*Michael's Point Of View*

Compromise, a valuable word in a marriage. Compromising leads partners on a much safer road of happiness in their marriage. With compromise, there can be a sense of promised peace. Without compromise, the wreak of havoc will cause nothing but dismay.

I'm trying to compromise with Marilyn. I really am. I love her enough to try to ignore her seemingly unappreciative approach to this trip. Seemingly, my efforts aren't working.

Marilyn is understandably hormonal. She's also very worried about leaving the kids for a week. I understand these set backs completely, but I don't understand why she just won't at least try to enjoy this trip. But, opposed from all of the off sets that has started, I have still managed to devise a plan that will hopefullty revive both of our spirits.

My intial plan was to go sight seeiing, but everyone does when vactioning. Instead, I want to take Marilyn to a nice massaging class. I've heard of Europe's prestigest spa's that offer classes. I don't know how she will be able to deal with it, being that she is hormonal, but I think it's worth a try.

This morning, day two of our trip in Europe, I decided to wake up extra early. I want to surprise Marilyn with a nice breakfast. I guess it's safe to say, I want this trip to kind of recap our honeymoon. I just want to remind her, how special that week in Miami was for us, for me, for her. Yeah, I'm corny, I know.

With my objective in mind, I awoke at merely five this morning, dragging myself into the bathroom for a shower. By fiv-thirty, I am cleaned and neatly dressed in my infamous midnight slacks and white V-neck. Next chore, calling Bill and giving him his tasks for the children.

I know it was quite late for him there, but I knew he would still answer. I may be on vacation, but I am never off from my fatherly duties.

After clearing things with Bill, I rush downstairs to prepare Marilyn's and I breakfast. I smile to myself as I descend the stairs. I absolutely love this hotel suite. I was so agitated when we first arrived, that I didn't even take in the beauty of this suite.

It is elaborate, exsquisite, and homely. From it's simple European approach to pastel colors, to it's homely decorum of plush pillows and lovely straw lawn chairs. The suite is even more mesmorizing because of our view of the beach behind our kitchen.

How could anyone not enjoy this?

Resuming my mission, I slide into the kitchen. Taking a little stride towards the refridgorator, I search for any sign of feasable produce. I'm not the best cook, but I can pretty much make use of anything. Today, I'm given the use of banana's, whole grain-wheat bread, oatmeal, sweetened alomd milk, and a few other berries. Sighing heavily, I shake my head and prepare to work with this.

Slipping my phone from my pocket, I quickly research a recipe that included these few items. Fruit smoothie, honey on banana toasted wheat bread, and oatmeal (using the almond milk as a part of the peparation) it seemed promising.

Not even ten minutes into my cookig episode did my cellphone interupt me for other business. I ignore the first two rings as I continued shopping the fruit. I previously made sure that my business would not interrupt this vacation. I don't need stress and neither dfoes Marilyn. But, of course, people in my industry don't understand that what so ever.

Upon the fourth ring, I groan in agitation before answering.

*"Hello?"

"Hello, Mister Jackson?"

"Yes, this is him. May I ask who it is that I'm speaking to?"

"Mister Ford. Jeremy Ford, the adoption attorney"

"Ahh... Yes. I'm sorry Mister Ford. How are you?"

"It's fine, I know this isn't the best time, but I wanted to know if I can meet with you when you return from Europe?"

"Yes, of course! Wait, how do you know I'm in Europe?"

"Ha-ha, well cameras follow you whereever you go mister Jackson. Trust me though, no one knows about our business venture. But, again, I do apologize for the interuption. Congradulations on your baby and have a nice one. I look forward to our meeting"

"Yeah... thank you. Me too"*

Ending the call, I face palm myself. They know I'm in Europe. They know Marilyn and I are in Europe, and they know that she is pregnant. I don't even understand how these tabloids find out this information. I'm praying that this doesn't hamper Marilyn's and I vacation. I wouldn't know how to handle it.

Calming down from my moment, I resume my breakfast mission.I finish in the nick of time, nearly beating the sun as it rose beautifully before me. Smiling happily at my efforts, I load the cuisine onto a serving tray and carefully exit the kitchen. With each ascending step, my smile widens. I love surprising Marilyn. She definetly deserves it.

"Babygirl... Papa brought you-" I pause, scanning the room for the lovely.

I quickly set the tray down on the bed and travel towards the bathroom where I presume she is. Upon enetring the bathroom, the fog of a warm shower surrounds me and the scent of lightly heated vanilla invades my nostrils.

My plastered smile transforms ito a smirk as an idea slyly came to me. Silently, I remove my clothing and sreach through the fog. Findong the door handle, I carefully open it and slide into the waterfall. Her silohuette is all that is seen.

I watch her quiently. There's something about a pregnant woman. They are absolutely gorgeous and definetly makes me appreciate life. Marilyn has this glow, this illuminous glow when she's pregnant. So beautiful.

"Are you going to just stand there and watch, or are you going to bathe?" Her voice lulls.

Her silouhuette disappears, revealing the woman behind the shadow. Her body drenched with the showers cries. Her hair curling beneath the showers tears. Her curves, slowly but surely growing, beautifully. I can't believe I actually denied this woman on her birthday.

Silly Michael.

