Page 64 of The Very Virile Viking

"Are you really that lack-witted, lady? I took the vow because I did not want to have more children."

"Why didn't you just practice birth control?"

"Aaarrgh!" he said, pulling at his own hair, which was tied back into a queue. "How could I practice what I did not know existed?"

"You're really confusing me, Magnus." And, frankly, scaring me a bit, too .

"Do men use these cone-domes"—he shook the foil strip in her face—"at the same time their women take birthing-control pills?"

"Not necessarily… usually only when they are with new partners and they fear the transmission of some disease."

"I have no disease. I tell you that now… just in case you might be interested."

Angela was totally baffled. "Magnus, there have been so many things this past week that have surprised you and your children. Normal, everyday things. And now birth control, which has been around for a

very long time all over the universe. How is it possible that you don't know all this stuff?"

"That I will explain to you later. It is an unbelievable story, one I just learned about yestermorn, but I have a more important task to take care of now." He undid his belt and sat down on the couch to remove his boots. Then he stood and drew his thigh-length tunic over his head. All that was left was his jockey shorts.

Be still, my heart. If Magnus decides not to take an acting job, he can always model underwear.

He'd do Michael Jordan out of a job any day. "Wh-what important task?"

"Tupping." He was already moving toward her on the other side of the room, and there was a determined glint in his eyes.

Tupping. I know what that crude, archaic word means. I also know what its vulgar modern counterpart is. Should I be offended? Nah. Maybe later. "But what about your vow?"

For the first time since he'd arrived, Magnus smiled, but it was a feral smile, and she was the target.

Without thinking, Angela backed up a bit.

"I got a dispensation… sort of."

"From whom?" she asked in a strangled whisper. Magnus had backed her up against the wall and was beginning to unbutton her blouse. The enticing fragrance of Old Spice deodorant enveloped her, along with Magnus's very own male scent.

"The God-man at Saint Agnes," he murmured against her ear, even as he pulled her blouse out of her skirt and off her shoulders, and tossed it aside.

"Father Sylvester?"

"The very one." How he got the words out, Angela had no idea because his eyes were riveted on her breasts, which were encased in a flesh-colored lace bra. As he removed the bra it was obvious he had nonpriestly ideas dancing in his head.

"And he told you that you don't have to obey your celibacy vow anymore?"

"Not precisely."

Magnus shimmied her skirt down her thighs, leaving her in nothing but her panty hose and black pumps.

Then he flicked the nipples of both breasts with his thumbs, sort of as an afterthought.

Oh… oh… some afterthought! She tried to keep her eyes from rolling back in her head and asked in as calm a voice as she could, "What, precisely?"

Magnus straightened and looked down at her, a small smile of satisfaction on his face. "The priest said it was a decision that I had to make with God." He inserted the fingers of both hands in the waistband of his underwear and dropped them nimbly to the floor.

Oh, geez! Oh, boy! Wow!

Magnus was sporting nothing but his two silver armrings, as usual, and an erection that was anything but

usual.