. He
knew what I said.

"You took blood from a vein."

"Many times," I said and thought. "I don't believe a day went by I didn't
do it."

"Supervised," Peter asked to qualify.

"At first," I nodded. "It's not that difficult." Then a memory
came. "That's also when my mother was diagnosed with cancer."

"You said you stayed to help care for her," Peter said. "You have knowledge
and talent for medicine, and you seem love it. What happened?"

The uneasy discomfort of memories and unpleasant feelings came back, and I
watched Peter's face lose his normal expression. "When Dad died, I was a
kid. I spent many hours at the hospital. I didn't really understand what
was happening. His death wasn't quick. He got this...infection...after he
was being treated for a head injury."

"You don't have to tell me," Peter said softly.

I nodded, "I do. You're my husband." I swallowed louder than I usually
do. "The infection was Meningitis, the inflammation of the membrane that
covers the brain and spinal cord?" Peter nodded, so I went on. "His head
injury did crack open the skull but could be treated for that. I found out
later it was the viral version of Meningitis. Meaning he got it from
someone who was a caregiver there who didn't wash their hands after going
to the bathroom and had a bowel movement! His head was bandaged so not
exposed. It's the only way he could have gotten it."

Peter's eyes widened again as he quickly crossed himself, "Jesus Christ!!"
Peter would say damn, Hell, and occasionally shit. Never had he said
that. It was a prayer. "He shouldn't be dead!"

I shook my head, "No, he shouldn't. They gave him medicines to stop it." I
shook my head, "All that did was prolong his death. It took three weeks for
him to die." I took a breath. "A few years later for us, Grandpa
drops. Dead. That one was quick. When Mom got cancer, at first, I kept
going with my schedule. Even with Grandma's help it was just too much." I
saw my vision blur a little and tears were coming. "I began to hate that
hospital and medicine."

Peter's eyes were reddening, "I am so sorry." He released my arms and
hugged me.

"I just wanted to escape death," I confessed. "Medicine would put it back
in my life. I couldn't do it anymore. No death is easy on anyone. I've had
a sudden death, quicker death, and a lingering death. They all hurt."

Peter didn't say it will be alright and other trite things. Those weren't
comforting. He was there.



It was almost ten in the morning when we arrived in the dining area. Olek
and Helga were sipping coffee having finished eating. Everybody else went
to start their day.

"I was starting to worry," Helga said.

"I told Peter about some tough moments in the past," I said a little
sadly. "About the deaths of my parents and grandparents."

Olek with sympathy, "Is everything alright?"

I nodded, "Yes. I promise to tell you, but there is something you should
know about Cosmo."

"First," Peter smiled, "we need coffee."

Our coffees were gotten, and two steaming plates were placed in front of
us.

Once we had told Olek and Helga about the possible complications with
Cosmo, Olek was nodding toward the end.

"Of course," Olek stated. "Cosmo will stay here until he can return to
work. No questions." He thought a moment. "Mikell has a certified copy of
the Power of Attorney with him. I'll talk with Yuri. We should have the
original here on file in the Security Office." He smiled. "We can call it
in about an hour from now."

Peter chuckled, "Just don't forget; you're getting married today."

Olek grinned, "I'll forget my head before I forget that." He looked at
Helga. "It's really a formality today."

"It can be more than that," I argued. "You are about to do something you've
never done, Olek." I looked at Helga, "I don't really know about your split
with your ex-husband, but it might be gratifying if he is shown who he
lost," I shrugged. "Every little girl I know wishes to be a princess and
have a big, fancy, magical fairytale wedding and I know there will be a
wedding in about a year," I squinted an eye and pointed at her, "but you;
won't become a princess. You'll be a Queen!"

Helga chuckled, "The person would pay good money to see is Marg's
reaction. She is my ex-mother-in-law."

"Gosh," Olek said in perfect English and then back to Makarovian and added
sarcastically, "A son's mother doesn't like his wife. I've never heard of
such a thing."

"Oh, she more than just didn't like me," Helga laughed at the
absurdity. "That woman loathed me! No one was good enough for Kent."

"You have a doctorate's degree!" I said, "And there's just a few women that
can hold a candle to you in beauty," I paused, "Mom could, but you're both
stunning!" I pressed my hand to my own chest. "I'm gay and if I can see
it. She should have! You're beauty and brains!! What more could she want?"

Helga smiled and nodded, "Thank you. There is one thing in particular she
wanted. Control! Control of Kent and she tried with me. That wouldn't
work."

I nodded smiling, "Because you are both German!"

"What!?" Olek asked sort of smiling. "Why does that mean anything?"

I wasn't bothered at all and explained, "Germans are known to be inflexible
and once in place takes a lot to get them to move. They stay."

Olek chuckled, "Who told you that?"

"A German-American," I answered instantly. "Karla." I grinned. "I'm sure
there are some agents that would be willing to find her and slap her for
you."

Helga was smiling more. "That is tempting, but Karla is an American,
right?" Helga stated to clarify.

I nodded, "Yes, she was born in America," Raising that finger to make a
point. "She was. Her parents met and married in Berlin. They were
Germans. Karla's father and mother came to the United States on student
visas to go to school." I looked at them. "Do you know the term anchor
baby? That was Karla."

Two pair of eyes just stared at me.

I chuckled, "Any child born on American soil is a citizen. They used Karla
to stay in the United States. Making Karla the anchor that allow them to
stay."

Olek nodded, "That makes sense."

I scowled looking at Peter, "See what I mean? There is always too many
damned rabbits!"

"Rabbits??" Helga responded baffled. "What..."

"Should I have said hasenpfeffer?" I asked.

"Peppered rabbit!?" Helga was thinking and then smiled, "Do you mean hase?"

"Do I?" I asked looking from Olek to Peter, "I was thought that was the
German word for rabbit."

Helga shook her head laughing, "It is, but usually it has to be cooked and
pepper added to be hasenpfeffer."

"Who taught you that word?" Olek asked.

"From a great instructor," I said grandly, "I'm sure I mentioned this
before. The one and only...Bugs Bunny!"

