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Love is not something that everyone finds easy to show, or to find. But me... I... well, I love it. :3 To show that, this series of short, single-scene stories is all about the many aspects of love. :3

Love Is...Knowing when the time is right.

"Four days..."

Emma stared at the calendar.

"Four days. Oh jeez, Emmy... are you really gonna do this?"

The vixen turned a hundred and eighty degrees, her paws clutched tightly around a small object in front of her as she began to pace back and forth across the length of the kitchen. She glanced at the clock, five thirty-two. Martin would be getting home in just over half an hour, and in between now and then she had to make potentially the biggest decision of her life.

She stopped, mid way through her fourth circuit of the kitchen, and stared down at the bottle resting in her hands. It was a medical pill bottle, one full of the pill to be specific. In fact it was a little too full, because somehow Emma had gone four days without taking one! Despite it having been part of her morning ritual ever since she was fifteen years old, the vixen had forgotten four days in a row! Five, if you counted today! And where the pill was concerned, every day really did count!

Part of Emma wanted to place all the responsibility squarely at Martin's feet. After all, it had been him who'd suggested they start their weekend off with a game of dominos! If it hadn't been for that game she wouldn't have showered and dressed in a hurry, forgetting to take her pill for that day! She might have remembered later in the morning after they were done playing, but it had been around that point that Martin had chased her around the house, tickled her mercilessly, and promptly ravaged her on the bathroom floor. From that point onward their day had been a rather hot, sweaty affair, and in fact the entire weekend had continued in a similar manner.

Blushing, Emma shuddered at the memory of the past weekend. She didn't know what had gotten into them... although she knew precisely what had gotten into her , again and again and again... but they'd been insatiable. What had started as one quickie on the bathroom floor had been the starting gun for something far more passionate and protracted. They'd made rough, loud love right there on the floor of the bathroom; Emma still wearing her dress, hiked up around her waist, and Martin still wearing his t-shirt. He'd crouched down over her body, buried his shaft inside her and gone to town just as she'd asked him to!

But when it was over, when Martin had knotted her and they'd subsequently spent a good twenty minutes making out like when they were teenagers, something had seized them. An urge not unlike a feral heat, but nothing like so physiologically driven. There were no hormones commanding them to mate, just the same loving and lustful urges that had always driven their passionate physical relationship. They'd taken a shower after their make-out session, and somehow that had ended with Emma's legs wrapped around Martin's waist whilst he held her against one of the shower cubicle's walls, mating her more slowly and tenderly for the second time in an hour.

Dressed only in towels, they'd eventually made it downstairs in time for lunch. They'd made it through the meal, an achievement in itself in hindsight, but as Martin was washing up Emma had snuck up and hugged him from behind. She'd wrapped her paws around his middle, dislodging the collie's towel in the process, and cast her own aside soon after. From there it had only taken a single southward slip of one paw to give Martin's body the idea that something was going to happen, and about ten minutes later the vixen had born witness to her lover shooting his load over the cupboard door beneath the kitchen sink as she pawed him off from behind. He had of course responded in kind soon after, dragging her into the living room and burying his face in her crotch, after which point they'd made love for the third time that day.

The rest of the weekend had been a similarly sex-filled festival of physical love and desire, during which Emma had at no point thought about taking a pill. On Monday they'd both called in sick from work, but only because both of them were too tired and frankly too sore to do anything more than sleep and lie in bed cuddling. They'd still ended up making a mess once over the course of that day of course, a joke from Emma leading to them going down on one another in unison, sharing an intimate sixty-nine during which both of them were permitted to only give the gentlest, most tender licks to their delicate, overworked nether regions.

Having left the bed only three times during the course of that day, once for some food and twice to use the bathroom and shower, Emma hadn't been given much of an opportunity to have her memory jogged about her pill then, either.

Tuesday however, Tuesday was entirely her own fault. It had been a normal day. Get up, shower, eat breakfast, brush teeth, take pill, kiss Martin, then go to work! Only she'd left out one, just one, of those steps. Three guesses which, and the first two don't count!

Emma supposed that it was because she hadn't taken it for the three days beforehand. She'd gotten out of the habit, and as a result it had entirely slipped her mind even when there was nothing to prevent her from remembering.

That night, she and Martin hadn't made love. They'd cuddled, and smooched, and chatted for quite a while about how wonderful the weekend had been, but they must have fallen asleep before the conversation was truly over. Some days sex just wasn't on their minds, but it was only now that Emma came to realise how infrequent those peaceful, tender, loving but sex-free days had been over the past few months. She and Martin really had been going at it like horny teens in recent times, and while the vixen couldn't pin an exact date to it, she figured that it had been some time after they stopped using protection other than the pill.

