Noisy Night

A subversive Christmas short romance by Yvette Franklin

I fucked God. And then I was screwed. You know Henry Darden, the guy with most incredible voice in the whole world, the one who plays God in all those different movies? Yeah, that guy. And it was totally my fault. We were at a fabulous Cinco de Mayo party given by that cute Latino actor from the last James Bond movie. Never seen so much tequila. I was wearing the dress that never fails, a little black thing that makes my boobs look DD and my waist look like Barbie’s. And my red Jimmy Angelo’s Fuck Me Pumps. And no panties. And of course I am Manda Spellman, the second coming of Marilyn Monroe, the Pamela Anderson with real tits. He was drunk and flirtatious. I was drunk and horny as hell. He put a hand on my ass and I decided I wanted him so bad that I dragged him out behind the pool house. He objected that he was married but I just ran my hand down his very nice if a little elderly body. He temporarily changed his mind after copping a feel of my luscious breasts and we allowed nature to take its course.

Best cheap and dirty quickie I ever had. I just unzipped his pants, straddled that long, strong cock of his and wham. He came. Then I came so hard that I almost fell off my shoes. The sensation started at my groin and spread in fast warm waves through every fiber of my body. It was like lightning hit. The perfect Erica Jong zipless fuck.

Then somehow I found myself eight and a half months pregnant. I did an excruciatingly bad sequel to a sequel, put the money in the bank, and put my life as Manda Spellman on hiatus. I went back to being Maizy Smithers and ducked out of the Hollywood scene into a quiet little house in West LA. I enjoyed digging up my little garden, watching the guy down the street walk his pig, and going to weird foreign flicks that Manda would never be associated with. While I was famous enough to be photographed when playing arm candy to a producer at the Golden Globes, nobody seemed to miss the second coming of Marilyn when I was gone. I just let my hair go back to mousy brown so I wouldn’t poison my poor kid with hair dye chemicals, wore my glasses all the time and enjoyed a life of comfortable anonymity.

I did kinda wish I had some family around. I didn’t tell Henry I was pregnant. He loved his wife and I was not going to wreck his marriage for a moment that was totally my responsibility. But neither could I go back to Arkansas. I was not going to have my beautiful chocolate baby be called all sorts of names by my redneck relatives. So there I was in my little hide away, big as a house myself, feeling sorry for myself that I was going to be alone for Christmas tomorrow, eating popcorn and watching reruns of every Christmas movie ever made, wondering what the hell I was gonna do.

Contractions started at about 5:30pm, just as KNBC Local News was getting into a piece about Paris Hilton. My BFF Deb was supposed to be my birth coach but she was skiing in Vale with her ex-boyfriend. The baby wasn’t due till after New Year’s so I told her to go. The contractions started coming faster and harder. I was trying to get up off the couch to get to my cell phone to call 911 when there came a knock on the door. I croaked, “Come in!” and in came José, my gardener.

“Thank God!” I said hoarsely, even though the actual deity was probably not on speaking terms with me. “José, I’m having my baby.” A contraction hit and I groaned. He immediately pulled me up off the couch and started walking me to the door, asking questions, the right questions.

“How long apart are your contractions? Has your water broken? Do you have a regular doctor? What hospital are you supposed to go to? Do you have a night bag ready?”

I answered best as I could as he walked me to his beaten up old F-250 pickup truck and helped me up into the cab. The step up was really high but José was strong. He just picked me up, deposited me gently on the seat, and ran back into the house for my phone and a bag of things for the hospital. He then drove like hell to the West LA Infirmary. We timed the contractions at about eight minutes apart.

Just as we turned into the parking lot of the Infirmary, we were met by blaring sirens, blinking lights, six fire trucks including two lime green ones, a row of police cars, a helicopter overhead, and swarms of cops. Most of the cops seemed to be on traffic duty, waving people away.

José rolled down his window. “My…,” he hesitated for a second, obviously not sure what to call me. He went for the simplest explanation, “My girlfriend is having contractions. She’s about to give birth any minute.” Somewhere in my pain-fogged brain, this statement amused me.

“Can’t come in here, we’ve got a situation,” said the cop, stating the utterly obvious. “Bomb threat was called in 15 minutes ago. Whole hospital is on lock down. Take her over to St. Francis’s on Sepulveda.”

José nodded, and backed slowly away from the scene of chaos and supposed crime. We headed for the 405 but the line on was two blocks long and not moving. When he clicked on the radio, the traffic girl said there was a 15-car crash on the freeway just by the Skirball Center. Of course that meant all of Sepulveda was blocked too. José managed to get on to Sepulveda but then we just sat there. It was almost like an earthquake had hit. People began rolling down their windows and chatting with each other. José had his iphone out and was muttering about the map program.