Helga now had tears in her eyes as now. The laughter got louder. Olek was
laughing hard now holding his side as if they would burst or drop off. You
may already know about good humor and health. I did that for the niece or
nephew that was coming. Laughter is the best medicine. It will reduce pain,
sharpen your mind, and strengthens the family.

Is there anyone who doesn't know who that famous rabbit? You might not know
if you've never seen a television. The developed countries had TVs
everywhere. Bugs was translated into many languages for people that can't
understand English to be enjoyed.

"Damn it," I said, "and we're doing it again!!"

Peter snickered, "It means a new topic comes up like rabbits from their
hole and begin to pursue the new topic and lose the first one."

Again, there was that nod and two long "oooh."

"Where was I? We talked about Bugs, because we talked about of Mr. Fluffy
Long-ears." I remembered, but this more fun. I was doing it for the baby. A
happy mother is a healthy mother. Comedy was almost always welcome.

Peter leaned toward me and said reminding me, "The marriage?"

"Yes!" I brightened, "Don't be like my great-grandmother and
great-grandfather." I indicated with my hand going from one side to the
other "She was Dad's side of the family."

"The bootleggers?" Peter grinned.

"That was only for family and close friends." I shot back.

Peter nodded, "And how many friends were made after they knew about..." he
thought a second, "What do you call it? Moonshine?"

"It goes by many names! And you are scaring another rabbit up. Stop it." I
looked back as Olek and Helga were still chuckling. "She married my
great-grandfather at thirteen. She gave birth to her first child at
fourteen." I hurried on. "They had a judge or preacher to perform the
marriage in the front yard of the house he built on the family's land. They
had witnesses but guess what happened next." No one was answering the
question. "The witnesses go home and the preacher to someone
else. Great-grandmother went in to make both their lunch."

"How old was your grandfather?" Helga asked. "She was thirteen!?"

"He was seventeen and in two months turned eighteen." I grinned. I grew up
hearing those tales they swore were true. I'll just direct you to the fish
story that grows bigger as it's told. "Many of the families married each
other which made hard to find anyone we weren't related to us. When you
did, you married them. Quickly. Before they get away."

"What year was this?" Olek asked.

"Nineteen-twelve," I smiled. "We shouldn't just go back to our routine. A
marriage is a life altering event." I looked at Helga.

"Why don't we go to the Grotto?" Peter asked. "It's in a secluded area, but
there will be hundreds of people there."

"Have you ever been?" I asked.

Olek used a phrase when he learned he missed something, "I've been busy!"

"Don't make me get Mom involved," Peter said.

There was a puzzled look from Helga.

I pointed at Olek while looking at Helga, "He didn't tell you?"

"A year ago," Peter began. "He had never taken time off for even a weekend
in years. Mom, Eric, and I practically had to force him to take a week
off!"

"I know she'll side with us," I said. "We don't have to give a reason we
go, but I wish to. This isn't a typical day."

"Fine," Olek nodded, then suddenly pointing at Peter. "She and Mario go, as
well." He sighed and then got serious. "I need to tell you." He leaned
forward and rested his arms on the table. Not exactly proper royal manners,
but we were family. "I got a message last night...that radical group that
launched that missile at us?" He asked.

Peter and I both nodded. Peter went on, "The one that hit that town in
Turkey?"

"Yes," Olek nodded, but wasn't happy. "I was sent this." He pulled his
phone out and tapped on it quickly, the turned his phone around so we could
see what had to be some sort of compound. Military? There was a single
launchpad of sorts there. I couldn't tell where it was, but it was a desert
country in a predawn light, but someone had recorded this to be seen. There
were these bright, burning streaks that came from the sky, hard and
fast. Three, and then four and five streaks as flames erupted from the
ground where those streaks made impacts with the earth. The flames and
explosions obscured any structures that made up this compound.

"Damn!" Peter managed but was impressed by the power of what we saw. "That
was where the missile came from!?"

Olek gave a shrugging nod. "According to whoever this was that sent by?
Yes." He closed the video clip off. "Yuri is verifying it now."

"Who did this!?" I asked in a blurted question. "That clearly was done by
people that know how!"

Peter agreed. "Those extremists that sent the first missile toward us
proved they didn't know what they were doing!"

Olek nodded sadly again. "Yes, but no ONE group is claiming this. The
message with the video said in English, they are watching our backs."

The way Olek said it in English sounded very American. "They know it was
them!?" I asked to confirm. "Or do they suspect it was from them."

Olek again gave a shrugging nod. "They say that they have proof. Those in
the government of Turkey will neither confirm nor deny they were
involved. It could have been the Special Forces Command, the OKK...the
Özel Kuvvetler Komutanlıği..." he looked at Peter and
I warily, "They do things that exceed what their regular Turkish Armed
Forces will do."

"Surely, not because of us!" Peter denied.

"Not just for us," Olek nodded. "It could be for the extremists' stupidity
and retaliation for the loss of innocent lives in Turkey. Yuri is
confirming what we received. Or, they could be trying to ingratiate
themselves with us for a greater amount of our uranium..."

I hated anyone lost a life, "How many were killed for this strike?"

"Thirty-eight is the guesstimate for now." Olek answered, but then looked
firmly at us and held his finger up. "Remember, they weren't concerned with
the lives we would lose in Makarovia!"

"Why does anyone have to die!?" I moaned.

"Because they know they're right and we are wrong." Olek stated
simply. "Yuri will tell us more later."



We returned to our room and quickly sent emails I said I would. Email is
one of the greatest things! And don't forget word processing! I typed out a
letter and simply hit "send." I texted all our agents to meet us to go to
the Grotto. It didn't take long for me to get messages back. They were all
coming.



A judge was coming to conduct the marriage. I wondered why one of the
priests wasn't. They weren't breaking a commandment or law...wait a
minute. Yes, they did. One of the no-no's was about adultery and
pre-marital sex and Helga was carrying the result of that. Peter and I came
into our room.

"Why is a judge performing the marriage?" I asked as we sat on the couch.

"Probably because Olek won't confess," Peter answered. "I know Olek." He
chuckled a little with a sharp edge on the laugh. "I also know the Church's
official stance on things. Except for you and me, all sin is
forgiven. Yours and mine can be, too. If we confess it is a sin and quit
doing it. Olek will have to do that as well...and Helga, but they don't see
what they did was a sin."

