It was an amazing sight to see; a man as strong as Sam done in.  She watched him as he jerked, gasped when he swelled thicker, seemed even harder in her before she was filled with his liquid heat.  Irene caressed his back, her fingers already knew the planes and furrows of his back, his spine, the scars he'd been left with.  She caught her breath as he lay atop her.<br/><br/>His question made her laugh again.  "Oh, baby, intense seems too mild.  I lost my vision there for a moment."  And, then his next comment, his mention of her potion, caused her to gasp and sit up abruptly.  She slipped from the bed to run to the dresser and yank open the second drawer.  There, nested amongst her delicate stockings, sat the small glass bottle...on its side, a dark stain on the white stockings.<br/><br/>"Oh!  Oh NO!"  Irene grabbed the bottle and picked it up, holding it to the light from the window to see if anything still was in the bottle.  The cork was old, dry, and had fallen out.  It had never been a problem before, but the dresser had never been a location where she'd had sex.  She looked at Sam.  Had he asked her to marry him again?<br/><br/>She was breathing hard, trying to still the panic that was rising in her.<br/><br/>"I believe we are, Sam.  That's what the paper says, anyhow.  But...Sam, ...two days...I've forgotten to take this for two days and the way you...well, you aren't exactly short on supply when it comes to coming.  I might..."  She felt dizzy even thinking it.  No...women didn't get pregnant that easy or there'd be a saloon full of round-bellied girls, right?   Irene returned to the bed and sat down on the edge, the bottle in her hand void of all contents, a slightly almond scent wafting from the dark glass.<br/><br/>She stared at Sam who looked a bit confused, which was understandable.  Women didn't usually dash away and exclaim "Oh NO!" when proposed to...<br/><br/>"Sam, of course I'll marry you.  But...there's a slim chance you've started more than a marriage..."