A really big contraction hit and I began to groan. I must have sounded pathetic because José pulled into a mini mall and then exited on to some side street. I felt like I had to poop a brick the size of a basketball. The weight that I’d been carrying for months needed to come out. All these thoughts just came out as “Eeegggghhhheeehhhh.” Some how José understood this primal language and pulled into a cul de sac.

“It’s okay mamacita, we’ll call 911, and we’ll just wait here for the ambulance.” He called, talked to the operator for a minute, and then said, “Okay, I’ll call you back if I need instructions.” Wasn’t sure what he was talking about until he turned to me and asked, “Do you think you will be more comfortable here in the cab or would you rather be outside?”

A huge hot flash hit me just as he was asking the question so I croaked, “Outside.” José got out, did something in the back of the truck, and then came round to help me out. He very gently helped me down the step and then assisted me to the back of his truck. He then picked me up and laid me down in the nest he had made of tarps, garbage bags, bags of leaves and what was probably his coat. It left me sitting somewhere between horizontal and vertical with my feet just at the edge of the truck.

The night was cool and the bed of the truck was cold even through José’s garbage bags. My teeth started chattering.

“You sure you’d rather be outside?” he asked.

I nodded firmly. I’d seen a Youtube video of a woman giving birth in a car. Not me. I wanted the dignity of at least a couple of garbage bags. José found my bathrobe and draped it over my huge stomach and goose bumped arms. That felt better but the warmest thing was his arms. “Hold me,” I said.

Miraculously, he did. He climbed up into the truckbed and wrapped his arms around me. His arms felt like heaven, warm and well-muscled. I snuggled in to him and somehow we ended up with me between his legs, my back against him. I even imagined that I could feel his cock burrowing into ass. I don’t know why that was comforting, but it was. Somehow I just relaxed. The contractions were still coming but the warmth of his body gave me something else to think about so they didn’t seem so bad. Goddammit, I’m a horny wench. Thinking about sex seems to be my default setting.

After a while, even feeling the breadth of his chest and his tight abs behind me wasn’t enough to block out the pain. “Talk to me,” I told him.

I could feel his laugh in response. It rippled through me. I think my baby liked it as it seemed to kick happily in response.

“What should I talk about?” he asked. He had a deep sexy voice with just the slightest touch of a Mexican accent.

“Why are you even here on Christmas Eve?” I asked. “Don’t you have family?”

I felt him sigh. “I’m from Arizona. I came up here to go to UCLA but my family are stuck down there with the crazies. Half of ‘em have gone back to Mexico and the other half are keeping their heads down. They told me to stay here for the holidays.”

A bad thought hit me. “You married?” I didn’t need another married guy. Though of course wasn’t sure why I cared.

He laughed again. “Never found a woman who could put up with my smart ass ways. My parents and my two Mexican brother-in-laws have gone back to Sonora. My sisters and their kids are stuck in Naco, which is a pit. The Mexican side is nothing but drug smugglers and coyotes, the American side is nothing but border patrols. We were all born here and have papers but even that doesn’t help sometimes.”

All that seeped into my brain was that he was from Arizona and he wasn’t married. This made me happy until another contraction hit. A hard one. “Why did you come to UCLA?” I asked to distract myself.

“I came to do molecular biology and plant genetics. I should’ve finished a couple of years ago but I started going part time so I could do my gardening business. I need to make money to get my sisters up here and get everybody green cards.”

“I was a double major in bioanthropology and film at UCLA,” I responded. “I usually don’t talk about the bioanth part, ruins the bimbo image.”

Another contraction hit and had me gripping José for dear life. Modern human’s hips are supposed to have evolved for modern babies but I wasn’t sure whether this was gonna work in my case. This baby felt huge and it felt like it was coming now.

I heard a thin high wail of a siren in the distance. “Hang on, mamacita,” said José in a deep comforting rumble. “That’s gotta be your ride.”

The pain was unbearable. My back was killing me and I felt incredibly nauseous. I screamed loud and hard and then began to throw up. After I finished puking my guts out, I lost my warm backrest. José moved out from behind me, gave me a sip from a water bottle, and started to clean up with a rag.

“Coming,” I managed to gasp.

“I got you baby,” said José, “Do what you need to do.”