"The priest doesn't have to be told." I suggested, "She's not showing."

Peter shook his head, "Olek won't do that. That's hypocritical."

I nodded grinning, "I see."

"I don't know what the church you went to did," Peter explained smiling,
"but to marry here in the Church they must be cleansed. Both need to
confess to starting off clean." He looked at me a bit concerned, "You don't
think they did anything wrong, do you?"

"I sure can't throw any stones," I snorted. "The majority of people can't
either, straight or gay." I shrugged. "He didn't just use her and then
discard her. What were Olek's goals with Helga?"

Peter now looked a bit dazzled by the question. "I... assume so he wouldn't
be alone."

"Were they wrong to do what they did?" I shook my head. "They did what was
Human. Using the Bible, yes it was. The Bible is the best example of man's
sinful depth. It has stories of murder, sex, and incest. It makes The Young
and The Restless, Days of Our Lives, Dynasty, Falcon Crest, Dallas, and
Knots Landing pale in comparison. You know about Lot, right? Abraham's
brother?"

"He escaped Sodom's destruction."

I nodded, "And his wife was punished for her doing what God said not
to. She was turned to salt when she looked back."

Peter smiled, "I did pay a little attention in Sunday School."

"Then," I said, "you know what his two virgin daughters did after that."

"Not that much attention," Peter said.

"They plotted," I said. "They got him drunk and for two nights they had sex
with him. Each had boys."

Peter's eyes grew again in shock, "He was their father! He was the two
boys' father and grandfather!?"

"Yep!" I shrugged. "The daughters assumed everyone was killed and they
would not get husbands, so..."

"How did they come out without two heads or something!?" Peter balked.

"You'll have to ask someone else that question," I shrugged. "There's
murder and adultery all over the Bible."

Peter nodded, "You found all this interesting, so you remember it."

"I was riveted!" I said happily. "A man, who has an affair with the wife
whose husband is away, gets her pregnant, tries and fails to get the
husband to sleep with his wife to cover it up, and orders the poor man
killed as punishment for not sleeping with her!"

Peter's mouth dropped open, "Who did that!?"

"King David," I said, "All because he saw Bathsheba taking a bath on the
roof of her home." I saw his eyes look away as he absorbed it. "I can show
you in black and white. It's in the Old Testament..."

Peter shook his head, "I believe you, but I've never heard about that." He
nodded, "I knew about the bath. They only use it occasionally as a warning
to show what happens with the sin of lust."

"That's not surprising," I chuckled. "Most of the churches that came from
the Catholic Church do that. It's all about a loving God, of peace, and
keeping the calm. Lessons about God's anger and vengeance are only used to
drive home a point. Like the sin of homosexuality." I pulled Peter back and
brought his face to look at me. "It wasn't told to me in my church either."
I sighed, "When Grandpa died Mom, and Grandma thought I could use a moral
compass and encouraged me to go to a youth group. They weren't in any way
affiliated with the Catholic Church or the others. They were Presbyterian."

"Presbyterian?" Peter's face scrunched a little, "But they're..."

"Some of the best-learned students of anything biblical," I answered
quickly finishing for him. "When they studied a book of the Bible, they
studied a book; they dissect it. Pulling all of the stories out and
examined them fully and laid everything out for all to see." I smiled.

"They didn't try to make you one of them?" Peter asked.

"No," I chuckled again. "They showed the facts and let me decide. They
examined it down to the original words and meanings in old Hebrew and
Greek." I looked around our room. "I still am not sure of their view on
predestination. It's hard to believe. All this was planned before I was
even born!? I'm no Saint." I smiled again. "I believe God allows us to
decide."

Peter smiled back, "I don't know." The sound of doubt was in his
voice. "You were heading in the direction of medicine and switched to
another. Our first class was in Economics. It was both our first class at
Northeastern and in fifteen minutes, we were assigned to a project we had
to do together." He leaned in kissing me. "That was kind of miraculous. Who
is to say it wasn't a planned destiny?"



I rarely do this. I stood in our closet wondering what to wear. "It's not
casual, but it's not formal either."

Peter's voice came as he searched through his clothes, "Olek said don't
even put on a suit." Peter was right, the clothes just...seemed to
reproduce.

"Would it be so terrible if someone figures it out Olek and Helga got
married?" I asked. "The judge knows and all of us know..."

Peter snorted, "Runaway rumors get distorted. You know that."

I gave a grudging nod, "I suppose." I turned to Peter, "But in his
office!?" I held up my hand as Peter was about to explain. "I know. It's
just to cover them legally. I understand, but..." I waved at the sun
shining in the small windows, "it's beautiful out!"

"It's their marriage," Peter shrugged.

I grimaced, "I don't recall anyone asking us about ours!" I growled. "No,
it was stand here, say this, bow here and do that..."

Peter's smile grew, "He is king."

"Yeah," It was all I could say. "That's right."



Dressed nicely, but not too nice wasn't easy. We did it and went down to
Olek's office. He was speaking with a man about fifty. Gray streaked
through his dark hair and concentrated at his temples. I knew many
Makarovians now, but this one I knew from attending Peter's and my wedding.

Olek looked up and smiled, "Peter, Eric, this is Justice Avel Kushnir."

The man smiled and bowed to us, "Your Highness."

"He is on the Council of Judges for Makarovia," Olek said. "He keeps things
running when I'm not here. He and the other judges are me."

The man looked at Olek surprised, "Oh, no!" He said quickly. "No one could
do what you've done. I know Makarovian Law. We can make adjustments and
make amendments to the law, but you cover so much! Foreign policy with both
friendly countries and enemies, you meet with the leaders of them. You have
to know about uranium and mining, international business and start
improvements underground. You have your hand in just about everything. Few
men could do that."

Yes, he really said that, but it was said with such sincerity. It wasn't
just to win points with Olek or talk him into anything. He knew how hard
Olek's job was. He meant it.

It occurred to me. "How did you get your education on the Law in Makarovia?
There are no universities here."

