Baby Love(138)

He moaned with pleasure; his hips gyrated against my mouth. His hands reached down cupping my face between them. He wanted me on top. I complied.

I climbed on top of him. He guided his shaft into me gently. He placed his other hand on the small of my back lowering me down onto him.

"Mmmm," I moaned feeling his fullness within me.

"You like that baby?" he asked, his lips finding mine.

"You know that I do Trey," I whispered against his lips.

"You know that it's yours baby," he said, "Yours and only yours."

"I know Trey."

He rocked me up and down; both of his hands now braced on my hips to allow him to rotate me in a back and forth motion as his thrusting increased.

"Baby you feel so good," he moaned, "No one has ever made me come like you do. No one ever could," he said, his lips crushing mine as his thrusting increased steadily.

"I love you Tylar; I never want to lose you."

"You never will Trey; you are mine."

Our orgasms came crashing down around us then; it was all about us and only us at that moment. It was about the love that we had for one another. We both cried out as we came at the same time. We laid there for several minutes totally spent from our lovemaking. Trey kissed my lips; telling me how sweet I was and how much he loved me.

Afterwards Trey wrapped his arms around me and pulled me up against his warm, naked body. From down the hallway I heard Gina yell, 'That's not fair!'

Trey chuckled pulling me close and we fell asleep.

_________________________________________



The following morning Trey walked me in to the terminal at the small private airport. The pilot was already there waiting for me in the lounge.

Trey hugged and kissed me telling me that he would be back to pick me up later that afternoon.

"I'll be thinking about you," he called after me as I started to walk out the glass door that led to the tarmac.

"You better be," I called back waving to him.

My father was there waiting for me at the municipal airfield in Baton Rouge where we landed. It was not far from downtown Baton Rouge.

My father explained that Matthew's arraignment would be held in the 19th Judicial Court that was downtown. He said that the proceeding itself would not take long. He was interested in seeing Matthew again.

My father made no secret of his contempt for the man. I was curious to see as to whether he looked familiar to me after all of these years.

The courthouse was similar to the one where my father sat the bench. He led me to the courtroom where the arraignment was to be held. We still had another forty-five minutes or so before the proceedings began. I needed a comfort break. I told my father I was going to find a restroom and would be back in a few.

Once out in the hallway I saw signs for the restrooms. I was thankful that the hallways in this courthouse did not wind around like a maze like the other one had. I was fairly certain I would be able to find my way back to my father.

When I located the 'Ladies' room I noticed one of the stalls was already occupied. I took the empty one next to it. As I sat down to pee I noticed the feet and ankles of whoever occupied the next stall. There was something very familiar about those . . .ankles. Then it came to me. Those were the same thick ankles that I recalled Ms. Deeny having.

I tried to hurry my stream but it did no good. The thick-ankled occupant in the next stall had finished up, flushed and left the restroom without washing her hands.

(Eewwww!)

I finished up making sure that I washed my hands properly. That had been so weird. I was sure that there were other people with thick ankles like that in the greater Baton Rouge area.

When I returned to the courtroom I saw that my father was talking to a man sitting at one of the front tables that was in a suit. I took a seat and my father returned several moments later.

"I just talked to the D.A.," he said to me.

"Apparently Matthew has been uncooperative with his attorney. He won't talk to him."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh I've seen it done before many times. The accused is trying to appear as if he or she is not competent to stand trial for reasons of mental illness."

"Do you think that his attorney is coaching him to do that?"

"Not unless he is asking to be disbarred," he replied.

"Anyway, this particular attorney that was retained for him is from a respectable firm. I would doubt very much if he would contrive such behavior as a defense."

This should be interesting I thought as the courtroom started filling up. It was near ten a.m. Trey and Tristan's appointment was in another half hour. I pushed that from my mind.

The bailiff came out and called the court to order. Everyone stood up as the Honorable Judge Lance Pelletier took the bench. He instructed everyone to be seated.

The first case called was Matthew Renaud's. A door on the left side of the court room opened and two deputies escorted a hand-cuffed and shackled man into the room. He was in typical prison garb. I studied him carefully. I recognized him as the same man that had been at our home in Radcliff, Kentucky all those years ago. The man from my first memory when I was on my swing set. The man that had yelled at Maggie referring to me as the 'golden goose' or some such name.

He was taken to the table where his defense attorney had risen, holding the chair next to him out so that Matthew could be seated. Matthew's head turned looking around the courtroom. For some reason I hunkered down in my seat not wanting him to recognize me. I realized I was being paranoid. I had been five years old the last time he saw me.