I grabbed onto to his rock hard upper arm and tried to think of the cheerful earth mother voice of Terri, my Lamaze instructor. “Conscious breathing gives you control,” she would tell us again and again as we practiced our deep in and outs until we were dizzy. I desperately tried to find some rhythm to be able to cope with the pain. Finally I did. In and out. Ride the waves of the contractions. Push when I felt like it. I felt like I was splitting open.

I was. “I can see a head!” yelled José. The baby tore its way down my birth canal, each inch splitting me farther and farther apart.

“Doing great, that’s the way mamacita, come on baby, you’re beautiful,” José kept telling me over and over again. His words worked. Some how my baby managed to squeeze its way down.

“That’s it, baby,” crooned José, “almost there. Great job.”

And then with once last huge push, I released my beautiful baby.

“Ay mami,” he cried, “it’s a boy!”

Another wave of pain hit me, felt like my insides were falling out. Just as I heard my baby’s cry mix with the sound of a nearby siren, I passed out.

* * *

Bright sun light woke me. The world was a warm red with my eyes closed. Then a bright clean hospital room greeted me when I opened my eyes. José was standing there cradling a beautiful coffee with cream baby. They looked like they belonged together. José was dark with amber skin and black black eyes that were somehow smiling down at the baby, my son.

“Your beautiful mami is awake,” he said in his gorgeous voice, and then carefully placed the child on my chest. He was so small with perfect little hands and wet pink lips that began moving when he was put against my breast.

“He’s hungry,” said José. My breasts ached at the feel of my baby so I hiked up my hospital gown and put him to my breast. I felt intense pleasure as he began to suck. After my right breast felt better, I moved him to the left breast and that too began to stop throbbing.

I realized after I’d done this that José was standing there with a full view of my milk filled breasts and the horrible tubes they had poked in my arms. I should probably have felt some shame but I didn’t. His gaze warmed me. I grabbed his hand and held it hard. I wanted to say so many things to him but exhaustion pushed me back into unconsciousness.

I woke again to the sound of a nurse’s voice. It was dusk and the hospital sounded quiet. “Good evening. Mrs. Martinez, nice to see you awake,” said the chipper nurse as she removed a couple of tubes from my arm. “You lost a lot of blood when your baby is born, but you are doing fine now. The doctor will decide if you can go home tomorrow morning.” She bustled a little more. “Have you decided on your son’s name yet?” I shook my head. “Let me know when you do,” she said, “We need to file an official birth certificate.” I nodded as she bounced out.

I looked at José. “Mrs. Martinez?” I croaked. I didn’t have enough energy to be mad.

“I never said we were married,” said José. Then he added sheepishly. “I thought you needed some family so I told them again that I was your boyfriend.”

I was about to say something snarky and snappy back to him when I was distracted by the blinking of lights. I hadn’t missed Christmas after all, it had come to my room. I saw four very large poincettas and one tiny evergreen with itsy-bitsy Christmas bulbs in a pot. All around the room were strung Christmas lights of every color blinking in random sequences. Spanish Christmas songs were playing softly in the background. I didn’t have my glasses on and the round circles of light all blended together and some how seemed to blink in time to Feliz Navidad. José had managed to make this stark hospital room into a home. It was all so beautiful that I almost burst into tears.

“You brought Christmas,” I managed to say.

José nodded with a smile. “It was all on sale cheap, I couldn’t resist.”

“It’s lovely,” I croaked and reached out to hold his hand. He stood awkwardly at the side of the bed and I realized I wanted to feel his warmth again. “There’s enough room up here for both of us,” I whispered and the scootched over as much as I could, glad I was free of the tubes. He glanced at the door and went to close it before returning to my bed. Then he took off his shoes and gingerly climbed into the bed with me. His warmth spread throughout my body. Only one thing was missing.

“Where’s the baby?” I asked.

“He’s in the nursery sleeping. I just checked on him,” José replied. Then he paused. “I need to tell you something….” He stopped again. The wait nearly killed me. I am not a patient woman. Finally he came through with a rush of words. “I helped to fill out the baby’s birth certificate with the info in your wallet. When they asked me who the father of the baby was, I told them I was.” He paused again. “I didn’t want you and the baby to be by yourselves.”

My first instinct was to say, “I don’t need anyone!” but given that I was lying in this man’s arms and I wanted him to stay more than anything in the world, I stopped myself. Instead I asked, “Do you want kids?”

“Absolutely,” he said. “You can take me outta Naco, but family is still my center.”

“Do you want to be the father of this baby?”

“Yes,” he whispered. Then he kissed me softly. “And I want to love his beautiful mami.”