He chuckled, "After the Soviets cleared out in 1991, Kyiv Mohyal became the
greatest school of law in Ukraine. I passed a few tests and won a
scholarship." He shrugged and went on. "I worked and got my undergraduate
degree and went to Law School. Makarovian Law is there. I just had to learn
them."

"You came back," Peter marveled. "Many Makarovians don't."

Mr. Kushnir nodded and smiled slyly, "I couldn't marry my husband there."
He chuckled. "We met in school there."

Okay. I was surprised, but I shouldn't have been. You turn a corner and run
into another couple in a same-sex relationship. Almost half of Makarovia's
population was homosexual. Remember? It wasn't fair, but most were men. I
often forgot! But it made sense! There were some educated people in
Makarovia, but they were few. Almost all of those were outcasts in other
neighboring countries.

I stuck my hand out to him, "Their loss is our gain."



I understood using Olek's office. It was just large enough for
everyone. Olek, Mr. Kushnir, Yuri, Boris, Peter, and I were waiting. It was
telling that none of the women were here at the moment. Mario entered,
without Mom. Helga didn't mention bridesmaids or anything. Seeing Mario
here, I wondered if this was going to be in English. Mario was a witness,
too. Could he be a witness to this if he didn't know what was being said?

"This marriage will be in English," Olek said, "Is everyone okay with
that?"

I narrowed an eye at Olek, "I'm fine with the English part." I muttered,
"but can everyone in this family read my mind now?"

Olek's eyes widened, "Read your mind?"

Peter chuckled pulling me close to Olek, "He said I was doing that on the
Duchess."

"I think something, and he would voice it," I explained. "And I hadn't said
a thing. What do you call that? Now, you're doing it."

Olek laughed, "Do I say I'm sorry?"

Before I could answer, the office door opened. Helga entered with Mom and
Grandma behind her.

Just a marriage? Maybe, but Helga had her hair arranged a little more
elaborately but still long. There was no gown, but a nice dress she
probably wouldn't wear to work. Mom looked...like Mom. She was dressed up
as she always was. Grandma was, too. Just a marriage. Whoever heard of
that!? Even the day felt different to me, and it should. Yes, I was a
romantic. When two people meet and there is this connection, I loved it!
They couldn't help it. It wasn't their fault they were straight. (I had to
put that in.)

Avel Kushnir smiled and looked a little uncertain. "I was told simply
legally marry the two of you." He squinted at Olek, "Are you sure about
that?" He looked at Helga. "Is this what you both want?"

Olek looked at Helga and they both were having difficulty answering the
question.

Mom smiled, "I'd say that means they don't want it to be just a marriage
today."

"There will be a more elaborate wedding later," Olek said.

"I said it before," I said, "today your status changes. Forever!"

Peter nodded in agreement, "There should be more than just signatures on
paper."

"Fine," Olek relented. "What do we do?"

"Face the fireplace," Mom instructed Olek and Helga. She took Mr. Kushnir
by the shoulders and literally walked him to face Olek and Helga with his
back to the elegant fireplace. She looked at Olek, "You said you waited for
Peter to come back. Is he going to be your Best Man?"

"I really hadn't spoken to them about it," Olek grinned, "I was hoping he
and Eric would both do it at the wedding. Can't I have Best Men or Best
Couple?"

Yuri laughed, "You're the king. Sure, you can!"

Olek turned to us, "Will you?"

Peter smiled back, "It would be an honor."

Olek hugged us both and he shook a scolding finger at me, "When you sign as
a witness on the marriage license; remember, you're an Ivanov now."

I wondered why he said that only a second. Peter looked shocked and my eyes
widened in shock, "I didn't even tell Peter! Who told you about that?" I
demanded as I tried to remember who was with me at the time. I turned to
Peter. "We were in Malta in the village of Sweethaven." I quickly
said. "Popeye's Village? Peter was with Luke and...a little boy about eight
ran up to me and asked for an autograph. I did it, but I had a lapse! I
signed the wrong name. It happened once! So, I signed it again." The others
were laughing. "Once! How did you find out?"

"Alec told Mikell, who told Yuri, who told me," Olek chuckled.

I huffed, "If I didn't like these guys, I'd kill them."

"Can we continue?" Mom asked me, but she was amused, too.

I looked at Helga and the judge, "Yes. Sorry." Mom positioned both Peter
and me at Olek's side.

Mom looked at Helga and asked, "Is there someone you plan to have as a Maid
of Honor or Matron of Honor?"

Helga shook her head and said sadly, "No. I wanted my father to walk me
down the aisle. He died. My mother became a recluse and a drunk. I don't
know where my sister is..."

"I told you, once it's announced," Olek said. "She'll surface."

"I can tell you where my ex-husband Kent is," she laughed with little
humor. "I can tell you where Marg, his mother is. My mother was pretty
destroyed when my father died. They aren't really people you want here."

Mom smiled, "If you decide later, we can include whoever you like."

"Would you do it?" Helga asked and then looked back at Grandma, "You, Alla,
and Katrina?"

Mom nodded and Grandma said, "Absolutely."

Helga looked at an amused Olek. "You have two, why shouldn't I?" She asked
a little indignant.



"The circumstances of this marriage aren't that unique," Avel Kushnir said
with a smile. "When two people meet and there's a special connection, they
feel it." He chuckled, "Well, my personal experience was, one felt it more
and has to convince the other it's there." He didn't elaborate about which
one had to convince whom. "It becomes so obvious, that other people can see
it, too. I refer to Prince Pedro and Prince Eric. Now, it is with His
Majesty King Olek and the lovely Lady Helga."

She would be a Lady after the marriage is announced and after the
Proposal. That's Lady as in Lords and Ladies. Olek was very much a Grand
Lord.

"Makarovia views the world differently than any country I ever heard of."
He chuckled again. "We see the many sides of Humans and see love as
love. Two adults want to join their lives to make one life for the two of
them to share is not discouraged or met with hate. I know several current
Monarchs have children outside of their marriage. The child of Olek and
Helga is not something to be ashamed of and will never be." He smiled at
Olek, "A king taking ownership of the situation is unique. You don't think
the child was an error or a mistake." Mr. Kushnir looked momentarily
uncomfortable. "I'm required to ask. Is there any reason this marriage
should not occur?" He looked at all of us and then smiled again, "Now that
that's done. Do you King Olek Ivanov take Helga Renee Schneider as your
wife? Taking her in sickness and health, in wealth or poor and only her
until death parts you?"

