Jean - The Birth of Venus Ch. 21

I hesitated for a moment before crawling into the comfort of my childhood bed. It had been years since I prayed, but I knelt beside my bed and folded my hands. I looked up toward heaven and begged for guidance. My plans to be a lawyer defending women's rights would be shattered if I had a baby now. However, I wasn't sure I could end the life or maybe lives growing in my womb.

I had no idea what would happen if I were pregnant with multiple colored babies. I might die. The babies might not survive even if I did. I knew that multiple births often resulted in babies with severe health problems.

It was just turning dark outside when I crawled into bed. I'd barely gotten an hour and a half of sleep on the short flight to Syracuse. It was all I'd had in the last twenty-four hours. In the last few weeks, I'd done only a little bit better. My aunt had arranged my nymphomania treatments, so I was awakened every couple of hours. She'd said it was to prevent withdrawal. Now, I knew it was to ensure I returned home to my mother pregnant with a colored man's baby.

Chapter 59

Bright sunlight was streaming through my bedroom window when I awoke to the worst cramps I'd ever experienced. The pain was far worse than any ordinary menstrual cramp. It took my breath away. I couldn't even scream until it started to fade after what felt like an eternity. When I managed to cry out to my mother, I yelled loud enough to wake the dead. Even so, it was a couple of minutes before she stumbled into my room. Later, I learned she had only been in bed a couple of hours.

By then, I realized there was something wet and sticky between my thighs. I sat up just as my mom came into my bedroom. She tried to hug me, but I pushed her away and threw back the covers. The sheets and my pajamas were stained red. There wasn't as much blood as I'd feared, but it still frightened me. I was in a daze. You aren't supposed to get your period during pregnancy. My mom was the first to understand what has happened.

"Thank God. You've miscarried. My nasty sister's scheme has failed."

"I don't understand. Why are you so happy? I'm bleeding like a stuck pig."

"Sweetheart, there's not that much blood, and I don't think you're pregnant anymore. So, yes, I'm happy. We need to have the gynecologist examine you to make sure, but everything is going to be all right."

I collapsed back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Was my mom, right? Was my nightmare over? Maybe God had answered my prayer."

My mom tugged on my arm. "You need to get cleaned up. While you're in the shower, I'll call the doctor and tell him we have an emergency."

I had a thorough examination by the gynecologist. He cleaned out my womb and proclaimed me healthy. He expressed his condolences and said he didn't see any problems getting pregnant again. The doctor squeezed my hand and told me to take it easy for the next couple of days.

I spent the afternoon sleeping in my freshly made bed. After a light dinner, I called my roommate at law school. She told me my room was still available, and she was looking forward to my return. When I asked if I could look at her class notes, she laughed. "What else is new, Jeannie Beanie?"

The next morning, I threw my stuff in my old Pontiac's trunk and set out for Philadelphia. Before I hit the highway, I stopped at the post office and mailed a large package addressed to The Reverend in Oregon. Inside was the deluxe coffee table book from the Santa Teresa Art Exhibition. The cover showed me posing as Botticelli's Venus. I could only imagine his expression when he turned to the page I had marked. It was the one with the biography of the president of the Exhibition. His son had even signed his photograph.

It was a terrible thing to do to The Reverend, who had only shown me kindness. However, there was no other way to get revenge on my nasty aunt and uncle. I remember the good preacher repeatedly denouncing the people responsible for the wicked Art Exposition. He'd told me, while his son and daughter in law smiled behind his back, that anyone involved with the Exhibition would spend eternity roasting in hell. Once I mailed the package, I set out for law school with a smile and the slightest twinge of guilt.

I was only an hour into the five-hour trip when I pulled into a rest stop. I anxiously rummaged through the boxes in the trunk before finding a battery-powered vibrating dildo. When I started driving again, I had a smile on my face. It was a gorgeous sunny day in the Poconos, and I was free. My only worry was how was I going to control my nymphomania if I couldn't last more than an hour without sexual release?

I held my breath as my first orgasm hit, and someone blared their horn as I drifted out of my lane. I waved at a middle-aged man and his glaring wife. My halter top jiggled enough to bring a smile to his face.

While the vibrator wound me up for my next orgasm, I thought about my aunt's nymphomania diagnosis. I'd taken a psychology course that covered sexual deviation. The more I thought about her diagnosis, the more convinced I became that I was a normal young woman who enjoyed sex. My aunt's shaming me with that horrible label was motivated by her desire for revenge. I wasn't a sex addict. I could stop anytime I wanted. That probably wouldn't happen until I was in my grave, but I told myself that liking a lot of sex didn't make me a nymphomaniac.

My boyfriend and I hadn't changed our agreement allowing us to date others while we were apart. Steve still hadn't made a long term commitment to me. He might not even invite me back again.

As my second orgasm hit hard, I decided to relax and enjoy my second year in law school. After all, most of my fellow law students were male and perpetually horny. Next summer was a long way off, and it would be a shame to waste any opportunities.