Jayne took a deep breath, and looked slightly upwards tosoak in the atmosphere of city partygoers moving between venues. With thebackground music of the club gone, the tune that suddenly came into herhead was Procul Harum's "Whiter Shade Of Pale," and she did really didwish she was far away from these things.Unable to dislodge that song from her head, she skipped a light fandangothrough the streets in no particular direction. Moving serenely at halfthe pace of most people, Jayne's normally good passability was compromisedby being 5' 11" to begin with and wearing heels that added just over threeinches to that. At this moment in time she did not care if anyone readher, but most of those that passed by were too wrapped up in their ownconversations anyway. The sounds of traffic and conversations underscoredher thoughts and she strolled onwards, so although her eyes were open,they might have just as well been closed.Jayne did not know why what had been her Saturday routine for so. I wasn't annoyedor anything. It was just inconvenient. A big part of me, however, wassavouring the moment, being a woman and a mother next to my man. For theoccasion, Mustapha was acting in a much less authoritarian way, helping mecope with the physical and psychological aspects of this change. In hiseyes, I could see Love with a capital L. The Love of a Man who had justbecome a father and longed to live his fatherhood next to his woman. Heexpressed the same Love in the gentle kisses and the manly hugs heshowered me with.Three days later, we left for a village near Macaon where Mustapha knewsome women. The drive in a little van was short, about twenty minutes. Allthe time, he held my hands, kissed me just about everywhere and said notto worry. All that I knew is that we were moving to this village for sometime. I wasn't worried or afraid or anything, but lactating (every two orthree hours my breasts would start producing milk in great quantity) hadmade me very sensitive on various.
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