"I do," Olek said.

I knew she probably had a middle name and now, I knew what it was!

"Do you, Helga Renee Schneider take Olek Ivanov to be your husband? Taking
him in sickness and health, in wealth or poor and only him until death
parts you?"

Neither Olek nor Peter had middle names. That was odd in royal families. I
knew of a prince that had so many, his future wife confused the order of
those names when taking her vows. It's now a famous blunder received by the
world as humorous.

"I do," Helga said.

Avel looked at Olek and Helga, "Are there any words? Your Majesty?"

"Just this," Olek said and looked at her. "I was so caught up in what I had
to do; I lost the ability to live. I was never alone, but so lonely. You
came and added balance to my life. I love you. I want you to be that
balance for me from now on."

Helga had to wipe her face of the happy tears that were coming. She laughed
quickly and said, "I devoted my life to what I needed to do. I felt I had
to get people to see me, but you did. From the first meeting, you saw me
and listened. Despite those things I did to hide, you saw me. You helped me
go from an Engineer to a woman. I love you, Olek."

Olek was about to kiss her, but Avel stopped him, "If you wait a minute,
you'll be kissing your wife." He chuckled and looked at us. "Rings?"

In some cases, in the past, men didn't wear wedding rings often. Women
did. (When they could get them and afford rings.) I didn't see that as
fair. She wears a symbol of belonging to him. Why shouldn't he wear a
symbol of belonging to her? The excuse men used about losing it or it
getting it caught when he was working really didn't settle things for me. I
was pleased when Helga held up a simple gold band. Olek wore the ring with
the Makarovian Crest on his right hand and a watch. That's it. Olek held up
a smaller one for Helga's smaller hand and finger. Did she carry it in? I
didn't see Olek reach in a pocket. Granddad said, if you really want to
know, you'll remember and ask. It must not have mattered because I still
don't know.

"Place the ring on her finger and say, I do this as your husband," Avel
instructed.

Olek did. "I do this as your husband."

Avel nodded, "My Lady, please do the same for His Majesty."

Helga did it, too. "I do this as your wife."

Avel bounced, "In front of these witnesses and by my authority to do this
in Makarovia. You two are married." He grinned at Olek, "Now, you may kiss
your wife!"

Olek pulled her toward him and gave a pretty smoldering kiss to Helga.

I once said I was jealous of Helga. I admitted it, remember? I was a little
in love with Olek. He was a handsome man, strong and he was a King. Who
wouldn't be? I will also admit I'd never leave Peter and you know
that. Helga treated Olek so well! She didn't cower because he was a king
but loved and supported him as a man. She loved Olek. Now, I saw them as
almost perfect. Just behind Peter and me, of course!



"It's done," Peter said, "We'll see you at dinner." He turned as if to
leave the office. He was so convincing I almost believed he would.

"Do you think I would allow this to be just a marriage?" Mom asked. "How
long have you known me, Olek?"

Olek nodded grinning, still holding Helga. "Since before I remember much of
anything. What did you do?"

"What did I do?" Mom looked at Olek in mocking offense and said, "I didn't
do anything."

Meaning she had someone else do it. Even Mario was smiling a little more,
probably because he knew exactly what Queen Alla had planned.

Boris stepped forward and said calmly, "I was the one to do the something."
His hesitant smile hoping it would be taken well. He almost hurried on and
said, "Our king was getting married for the first time, and he is more than
just a king, but a dear friend who made me and Yuri family. I couldn't just
let that go."

Yuri nodded, "I hope there is nothing too pressing to do today. You'll
probably miss it."

Olek shook his head but was smiling, "Fine. You all are determined to make
sure there is more than a simple marriage. What are we doing and how many
others know about this?"

"No one knows, but a few others I'm sure suspect," Yuri assured. He waved
at Helga and Olek. "If you wear those rings, my security agents will know
and others who see them, too and what it means."

Olek nodded again, "Well, mine doesn't come off."

Helga raised her left hand and said, "Neither does mine."



I've explained the use of humor as a coping skill with Peter and me. The
same was true for the rest of the family. The main reason was, we were
close and very happy. Stressors and threats were all around, but not
here. I'm sure some were here in Makarovia; however, all of Makarovia would
protect us. Our allies here would also help to protect us. That was both
good and bad. Good that they were willing to help, even if it was motivated
by their own best interests. I knew both Commanding Generals were real
friends so it would be more personal. It was bad because there were so many
new faces in Makarovia.

When I tell you, please remember why I tell you. It was easier if they were
another race. Asian or African people were practically unknown here. It
wasn't because they weren't welcome here. They just didn't come! Asians
from India were unknown except on television. Chinese, Japanese or Korean
were unknown, also known on television. Most people in Makarovia were all
East European and more closely related to Dracula and his people than
anyone else. They were right next door! White Racial Supremacist wouldn't
like the number of homosexuals here. We had less breeding stock
available. Hell! Most people didn't come for that reason unless they were
also homosexual and wanted to blend with the many others. There were
conventional families here. Many Makarovians were born and raised here,
too.

Humor also tightened the bonds between people in a family. It did with us.



Boris had made lunch...or dinner. I struggled with that before. Linner? If
the palace staff talked to each other and you know they did; they're
Human. It happened. No one would betray Olek or Makarovia. The aromas that
greeted me from the massive kitchen were tempting me without telling me
what it was. It was something both Olek and Helga loved.

Without the comedy Henri used, we were served bowls of soup. It was almost
a stew with chunks of onions in it. It looked...busy. Yes, I know, I'll
explain what I mean. There were little pea-sized things scattered
throughout this stew. They were small and whitish in color looking almost
like that little round pasta things in a couple of Italian dishes I knew
of. Tony told me it was semolina. I wasn't Italian.

Helga smiled and asked. "Is this Harira!?"

Boris smiled and nodded, and Helga squealed a little and was ready to dig
in.

"Cure my ignorance," I said, "What is Harira?"