It was that pill, that pill which Emma hadn't taken in the last five days, which stood between her, Martin and the possibility of children, and that was why the vixen was so conflicted as she began to pace around the kitchen once again. A look at the calendar upon her return from work just a few minutes ago had reminded her of that which she'd not thought of once during the last ninety six hours, and it also informed her of another fact regarding today's date. A fact which, combined with the lack of her pills in recent days, was rather important.

If her calculations were right, then it was this week that Emma was supposed to be ovulating. In other words, if there was any time of the month where it would be worst for her to forget about taking her pill, it was now! She was at her most receptive; a prime specimen of vulpine female fertility, and if she allowed Martin to make love to her while in this state, then... well, she might have a big surprise for him in around nine months time.

This was the problem around which Emma's dilemma was centred. The fact that she knew she was receptive, she knew she was ready, and she knew that deep in her heart she wanted to throw the rest of these pills in the trash. But could she do that without asking Martin? Could she actually assume that he wanted a kid with her, or at the very most optimistic that he wanted one with her now?! Part of Emma felt that she had to tell him first, to give him the option of making the decision. But if she asked, then surely he'd know that she was conflicted, which means he'd know that either she definitely did or definitely didn't want them to start trying for a baby. Then he'd ask, and even if he didn't it'd make him start to worry! Martin hadn't popped the question yet after all, and while Emma knew he loved her, ring or no ring, she also knew that the nervous, slightly insecure side to her boyfriend which he hid behind jokes and a cheesy grin would worry that she was upset with him for not having proposed before this question came up.

The vixen glared down at the pill bottle now clutched in her right hand, her left one clenched in a trembling fist by her side. She didn't understand why this had to be so hard; why society and indeed her own mind told her that there were methods and special rules to follow when conducting a situation as delicate as this one. All she wanted to do was tell her boyfriend that when he was ready, she'd bear his child! All she wanted him to know was that if the time was right, and if she was the right woman for him, she'd put a ring on her finger and call herself his wife in a heartbeat! It should have been easy; easy like loving him was, and yet despite knowing all of that the vixen still couldn't conceive how it would be possible to just greet him at the front door with such a declaration!

"Hey sweetie, I was wondering if I you'd like to impregnate me? How? By the scientific process of intercourse, of course!"

Emma rolled her eyes, hating how clinical that word sounded. Impregnate. Ugh... why couldn't science have called it something cuter?

"Marty, I was wondering... do you think I'd look adorable all round and glowing and preggers?"

The vixen winced. Maybe cute wasn't the best thing to go for in a situation like this.

"Martin..."

She sighed, shaking her head and lowering her gaze to the bottle of pills in her hand. There was only one real way to say what she wanted her boyfriend to know. She couldn't make it sound cute, or easy, or light-hearted. Emma just had to say it.

"Martin... I love you. I love you, and I don't think I'm ever gonna stop. So, if you're ready, and if you think it'd work... maybe I could stop taking the pill, and we could start trying to make a baby. I think you'd make a brilliant dad, and... hell, maybe I was being a bit harsh when I said that kids are adorable so long as they're someone else's. Forget about marriage, or the future, or anything else. Just... ask yourself, right here and right now, would you want to have a kid with me? Would that make you happy? Because in the end... that's all I want. For the two of us to be happy."

Emma sniffed, wiping a tear out of the corner of one eye and wishing inwardly that she'd be able to find the strength and composure to say anything half as eloquent as that when it came to actually talking to Martin.

She turned on the spot, intent on looking up towards the clock which hung over the kitchen door and finding out how long she had till Martin arrived from work. Something else caught her attention first though, before her gaze could rise to the clock. Something which made her heart all but stop, and her breath catch in her throat.

"E-Emma..."

There, standing in the doorway beneath the clock with his jacket in one hand and a bunch of flowers in the other, was Martin. His blue eyes, just like Emma's own, were filled with tears. The vixen didn't know how much he'd heard, but clearly it had been enough.

"Oh god, Emma."

He ran at her, dropping both the jacket and the flowers, and seized the vixen in an embrace tight enough to squeeze a sob of pure, unfettered emotion from the female's lungs. They clung to one another, both breaking down and weeping freely into their lover's shoulder. Neither one spoke, nor even so much as tried to. They just hugged, and wept, and hugged some more. For the time being, showing one another their unguarded, unrestrained love was all that mattered.

The time was right for all the feelings they had been bottling up and holding deep inside their hearts to come pouring out, and these first few, tender moments were only the beginning.

To be continued... tomorrow.

By Jeeves