"How about I bathe you?" I suggest, stepping closer.

"Please.." She purrs, closing any potential space between us.

Instead of a usual sponge, I bathe her with slow kisses, Her jawline, her earlobe, the nape of her neck, all victim to my kisses. Her labored breathing, sending chills down my spine. Whether it's the water evaporating from the shower head, or the mere fact that Marilyn and I are this close, I'm warming inside.

"I'm so sorry papa..." She whispers, halting my kisses.

I nod, knowing exactly what her apology is directed towards. I accept it fully, but I don't want her apologizing for being hormonal. Yes, it was a bit agitating, but she's pregnant, she can't help it. But. all I want from her a heavy breaths and whining moans.

"Shh babygirl... don't worry. All forgiven" I whisper, tilting her chin upwards.

"Mmm..." She sighs as I back her into the tile.

Grazing my teeth against her slippery tongue, I whisper every dirty thought I've witheld since this vacation began. I'm a man of action as well as words, so when she begs for these wishes to be fulfilled, I gladly demonstrate.

Two chocolate arms cling to the shower rod as I support her waist with my palms. Thrust after thrust, her cries for mercy heighten in pitch. Oh how I love the sound of my name between those cries. Her juices have made this position even more enjoyable as she drizzles around me. I don't think we've ever done this before, but it's safe to say we both enjoy it.

"I-I can't take it papa... you're too much" She whimpers, rolling her head backwards.

"Tell me again babygirl..." I groan, removing her from the shower rod.

Slowly turning to me, she pulls me closer to her by my torso, catching my lips in the mist. Still the showerhead drenches us, making this kiss even more pleasurable. I don't even care that she hasn't answered.

"Papa.. You're too much. You, you drive me insane. Is this what you want to hear?" She purrs, breaking our kiss.

I smirk, taking her firm butt in my palms.

"Tell daddy more..." I request, nibbling at her ear.

Slowly, her arms link around my neck. She's teasing me with her eyes. I don't even believe there will be any breakfast eating today. She's all the meal I need, I'm sure the feeling is mutual for her as well.

"When you're inside... I'm on this natural high. When I taste you... oh god..." She moans, releasing her arms from my neck.

She slowly lowers herself. I watch her, debating on whether or not to stop her. I know I should be enjoying her next move, but I wouldn't be able to. I can't send a pregnant woman on her knee's. I rather have a taste of her anyways.

"No babygirl... Daddy whats to taste you..." I growl, slowly lifting her up.

"Put your leg right there babygirl..." I instruct, pointing to the edge of the tub.

She obeys, watching me as I lower myself beneath her. Without warning, I take her between my lips. My tongue traveling between her rifts as she tries to contain her moans. I become more violent when she bites down on her lips. I want to hear her cry for me. There's no reason to hide it.

"No babygirl... let me hear you whine for me..." I groan, sneaking two fingers inside.

"Oh god... mmm" She whimpers, still forcefully muting herself.

"Let me hear mama. Let daddy hear you babygirl..."

With one last pump, I insert my tongue for a finally stride in hearing her beautiful song. Not even two minutes into my effort is she already begging for mercy. Her walls readily tighten themselves around my tongue as I slither profusely around her walls. I want her to rain on me.

"Shit... Oh god... Michael, baby please..." She whimpers, trying to escape me.

Holding her hips stifly, I continue until her final cry rings throughout the bathroom. I hope the other occuoants can hear her. Hear how I make my wife feel. The thing's that many married men wish they could claim as their skill. This is what I proudly give to my wife. She will never be able to deny it.

She shreiks finally releasing herslef, only hiccuping as I ever so slowly clear her juices.

"Damn girl... you taste womderful" I tease, finally returning to my orignal standing position.

Between heavy breaths, she nods. I stifle a laugh as she struggles to remain standing. Wobbly legs tell me I have definitely done my job, and well.

"You alright there babygirl?" I chuckle, shutting off the shower head.

"I can't feel my legs... damn. What did you do to me?" She asks, carefully climbing out.

Aiding her, I carry her into the bedroom and gently lay her down onto the comforter. I flash her a gentle smile, once she's fully comfortable. I hope I didn't cause any real damage, she looks pained.

"Babygirl... Are you okay?" I whisper, passing her a nearby hotel robe.

Wincing with her eyes shut, she nods and slowly slides the robe onto her body. When she's done, she glances at me and shakes her head, with a discreet smirk.

"You are one crazy man..." She suddenly giggles.

Titling my head in confusion, I grab a robe for myself and join her.

"Why am I crazy? You're the horny one... Twenty-four-seven..." I protest, leaning back against the headboard.

Without another word, she scoots over to me and nestles her head into the nape of my neck, while her arms lifelessly lay across my chest. I chuckle at her state, she's exhausted, too exhausted to argue my statement. For a few moments we lay in silence, that is until Marilyn speaks up again.

"I love you. I really do. Thank you... I needed that. My aphrodisiac..." She yawns, pecking my jawline tenderly before fully closing her eyes.

"I love you too babygirl..." I whisper, pecking her forehead.

With a spread across my lips, i close my eyes and gently squeeze her. I guess those massages will have to wait and breakfast too. Who says a little shower time doesn't do the body any good? I would have to rebuttal that fool.

To Be Continued...