It was almost too good to be true. So much so in fact that Kit and the children still tiptoed around their guest as if she might at any moment explode into a literal flaming rage, burning the house to the ground and whirling like a dervish through town, leaving a trail of destruction in her wake. Not that the guest seemed to notice. She simply lived. Went about each day as airy as an angel. She seemed to ignore their hesitant glances and concerned stares.

She'd ceretainly made herself at home. She adopted the kitchen as her own - not that Kit minded. He could cook - just not well. And Jude was as confident in the kitchen as if she was born in it. In fact, he and the children discovered a great delight: whatever they put in the refrigerator, she cooked! Chicken, pork, beef - it didn't matter. She created something brilliant with it. If there was flour in the cabinets and sugar and butter and eggs - there was cake! It was pure genius.

Kit could tell he was gaining weight from the increased deliciousness in the house because his pants - previously taken up by Alma - had to be let out by Jude...who also sewed. She mended clothes that had languished torn, too tight, too loose, frayed, or unraveling for far too long. The machine whirred comfortingly most afternoons while Kit lounged on the couch and the kids played. Soon, they had super hero capes, contentedly 'flying' around the backyard and fighting the forces of evil.

So they adapted. The guest was clearly improved. She smiled all the time, with teeth when Kit made some joke or other. But typically she wore a sort of secret smile. Kit thought it was kind of...sexy.

Hell. Jude was...sexy. He rubbed at his face, watching her over the couch back one evening as she hummed at the sink. She swayed with the little stereo. She'd filled out - like him - her own cooking creating hips and curves. And the hair was a nice touch; inches upon inches of golden ringlets and waves, sometimes piled loosely, sometimes spilling over shoulders, sometimes pony tailed high on her head... But always beautiful. Suddenly she laughed. She had a deep, rich laugh.

"What is it?" Kit's brows rose.

"Yar children." She nodded out the kitchen window. "Looks like they found a mud hole somewhere."

"Oh no."

"Go hose 'em off, Kit!" She pointed. "They can't track all that filth inta this clean house!"

He chuckled as he hosed off the kids. Jude watched from the porch steps, secret smile in place and head shaking. Thomas' and Julia's teeth chattered in their grins. "Come on, ya little dirt bags," Jude winked. "It's showers far you two."

And after showers, it was bedtime. New traditions had taken hold quickly. Jude was in charge of story time. Kit enjoyed her reading with the children, all sprawled across the two twin beds, listening to Kipling's Just So Stories. Jude had a way with accents, bringing life to each character. She was animated and...gorgeous, lit warmly by the scarf-draped lamps. The children stared at her rapt by the tales she spun. Kit stared at her rapt by the spun silk spilling over her tan skin. His eyes drooped with Thomas'. Julia yawned. And Kit dragged himself to action.

"Alright." He announced. "Bed."

The tuckered two grumbled good naturedly, but scrambled beneath their quilts just the same. Their father gave good-night hugs, kissing each cheek or forehead softly. But Jude attacked with vengeance, kissing, nuzzling, and growling playfully into their bellies, backs or whatever body parts their squealing squirms allowed her to reach. Kit watched from their doorway, laughing.

And then, their own tradition. With the house quiet, the adults lounged on the front porch. Kit typically nursed a beer. Sometimes Jude joined him, but tonight she sipped a coffee. He noticed. "You tired?"

"A little." She shrugged. Stretched her legs across the porch swing seat. He didn't look at them. She leaned on her elbow, completely relaxed, staring at him with her secret smile in place. "You?"

"Nah." He shook his head, back to a porch column. "I'm fine." He looked at his beer. "Hey, Jude."

"Hmmm?"

"I'm thinking of going back to work."

"You should."

"I think you'll be fine with the kids."

She nodded, thinking. "I feel better."

"I can tell." He chuckled. "I just want to make sure you'll be comfortable with them all day. Ya know. When they're not in school."

"I love those babies, Kit."