I lost it then. Tears began to streak down my face. I had tried so hard through out my pregnancy to go it alone, to not need some one else to make a family for my baby. I would have made it too, but maybe, just maybe I wouldn’t have to. But I too am a suspicious smartass.

“Do you love me just for my baby?” I asked.

He laughed. “No, not for anything as logical as that.”

“Because I am the second coming of Marilyn Monroe?”

He laughed even harder. “I admit that I never let anyone else work your yard because you are were so incredibly hot in Barbarella 2 that I thought they couldn’t handle it.” He paused for a second. “But that is not why I love you. “ He paused again. I felt like hitting him for being so slow to talk but I felt too cozy to lift my arm. Finally he continued in a really quiet voice. “I fell in love with you when that beautiful blue agapanthus bloomed in the middle at that nice bed of white agapanthus you have in the side yard and you told me not to cut it. ‘I love sports’ you said.”

I laughed. “That’s the biologist in you who must have liked that. I always felt like a sport, a creature that doesn’t look like its parents. I’m so weird I haven’t even told my own mom I’m pregnant.”

José kissed my cheek. “That’s why I fell in love with you when you said that,” he whispered. “I’m a sport too. If I talked Mendelian genetics to my family, their eyes would roll in their head from boredom.”

Somehow, things fell into place. I started to kiss him. He was a really good kisser. He first nibbled my lips and then we started deep kissing. His tongue fit my mouth perfectly and he built a rhythm that send warm waves of love throughout my body. I snuggled against him and found that his cock was hard, that it wasn’t just my fevered imagination that he desired me in the most direct way. I ached for him but my insides were too raw for him so I settled for freeing him from his jeans and stroking him. His cock was like his whole body, broad and hard. I’m long and lean with the exception of my exceptional boobs (which he was paying delicious attention to with his hands). He is actually an inch or two shorter than me. But that seemed to make no difference in bed. We fit together so well. His mouth moved easily from my mouth down my body. Every lap of his tongue sent delicious shivers through my body. When he suckled my breast, I thought I’d gone to heaven.

He whispered, “Mi amor,” and moved his hand to my nub and started rubbing slowly and carefully. “Is that okay?” he asked softly.

I grunted in ecstasy in reply. His slow rhythm was driving me insane. I timed my hand exploring his cock to the rhythm that he was setting with his hand. My hand tingling from feeling the blood move in ever millimeter of his cough. He grunted. “I’m about to come, my love.”

“Yes,” I whispered in return, pausing to pull up my hospital gown so I could feel him against my thigh. He groaned with pleasure and I could feel him tingle in my hand. He sucked my breast, stroked my slippery nub and exploded, bringing me along with him. Every fiber of my body shuddered with release. Each time the wave seemed to pass, he began stroking again, sending more warmth, more release throughout me. He stopped only when I grabbed his hand out of my crotch.

He laughed and my laughter followed his. He climbed off the bed for a second and returned with a towel to clean me off. Even his gentle strokes threatened to send me spinning off into ecstasy again.

“Anything else I can do for you?” he asked in his rumbling voice after he once more held me in his arms.

I shook my head no and laughed the laugh of a well-loved woman. “Now that is how you become a daddy.” That inspired a thought. “What is your father’s name?”

He grinned, “Haysoos.”

“Haysoos?” I asked. “Jesus? Jesus!”

He laughed. “Bit much for the son of José and Mary Elizabeth, huh?” Nobody ever called me Mary Elizabeth. He must have gotten that from my driver’s liscense. It sounded nice in his voice. I forced myself off from this interesting track back to the business at hand.

“I could deal with Joshua.” I said. “How does Joshua Jesus Martinez sound?” “Joshua Jesus Martinez-Smithers to be exact,” he answered with another laugh.

All I could think to say was “Mmmmmm,” as I fell asleep in his arms. I woke, a bit stiff, a couple of hours later. When he saw I was awake, he kissed me gently.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said. “Who is the biological father of our child?”

“Henry Darden,” I answered.

“God? You fucked God??”

I grinned, “Pulled him behind the pool house and slid right down on him all while wearing my Jimmy Angelo Fuck Me Pumps.” I sobered slightly. “I didn’t tell him I was pregnant. He’s a horny bastard but he’s fond of his wife. Didn’t want to upset his marriage.”

José started laughing, every inch of him seemed to shake with mirth. “You know, mi amor, our Joshua is going to be some incredible kid.”

Noisy Night is part of the Elm Books collection Christmas is for Bad Girls, available at http://www.elm-books.com/ProductDetails.asp?ProductCode=R01-ChristmasBadGirls