Helga laughed lightly and said, "It's a Moroccan dish with lamb." She
looked up with a warning. "Many think it's kind of spicy. It has ginger,
cayenne, and other peppers in it."

I nodded, "That's an enticement, not discouragement." I shrugged, "I just
haven't had that much lamb."

"Why not?" Peter asked puzzled.

"How many barnyards of sheep do you know of in the United States?" I
challenged Peter, "How much traffic was held up because of sheep crossing
the road in the United States?" I didn't wait for a reply. "None! Cows we
got, chickens we got, pigs we got, but we ain't got sheep."

Boris gave a grudging nod, "Not that it matters, but it is more expensive
meat in the United States." He looked at Olek, "You were there the last
time I served it in Boston."

I nodded, "Most everyone in the United States thinks lambs are spotless
symbol of the purest innocence."

Olek shrugged but kept eating.

"It's served every morning of Ramadan," Helga explained. "I think it's
delicious."

She was right about that the spicy part, but I'd had better. It was a slow
bite of spice.

Then hot plates of something I couldn't begin to guess about. On some long,
flat egg-noodle pasta were these round balls like meatballs. They were to
carry the sauce or gravy. They were covered with gravy but nothing about it
made it look, smell, or taste like a pasta dish I had ever had.

"It's Kaese Spaetzle," Boris explained before we asked. "It's a German
macaroni and cheese with Hungarian spices, ground lamb and feta cheese
balls."

I had no expectations, but it wasn't anything I could have gotten in Italy
or Greece. It was damned good, but nothing I thought it might be. For
instance, they had. more than just paprika. That red sprinkles on food?
They had sweet paprika and sharp paprika.

There was even a cake. It wasn't a wedding cake, but chocolate on
chocolate. The cake was moist chocolate, and the icing was chocolate, but
it was very rich tasting chocolate like Swiss or Belgian Chocolate. So
rich, I knew if I had more than one slice, I'd be sick. It might be worth
the risk.

"This has really got to stop," Peter groaned in a quiet voice to me. "The
scale will be going in the wrong direction."

I smiled, "We can increase our activity at the Grotto in a few hours."

"And you," Peter pointed at Olek, Helga, Mom, and Mario, "agreed to
come. No taking that back."

"Grandma," I said, "I know you'd never turn down an opportunity to dance."

"You're right and I'm not going to now," Grandma said.

They had never been. Using a phrase Olek used often, they were busy! Our
agents and friends were meeting us at the Grotto. Transport to the Grotto
was the reason. Mercea and Alec were catching a ride with Rolph and
Andreea. They had access to a vehicle.

The need for security would always be considered important. Even in
Makarovia. We had Yuri, Rolph, Mercea, and Alec, but they weren't on
duty. Yuri was always on duty even when he wasn't supposed to be. We added
four more very wary men. They were wary not just because they were guarding
the entire family of Makarovia. They were under the watchful eyes of
Yuri. Yuri's reputation of absolute and almost ruthless expectations of
more than near perfection was known even if he was based in Boston!



As I was about to get into one of the two large black Mercedes-Benz SUVs, I
saw the polished, shiny red of my Mustang and sighed a bit sadly. I missed
him! He was well maintained, but not by me. It was a toy. It wasn't needed
by me now. That made it a toy and don't go on about the status of owning a
Mercedes. It did in the United States and Canada. England? I don't know. It
was function before form. These were armored. Sort of like the limousine in
London. You didn't see what was armored. They were nice and comfortable,
but Mercedes was more widely available in Europe and East Europe. They were
often used as utility vehicles such as trucks and taxis. There was no real
"status change" for owning one.

Peter heard me, looked knowing something was wrong and glanced at what I
was looking at.

He smiled patiently with understanding. "I'm sure one more vehicle wouldn't
hurt."

It was so tempting to do it, but I shook my head, "No, tonight we stay
together." I said reluctantly.

"I know you miss driving her," he backed a little at my instant frowning
scowl and added quickly, "I meant he. It's a he!" Peter touched me, "We can
take it when we see Stryia tomorrow."

The idea of playing tourist was exciting, but with the added bonus of
driving my car made it so much more of a thrill, "I just miss it."

Peter nodded, "I know."



I realized I had been with Grandma to a club, but never Mom or Olek. Mario!
Could he dance? He had at the wedding, but this wasn't going to be ballroom
dancing. I'd seen him waltz with Mom, but I didn't believe there would be
music to dance the waltz at the Grotto. Could Mom? Would she?

Again, we parked, but I saw the vehicles were more arranged than last time
where people parked where they could under the trees. The Grotto might be
more popular, now that the military from several-countries was here. We
were greeted first by the rhythmic fast pulsing throb of bass. That would
always because just was so prominent.

Lights were coming from the Grotto's entrance we couldn't see yet. Beams
from searchlights moved, crossed and crisscrossed to bring everyone's
attention to the party. The sky was full of stars on the nearly cloudless
night, so the beams kept going.

Our vehicles stopped in an area we could be let out near the
entrance. People walked in groups of two or more into the Grotto. No one
wanted to dance alone! They could if they wanted to, but why? That wasn't
fun.

There were a few people at the entrance. Two were Makarovian and two were
military police. One from the United States and the other was the other two
had to be British I knew they were because of the uniforms and the "MP" on
their uniform and helmets.

Makarovian. Their expressions of shock on their faces were clear. There was
a status with these two vehicles, but not what you might think. They were
the only ones I knew of in Makarovia. They weren't owned by any military
group but were known to be used by the royal family. And one of the MPs
looked at the two Makarovians and said something to them and came to open
our door.

I did not have delusions about the family. We were royalty. We were famous
in the world now, but many Makarovians had seen and met us some time. Is
that what made acceptance simply hard to believe? It didn't affect the two
military members here that much. I didn't know the people they had met.

Peter and I got out and helped Grandma out.

We could hear a little more of the music as we gathered.

One of the Makarovians recovered enough to come and bow. "Your Majesty," he
turned to Peter and me, "Your Highness. We weren't informed you were
coming!"

Olek smiled at him, "That shouldn't be a problem. Is it?"