"Then it's perfect." He smirked at her. Crickets serenaded. She was like a carved statue in the moonlight - legs defined and muscular, jawline strong and sharp, hair glinting silver on gold. "I'm glad yer better, Jude."

She studied him for a moment, not speaking. The secret smile was missing for the first time in days. "Kit."

"What?"

"I'm sorry."

"Fer what, Jude?" He leaned forward on the step, picking at the label on his beer bottle.

Her eyes glistened. He could see the shimmer in them. "I remembah," she murmured. "Everything."

He blinked. "Everything?"

"No one should have had ta do the things you did far me. Not far a stranger. Not far...far someone who did to you what I did to you." A shimmer slid down her cheek. "I don't understand ya."

Kit swallowed thickly. Everything, he thought, dread tightening his throat. "What do you mean you don't understand?"

"Why'd ya bring me here?"

Kit shrugged. He wasn't certain he could put it in words. "I needed ta let go. Of Briarcliff. Of all that shit. And you were the last connection to it." She nodded, processing. "And...Jude. Ya woulda died in there. Sick and miserable and...outta yer fuckin' mind. And I don't think I coulda watched that happen."

She cried as secretly as she smiled. No sobs. No sniffles. Just crisp, sleek tears sliding over those crafted cheekbones. She wiped at her face. Her coffee cup dangled empty from her fingers. "That's fair."

"Jude?"

"Hm?"

"Will you - will you tell me what happened? With the kids the othah day? When they took you to the woods?"

The secret smile returned, swift and automatic. Her lovely lips worked. "Do you..." She had to sit up for this. "Do you believe in angels?"

Kit winced. How to tell an ex-nun you're not particularly religious? "Er. No. I don't." He raised a steadying hand. "But that's not ta say they're not real! I've just nevah -"

Jude shook her head, stopping him. "Kit. I'm not gonna send ya ta confessional. I'm not Sistah Jude anymore."

He let his gaze skate down her body. "That's fer sure." She blushed brightly enough for him to see in the dim. He cleared his throat. Changed the subject. "So you uh...you saw an angel?"

She tisked, flopping back into the swing. It creaked as she set it in motion. "I know you won't believe me."

"You didn't believe me once."

She stared at him. Her eyes narrowed. "That's true."

"Doesn't mean it didn't happen."

"Also true." She seemed satisfied. The secret smile creeped back.

"So...you saw some angels?"

She thought. Ran a hand through her long locks, pushing it away from her face. "Yeah. Yeah, I saw some angels."

"I believe you." And he did.

He went back to work the next day. And just in time. Funds were running low and the kids needed new shoes. Plus, it was good to get his hands dirty again. Good to have the simple pleasure of fixing cars. He'd always been keen on engines, and he was a quick study. He fell quickly into the role of mechanic. Not to mention, it was great to come home to Jude and the kids. It felt like...a family again.

And Jude was great. Just perfect. Dinner ready. Kids cleaned. Homework done (if there was any). Laundry put away. She even made him leave his greasy coveralls on the porch. Fussed at him if he forgot to take his shoes off. Had a cold beer waiting for him. And after the kids went to bed, they talked. About everything. About nothing. The secret smile encouraged him to open up. He told her about Alma. He explained Grace.

And she told him about Briarcliff. And Mary Eunice. And Arthur Arden. And Oliver Thredson. And Timothy Howard.

And Kit started to understand some of the things behind the secret smile. The secrets of freedom, of release, of justice, of pain and false hope. The secret of real hope. Of love unconditional. She taught him a lot. And the kids, too. How to sew, how to dance, how to live for the moment. Her confidence grew exponentially, turning her more into a woman and less into Sister Jude. She was a nurturer. A confidante. A mother figure for his kids and for him...

Well. Sometimes she felt for all the world like the perfect wife. With just a few things missing. Or really just one thing missing.

Although he tried not to focus on missing that. It was hard; he was human. And she smelled like warm sunlight and moved so certainly and gracefully and her hips swayed and her breasts brushed his chest when they danced and her hands patted his knee sometimes and she licked her lips sometimes and her eyes creased like a contented kitten's and that secret smile...

He tried not to focus on missing that.

"Where the kids?" He stomped his shoes on the rough mat at the door. The sunset behind him lit pinkish highlights in her hair.

"At the movies with the Whaleys." Jude handed him a cold beer. He hung his coveralls on the hook she'd installed. "They're staying the night."

"Oh." He rolled his head on a tense neck. "Well. They'll have a good time."

"Course they will." She pulled covered dishes from the oven. "Yar late today. Everything okay?"

"Two damn transmissions and a broken engine block." He served up roast beef and little potatoes. Ate a carrot slice right out of the pan. She leaned against the sink, watching him. No doubt she'd already eaten. "Had to leave one of those transmissions for Monday. Boyd's got to head into Boston fer a part."

Jude chuckled. "I doubt Boyd will mind the weekend getaway. Want anothah beer?"

"You gonna have one?"

"Sure." She popped two more cold ones and sat across from him. Propped her feet on an empty chair. (And was the hem a little bit shorter on that skirt? He could see her strong knees tonight - and a touch more thigh than he was used to.) "Boyd still fuckin' with that married woman?"

Kit cleared his throat. "Hell yes. Idiot."

Jude shook her head. "He's gonna get his ass kicked."

"Yeah. Her husband's a big son of a bitch."

"Life lessons." Jude shrugged. "I don't get it, though. Boyd's a nice lookin' fella. He could do bettah than some mom twenty years oldah than him."

"He's obsessed."

"It's unhealthy." She spooned more gravy onto Kit's potatoes. "Bitch must be rich."

"Nope. Broke as a joke."

"Hm." Jude's lips pursed. She crossed her legs. A bare foot bobbed in mid air. "Must be the sex, then."

Kit's eyes skated down smooth, exposed thigh. His throat went dry. He drank his beer. "Must be...pretty fucking good."

"Or pretty good fucking." She winked at him.

He busted out laughing. "I guess that's more um...more likely." They didn't talk about sex. Never had. It made Kit uncomfortable. She was making him uncomfortable tonight. Something about the secret smile was different. And her skirt definitely was shorter. And her hair was thicker and curlier than usual - still wet from a shower. And the top two buttons on her blouse were undone. "Roast is excellent, Jude."

"Thanks." She stood, clearing away now empty serving bowls. "Reason numbah two to get yarself an oldah woman."

"The cooking?" Kit grinned.

"Yep."

"What's reason number one?"

She looked over her shoulder at him, hands in the dishwater. "Ask Boyd."

"Oh." He flushed. "Right." He brought his dish over. She slid to the side, allowing him to wash it up. She rinsed it, smirking. Kit wanted to wrap his hands around her waist. Really feel how she'd thickened up. He remembered her skeletal body flailing in the guest bath; the bruises, cuts, and scratches. The ribs. Surely those bruises had faded. He bet her skin was soft and supple. Bet her breasts were nice heavy handfuls.

She reached across his crotch suddenly for the dish towel hanging from a drawer and he jumped. She paused, a sultry side eye. "Sorry," she breathed. But she took the towel painfully slowly, wrist barely brushing his crotch. She dried her hands and folded the towel neatly across the sink. He watched her, frozen.

"I'm gonna have a smoke." She gestured to the porch.

"I'll uh - I'll join ya in a minute."

"Kay." She patted his tummy as she walked away, the pat slipping into a fleeting stroke. Kit couldn't help his grunt and lurch.

He had to piss. Leaned over his toilet for a full minute, erection making this difficult. "What the fuck?" He whispered to himself. He needed to get it together. "It's Jude," he murmured, zipping up. "It's fuckin' Jude."

Fuckin' Jude was lounging on the porch swing, legs stretched up and hair tumbling off the seat. Her toes were curled around the hanging chain. She was smoking leisurely, flicking ash over the swing back. Her free hand rested against her chest (where there might have been a third button undone now), fingers lightly brushing just above cleavage.