The man was quick, "Not at all," he looked at his Makarovian work partner
who also bowed. "Dan would have mentioned it if he knew." He said to
confirm what he had said. His partner gave the universally recognized
raised shoulders and shake of his head. He didn't know.

Peter chuckled, "We know Dan and Dimitri. They won't mind."

"Hi, guys!" A voice boomed near us. Rolph held the hand of a lovely long,
thick-haired blonde lady I'd seen in pictures. I wasn't just saying that
she was pretty. Thin and appeared to me that she exercised so was in good
shape. I guess she had to with two active little girls. Rolph wore a nice
purple shirt. Not lavender, grape or that sort of color, but purple. Black
slacks. She wore a short, almost fitted dress of the same purple. They
looked like a dance team. If they danced tonight, they were! He also had on
the glasses. I wish I'd remembered mine. It was dark out and there wasn't
too much light pollution. We would be fine. They both bowed as they
approached us. "Your Majesty." His eyes, if I could see the eyes, would
have sparkled as he bowed to Peter and me, "Your Highness." He motioned
toward her, "This is my wife Andreea." He said in Makarovian. They were
directed to speak English to include Mario.

I stuck my hand out to her. I should remember the willingness to shake
hands with some people didn't always travel over here, especially with
royalty. You don't touch unless you were touched by them and always back
away. She was a little surprised, but I had initiated it and she couldn't
refuse. "I've seen pictures of you shown me by Rolph. It's good to see you
in person."

"You don't need an introduction to them, do you?" Rolph asked Andreea as he
pointed at Peter and me. "You know their names."

Andreea shook her head, but smiled, "I do."

Peter shook her hand and waved at Olek, "You may recognize my brother Olek
and Lady Helga."

Andreea did a little curtsy and took both offered hands. "Of course, Your
Majesty," She turned to Helga, "My Lady."

"Wait on us!" A voice asked behind them. Mercea came trotting up followed
at a slower pace by Alec. Jeans and nice t-shirts on both said they weren't
on duty.

I smiled at Mercea's exuberance. It would be impossible for anyone to
convince me he had ever been unhappy in his entire life. "We'd never leave
you behind," I said hugging him. I backed a little and turned to Alec, "but
you..." I squinted an eye at him.

Alec paused as he approached a little worried for a second.

"Did you have to tell them everything?" I asked as I hugged him, too.

Alec knew what I was talking about and let out a short laugh, "Oh, that."

"Yes, that."

"I only told Mikell," he defended.

"I heard it from the man that sits on the throne," I muttered.

Alec chuckled and shrugged helplessly, "You didn't say not to!"

"That's why you're one of my favorite agents."



Protocols and introductions were done, and we went into the Grotto. That
huge monitor and screen that had the countdown to our wedding was still
there. A music video of performers I didn't know was on it. I knew movies
and music groups, but this one was Russian. It was interesting that when
groups hope to go global, they almost always choose English to sing in,
even if it's but no more than a phrase repeated over and over. I couldn't
follow all of them that closely. It was a lively tune by a group called
Little Big. The song's title was also in the corner. Skibidi. That was a
name, not a word I knew. In the video, there was a sort of bizarre dance
step they all four did. It was sort of an exaggerated strut with these arm
movements in and out over their chests as they stepped. It could be a name
for the dance. Makarovia's official languages were Makarovian and
English. With the large number of the military from the United States and
Great Britain, English was primarily used at the Grotto.

The Grotto was large and...cavernous? (Sorry, but it was a cavern.) Things
had been added to improve things such as sound. They added these large flat
things hung up high to keep the sound from bouncing around. The
reverberation could be bad in here.

Dan and Dimitri didn't mind that we came. They were flabbergasted that King
Olek and Queen Alla were here. It never occurred to either of them would
come.

Looking around, sure, many were Peter's and my age. As we looked, there
were a few older patrons Olek's age. Not that he was old. A few were even
near Grandma's age. Maybe. I knew Grandma had lived a long time, but I
never thought she was "old." She has dodged that bullet and I hoped she
would a little longer. There were tables around the flashing dance floor
and more lights flashed down, rotated sending colored and flashing lights
down on the dancing crowd like the sound you could see.

"This is a great dance club!" Helga said looking at the crowd.

"I've never been here before," Olek admitted as he also looked
around. "I've been told some stories..."

Peter smiled at him, "I hope you didn't expect to just sit and watch."

Olek frowned, "With..." he thought how to say it discretely, "our guest
that's coming...I didn't..."

Grandma smiled as he made it clear he didn't want to endanger Helga or the
arriving guest. They were the priority. "I think it would be alright if you
two danced. Helga should keep her schedule. It will also be a great
exercise." She chuckled, "I danced just fine up until twenty weeks carrying
Eric's mother." She shrugged, "I never gave up dance when I was pregnant. I
gave up some dance steps and moves only because I didn't have the reach I
needed." She looked Helga, "Are you in any discomfort?"

Helga smiled and her hand covered the area she carried the arriving guest
and shook her head gently, "Once the morning sickness has been dealt with,
there's no discomfort at all." She brightened and said, "In fact, I can't
remember feeling better than I do now. There is always a feeling of
pressure I felt every day to get things done. Deadlines to meet and
stressors I had grown accustomed to. I don't feel anything like that
now. I'm just so at peace."

Mom chuckled and looked at Peter, "I felt that when I carried him. Nothing
was wrong in this world."

"I had that, too," Grandma said to them quickly. "I was told by the doctor
it was the reaction to the changing hormones."

Mom was now nodded heartily agreement, "Who cares? I know what I felt."

Helga laughed, "Exactly. I know I am fortunate. I had a couple of people as
friends that had just the opposite. The conditions were problematic for
them from day one until the condition ended forty weeks later."

"My point is," Grandma said to Olek, "trust Helga. She will be the first to
know of a problem." Then she looked at Helga, "Don't push yourself. Your
body will tell you if dancing is a good idea or a bad one. Listen to it."

"Ideally," I said, "the female body has to make changes for the
guest. Those hormones make it happen positively. There is no perfect
pregnancy. Are there any drastic mood swings?"

Helga shook her head, "No."