Kit ignored. He hopped up onto the porch railing near her. Gestured to the cigarettes on her belly. "May I?"

She extended the pack wordlessly, but when he nearly grabbed it, she snatched it back, chuckling. He gaped, hand out like a doofus. "Really?"

"Yar face!" She smiled, biting lip. "Here."

But again she snatched the cigarettes as soon as his fingers brushed the pack. "Oh, you are on some bullshit tonight!" He laughed.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry." She sobered. "Here. Far real this time." She held out the cigarettes. Kit stared at them. "Really!" She shook them at him. Hesitantly, he reached. Stopped. She still held them aloft, waiting. He reached a little further, watching her face suspiciously the entire time. Finally, he snatched them quickly. "I thought ya trusted me, Kit Walkah."

"Yer a piece of damn work, Judy Martin." He spoke around a cigarette, tapping his clothes. "Thought I had a lighter..."

"I got one." She drawled, eyes closing.

He looked down at her. She did indeed have a lighter. A slim silver Zippo snug against the bare skin of her chest. Kit prayed quietly for strength. "Can I use it?"

"I dunno." One eye opened up at him. "Can ya?"

His nostrils flared. "May I use it?"

"Bettah." The eye closed again. "Yes, you may. Since ya have such nice mannahs." The secret smile was in full force.

He waited. She made no move to hand him the lighter. He cleared his throat. Still no acknowledgment. A heavy sigh. "Jude."

"Hm?"

"The lighter?"

She took a slow drag of her own cigarette. Discarded the butt with a dismissive flick. "What about it?"

"Jesus Christ, can I use it?"

"I said you could!" She snapped, fighting a laugh. "You don't have to ask the Heavenly Host."

"Well, would you-"

"Ya waiting far an invitation?" She interrupted. Fingers slipped alongside the Zippo, caressing herself gently. Down. The fingers slipped past the edge of open blouse until he saw the first real curve of breast.

"Yar serious." His balls ached. She gave him nothing. "Fuckin' fine." He slipped from his rail perch and rounded the swing, muttering. "Pain in the ass..."

But his hand genuinely shook as he reached for the device. The swing swayed ever so gently. His fingertips brushed skin and yes, it was as soft and as warm as he'd imagined. But Jude giggled, tickled probably, and the movement shifted the lighter down a little further. He had to chase it, trying not to think about the firm flesh pressing into the backs of his fingers. "Shit," he muttered, finally lighting his cigarette. "Not funny!" He stabbed the cigarette at her, pacing.

She turned on an elbow. It made the cleavage worse. He groaned, turning away. "I'm just trying to discourage yar bad habits," she apologized.

"Trust me. I could have way worse bad habits, Jude."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"What's gotten inta you tanight?" He asked her, incredulous. "How many beers did you have?"

"Just the one." The secret smile said. "Yar just tense is all. That bad day got ya all uptight."

He scoffed. "Jude -"

"You should relax more." She ran a foot down a leg. "Like me."

"I'll do that." Kit leaned on the railing now, well away from her. Stared out at the fireflies in the yard while he tried to discreetly adjust himself in his jeans. He heard her shift. Heard the swing creak. Soft footfalls.

"I need the lighta back."

"Yeah?" He finally looked at her. She'd perched herself on the railing now beside him, leaned into his space a little. "Too bad."

"Don't be mean." She poked his shoulder.

"Ow! Me mean?" His heart raced. He wondered if she would be doing this if she knew... "Jude." Her name was a warning.

"What?" She wiggled on the rail. And when she wiggled everything on her wiggled. "Come on, Kit." Her foot slipped past his thigh, nudged him closer, in between her dangling legs. She slipped a cigarette between plump lips, challenging. "Light my fire."

Something snapped. Challenge accepted, his cock said. "Fuckin' c'mere ta me," his mouth said. He cast his smoke into the yard. One arm wrapped her waist. Her gasp was victory. The cigarette tumbled forgotten from her lips. He grabbed her head, fingers tangling in gold silk. He pulled her mouth to his and as soon as he knew she wouldn't pull away the hand went for the flesh she'd offered earlier.

He gave up resistance and she didn't offer any. His fingers were swift in satin bra and he cupped firm flesh, groping, pinching an already hard nipple. "Ah!" Her head fell back and his kiss traveled sloppy down her chin, her neck. Her nails dug into his shoulders, legs wrapped his waist.

"Judy." He growled against her quickened pulse. "I'm gonna fuck the hell out of ya! I can't stop!"

"Don't stop!" She pulled his lips back to hers. Their tongues tasted each others' and her hands were between them. He realized in a haze of lust that she was unbuttoning her blouse, untucking. He helped, seeing she was steadied by her legs' hold on his waist.

"Christ, I want ya so bad." He pulled the blouse away from her body, tugging it roughly down her arms. It caught at her wrists and while she struggled to extract herself, he pulled the bra down, too, finally able to knead and suck at the woman revealed.

"Kit, that feels so good!" She moaned, legs tightening. The blouse hung from one wrist now. She embraced him, holding his head to her chest, one hand scrunching down his chest to his waistband. She fought with button and zipper. He took over, clumsily working jeans and undies over his captive hips.

"God, Jude." She boosted herself on the railing, hands pushing to raise her own hips. Kit held one leg, steadying her while his fingers wrapped the soggy crotch of her panties beneath bunched skirt. "I'll take ya inside," he whispered, nuzzling an exposed breast. "Ta bed. Ugh!" His dick brushed hot thigh.

"Fuck me here!" She snapped, embracing him. "Now!"

"Fine." The panties couldn't be helped. There was too much strategy involved and their brains had melted past the point of planning. So he rose on his toes, pulled the cotton and lace aside and slid inside the seductress.

They groaned in tandem. He gripped the rail with one strong arm and the woman with the other. She was panting in his ear. "Move," she moaned. "Please, Kit!"

So he did, tried to control his body's urge to take her like an animal but failed. The porch railing jarred with every thrust. He curled a creamy leg over his free elbow, opening her just a little more and apparently the angle was working magic in her cunt - or she was simply primed for passion - because she tightened on every plunge.

He wondered how it was possible. How had this really happened? How did he end up buried to the hilt in this woman? In this nun who once imprisoned him, beat his ass on multiple occasions with multiple beating instruments, subjected him to tortures even she didn't know about? And how had she become such an irresistible diabolical goddess? Wondering things was a temporarily effective distraction from the pressure, the pleasure building in his gut. Temporarily effective.

He couldn't go on much longer. "Jude." He kissed her ear. Her jaw. Her mouth. "I can't. I'm close. It's too good. I'm sorry." Each syllable was a threat to his waning stamina.

"Shit. Just a second," she whined. "Touch me, Kit!"

Yes, that would help. The arm holding her leg curled over it, fingers able to barely work their way into skewed panties and stroke that recalcitrant bud that blossomed like a hothouse orchid. "Please come for me, Jude." His voice was strained now, demanding. "If ya don't I'll have ta eat ya out on the porch swing."

"Promises, promises," she hissed. Her breath hitched. "Fastah!"

Fortunately, faster wasn't a problem. His back burned. Knees shook from the strain on his legs. But it was so goddamn worth it when she tensed, latched onto his neck like a vampire. She muffled a scream with a mouthful of flesh, teeth scraping. The seismic clenching in her cunt brought him to his own, shuddering, debasing release.

He pressed thumb hard to her clit, open mouth gorilla grunting into her hair as he pumped what felt like a lifetime's worth of hot, sticky semen into her willing well. "Ohhhh, Jude." Any tenderness he might have hoped to deliver was tempered when they both lost balance. He staggered backward, managing to right them both by swinging sideways against the rail. "Woah, you okay?" He was grinning like a fool. When he looked down at Jude pressed to his chest, she was, too.