There is a fine line between being cautious and being
overprotective. Olek's concern was not being overprotective. He had a
question and got an answer to that concern.

Peter looked at the many dancers. Many were not dancers, but they didn't
care. They were having a good time. "The most threatening thing here is
toes that are stepped on."

The song changed. It never really stopped so no one stopped. There was a
familiar thump-tap of drumsticks on the edge of a drum, "thump-tap,
thump-tap, thump-tap" as the song's pace was set.

Peter looked up and smiled, "I can think of no better song." He looked at
me. "Let's show them how it's done." He grabbed my hand and pulled me to
the dancefloor. He didn't have to pull hard. I was willing. Now, the deep
rhythmic accompaniment added to the song. "Our No Touchy, No Feely dance?"
He asked quickly.

"We have to come up with a name for," I said amused. "Is that what you want
to call it?"

"I said it," Peter said, "You know which dance. That's makes it a good
name."

We had done it several times. We perfected it to do a Jocks in Boston near
Northeastern University. I don't know of others who did it, but Peter and I
were perfecting it when we danced. We set ourselves ready to begin. We were
standing a foot apart and during the accompaniment, our right shoulders
jutted forward, his right and my right, slightly and became more pronounced
as the female lead sang, "The waves keep crashing on me for some reason,
but you love keeps on coming like a thunderbolt. Come here a little closer,
`cause I wanna see you close." And we both did that. (If you don't know the
song, look it up when you find out and reread this section.) The dance was
developed because there was no one leading. Those juts became more
pronounced. I jutted into his space as he jutted into mine. Remember me
telling you about dirty dancing for gays? We were perhaps an inch or less
apart now. Doing the exact same dance move, whether or not we looked like
we were leaning into each other's space, we weren't touching anything with
anything. You know that would be impossible chest to chest and legs to
legs. There was very little footwork as our feet didn't really move during
the dance. We did dance but tried not to touch. The song was created and
recorded to make you want to dance. That was the game of this
dance. Everybody could see us and wondered how we did it, that close and
not touch. Defying gravity! "You got me feeling hella good, so let's keep
on dancin'. You hold me like you should, so I'll keep on dancin'." That's
what we did. We kept on dancing. To have the dance come out right, we had
to know each other and what we'd do. I looked at Peter. He was gorgeous! I
am biased. The insecure man I met September before last was gone. I did see
that man when things became complicated and he was unsure about what to do,
but that man was pretty well gone for good. He'd turned his life around one
hundred and eighty degrees. He would never have willingly done this dance
in front of strangers or family. Hell, he wouldn't have done it at all!

As the accompaniment became bolder and prominent, our moves became bold and
more pronounced. Now he bent forward over me, forcing me to lower back as
he loomed above me and backed as I did the same to him. It like a version
of the movie the Matrix where Neo, played by Keanu Reeves contorted to
dodge bullets we saw coming at him in slow motion. Yes, just like
that...except, no one was shooting at us now, and Neo and the man who
wasn't a real human man, but a sentient computer program that called
himself Mr. Smith; they weren't exactly dancing. Other than that, it was
the exact same.

I don't want to chase that rabbit. Peter and I learned to
improvise. Halfway through the song, I could see that huge screen showed
everyone at the Grotto what Peter and I were doing. We were the featured
couple on the dancefloor. Then I saw no one was dancing, but Peter and
me. The shoulder juts and thrusts came again as the elbow on the other arm
jutted back. No touchy and no feely. When we leaned backward, that was the
only time we touched; to keep the other from losing our balance and falling
over.

The pace of the song was very fast and energetic. I was beginning to
sweat. So it was for Peter. As that song ended, that was when we did
touch. Arms wrapped around each other as we kissed. Applause thundered all
around us and cheers.

"I love," Peter panted, "you."

I nodded, "I know." I panted myself. "I love you."

"I know," Peter smiled.

The unseen club DJ's voice boomed from the speakers, "I don't need to tell
you who they are. They just came back from their honeymoon; I'd say they
definitely have learned to dance very well together! That was
ab...so...lutely amazing!! If I play it again in an hour or two when it
gets more crowded, will you do it again? Or choose another song. Everyone
needs to see that!"

We would and did. "A few more dances like that and our rich meals will be
taken care of," I joked.

Peter nodded, "I'm willing."

We got to our table to see happy and stunned faces. It was a provocative
dance without any sexual acts.

Grandma was smiling very big, "Who taught you that dance? I know I didn't."

I shook my head, "No." I agreed. "We are your grandsons; dancing just runs
in the family."

"Wow," Olek said raising his hand toward the dancefloor. "I
mean...where..."

"You learned to dance like that where?" Mom began with a cautious smile.

"We made it up!" Peter explained pointing at me. "We began at Jocks in
Boston and it sort of evolved."

I held up a hand, "Most dances have someone that leads, usually by a male
part of the dance. This one doesn't have that."

Peter laughed, "But I don't recommend doing it with just anyone."

I nudged Peter lightly, "No, there are moves we do, but you have to know
your partner. We know each other!"

"Wow," Olek said again. "I've never seen that before."

"That song?" Mercea asked a bit excited.

"Hella Good," I answered, and yes, I did it on purpose, "No Doubt."

Peter nodded and grinned. "Gwen."

Mercea nodded, "It was no doubt a damned good song! What was it? Gwen who?"

This was all in English because of Mario.

I laughed, "I was hoping someone would do this. I set you up. It's not just
a hell of a good song, the song is titled Hella Good. She felt Hella Good,
so she would keep on dancing. The group is called No Doubt."

If it was English personally translated to Makarovian, the understanding
wasn't going in. "Gwen Stefani? American group and singer?" I hinted.

That was the one thing removed from the clog that made the water flow in a
gush. The understanding was seen on everyone's face. There was again the
"oh's" from almost everyone at the table. They may not have heard her sing,
but they knew the name.

Olek nodded with conviction, "This is fun!"

Peter chuckled, "Which you need more often. Now that you know the Grotto's
here, why not once a week? Or at least once a month."

Yuri grinned, "No doubt." Was he agreeing or just playing with the phrase?

(Those who didn't know the song, now you do. Pull it up and read the dance
portion again! That is a royal command!)