"I'm fabulous," she hummed.

He laughed. Wasn't sure why. Might have been the adrenaline. Or the fact that his pants were around his ankles on his front porch. "Good thing we're so far back on the lot," he murmured into her hair.

"No doubt." She agreed, pushing hair away from her face. Coiling tendrils were wet with sweat. "God, Kit..."

"Don't tell me yer surprised."

"I wasn't sure," she admitted.

"Oh, please. You were askin' for it tonight."

"Yeah, I was." She chuckled. Patted his chest. "Ya did good."

"Thanks. Um..." He looked down at the state of them. "You wanna go in? Maybe move this to a bed?"

"You wanna take me ta bed?"

"Well, my porch has never exactly been ground zero for sexual activity."

"It is now." She cupped his jaw, searching his face for a moment. He met her eyes, not hiding anything. Finding what she was looking for, she stepped back. "Let's go, then."

They ended up in the tub, not the bed. Jude was eager to shed her leaky panties, and Kit had worked up a solid sweat between her thighs. So now she lounged between his thighs, hot water caressing them.

"We um...we doin' this now?" Kit asked.

The candles flickered - cast shadows on the bathroom walls. "Looks like it," Jude answered softly.

"Okay." He cupped her breasts again. "You have the greatest tits. Honestly, Jude. They're...just perfect."

"I'm glad you like 'em." She turned for a kiss.

They sighed contentedly. Kit rested his head against the tub rim, looking up at the fluttering light designs on the ceiling. "Jude?"

"Huh?"

"You know how you said you remembered everything?"

"Yeah."

He hesitated to broach the subject. "Do you remember almost two weeks ago? The night before the kids took you out to the woods. Before you saw the angels?"

She was quiet. He couldn't see her face. He hoped he hadn't injured this moment somehow. Hoped he hadn't resurrected demons better left dead. "I remember," she answered quietly.

He wrapped her tightly in his arms. "What were you dreaming, Jude? Or...or seeing? You were scarin' the hell out of me."

"Kit?"

"What?"

"I don't think I want to tell you that."

"That's fine, Jude." He kissed her ear. Gentled her. "That's okay. I just...I just wanted you to know that I was there."

"Oh, you were most definitely there."

"I didn't mean ta-"

She twisted suddenly, hushing him with her lips. "Stop. It's over. It was a - a horrible story. With a shitty ending. And I like the rewrite bettah."

Kit smiled at her. "I do, too."

Her hand started travelling. He moaned into their kiss as she stroked his renewed erection in the cooling bathwater. "I much prefer...happy endings."

"God, Jude." He stopped her wrist. "We're gonna flood the bathroom if we keep this up."

"So take me ta bed. Like a gentleman." She hissed when his fingers explored the difference between her wetness and their bath's wetness.

"Mmm. I can't guarantee I'll treat ya like a gentleman ought to when I get ya there."

"You bettah not." She stood over him, dripping, offered her hands to help him up.

"Nah, nah, nah." He kissed her knuckles before settling them on the shower pipe behind his head. "Hold on." Nudging her knee, he settled one foot on the tub's rim and buried his face in the trim blonde fur between her legs.

"Oh, Kit!" Her head rolled to a shoulder, jaw slack. "That's...God, it's been a long time." Her eyes closed. Knees shook. Kit knew he was pleasing her and that pleased him. He'd been good at this - oral. Knew that not too many men were willing to take the time to do it properly, to listen, to learn. But for him, one of the greatest turn ons was his partner's pleasure and he'd practiced to that end.

"I need ta lay down if yar gonna do that!" Jude suddenly gripped his hair.

He chuckled, looking up at her. "Yes, ma'am." His toe pulled the plug.

This was much better. Spread across the bed he could much more genuinely appreciate the beauty of his partner - the planes and curves of her in the muted starlight. And he was delighted to discover she was a noisy lover, unashamed to beg and curse and unleash the animal sounds humans had avoided since their evolution. Jude let passion make her primitive.

He teased her for a while - licking patterns and sucking until she bucked before backing off. She enjoyed the torture. Her own hands kneading her breasts told him so. He would have told her how damn sexy it was, but he was determined to taste her orgasm, slipping his fingers into play with his mouth.

The ploy worked. She let him work her to a fever pitch, greedy for the ribbons of joy wrapping her spine. But her tolerance waned. She grew impatient for the little death. "That's enough, Kit," she mewled. "Please!" Her knees opened wide. "Make me come, now."

He focused his attentions. The sucking. The rubbing that one spot... She unraveled quietly. Intensely. Her body drew up like a snake preparing to strike before a final, gasping release.

"Fuck, you feel so good now," Kit breathed in her ear, sliding into her hot, wet, worked orifice. "So wet and so sweet, Jude."

"Good, baby," she managed, breathing through his rough thrusts.

"I wanna fuck you about a thousand ways." He turned her slightly sideways, curving a thigh over his, still pumping within her. "Can I?"

"Do whatcha want. I'm yars." She gripped the duvet, groaned into it.

"Hell, Jude." He turned her once more, raising her ass and squeezing it as he slid in and out of her from behind. "Say that again."

"I'm yars, Kit!" She spat over her shoulder. "Keep fuckin' me this good, and I'm yars forevah."

"I like the sound of that. Lay down." On her stomach, he pressed her into the mattress, worked a hand underneath her belly and down until she squealed. "Yeah, there's the spot," he murmured in her ear. "That feel good?" She nodded, groaning, toes curling so hard they hurt. "Yeah, it does," he agreed, aching. He put a twist in his hips now, screwing her hard and slow. "Gonna come for me again?"

"I - yes!" She whispered, concentrating on the new sensation his cock was creating. "Oh, God..."

"Pray fer both of us, Judy." He sped up - just enough to get her panting. Pulled on her hair until she groaned. "Yer tight as an oil valve. Mm. Come on, now." Her body tensed again. He could feel the fluid seeping onto his hand still cupping her cunt. "That's it, Judy. Nice and pretty. Lemme feel ya let go." And just that easy... "Yes, sweetheart. Fuck, there she is! Shit, Jude!" He dirty talked her through her third gut-clenching ecstasy, coming inside her soon after on a few sloppy shoves.

"Jesus..." Kit collapsed on her back, loving kisses peppering her sticky shoulders. "You okay, Jude?"

"Mmhm." She pushed up on elbows, blew bangs out of her face. "I'm...great, Kit."

He pulled out of her with a grunt, flopping into the hastily cast aside pillows and slapping her ass. "Jude." For some reason, he was laughing, rubbing at his face as he stared at the ceiling. "What the fuck was that?"

"That -" she reached over him for the cigarettes on the nightstand " - was reason numbah one to get yarself an oldah woman."

"No shit." He pawed at her breasts while she lit her smoke. "You were...I mean, you were amazing, Jude."

She chuckled. "Nice ta know I still got it." Modesty wasn't an issue. She sat beside him against the headboard butt naked, smoking. They shared the cigarette. "You know. You weren't too bad yarself, Kit."

"I'll get better with practice."

"I'll clear my schedule far yar lessons."

He sobered, staring at her smiling profile. "Jude. I lo-"

"Let's get some water." She slapped his knee sharply. "I'm dehydrated." He watched her leave the bedroom, blinking, before following her to the kitchen.

The secret smile gained a new meaning after that night. And perhaps Kit developed his own. Secret smiles they shared over the children's heads. Secret smiles they shared when they leaned against that porch railing, when they made love quietly in the wee hours, before they kissed, after shared showers, during the kids' favorite show...

Together. Alone. The secret smile knows no boundaries - no limitations. It is more than an expression, and more powerful than death. More powerful than any mystery, or any horror imagined or real. It heals. It seals souls together.

It breaks apart the dark.