Molly & Marilyn & Me Ch. 02

Molly looked dazzling. Her satin-white wedding dress emphasized her fabulous body and she was all smiles as her father walked her down the aisle. Molly wasn't a weeper and I got the impression she just wanted to get this formality over with so she and her new hubby could party. I was looking forward to the reception. It might turn out to be very entertaining.

I searched the assembled crowd in the church for any sign of Marilyn, but she wasn't there. I was disappointed. I'm not sure I didn't come to Seattle just on the hope that I would see her again. On the other hand, I wouldn't want to disappoint Molly. She was loyal, keeping in touch with me. I owed her this at least.

The reception was held in a nice hall not far from Boeing Field. I walked into the hall and immediately was assailed by the music. The band had already begun for some of the early arrivals and those who may have skipped the church service. The food was out and I moved toward the big table, not having eaten since breakfast at my motel. It was a magnificent spread and I overindulged, of course.

The bride and groom arrived, and after the cutting of the cake, the obligatory toasts, speeches and reading of congratulatory messages, a reception line was formed and we all queued up to pass on more good wishes to the bride and groom.

I mingled with some of the other guests, picking up an interesting conversation or two along the way. It seemed the principal interest of most guests was to determine on which side of the spectrum I fell – bride or groom. After a while, I began to alternate my answers just for the fun of it. I was either Molly's teacher or Grant's classmate. I like a little bit of confusion now and then.

I got a chance to chat with Grant before he and Molly left for their honeymoon in Hawaii. In fact, he sought me out after Molly told him who I was and why he should be grateful to me. He seemed like a great guy, with a good job and excellent future prospects. I got the sense that he was head-over-heels in love with Molly and that was fine with me.

I was beginning to think about leaving when I spotted her. I stopped dead in my tracks as I saw her come through the door and head directly to Molly. Marilyn was as beautiful as I remembered her. If anything, she seemed a bit slimmer than when I last saw her, but that was over two years ago. People change.

I began to move in her direction but decided not to interrupt her conversation with Molly and Grant. It seemed very animated and I thought I saw an unhappy look on Molly's face for a moment. As I got closer, Molly spotted me and said something to Marilyn. She turned and then saw me. I couldn't tell what kind of look crossed her face at that point. It didn't seem to be joy or even surprise. I continued to walk toward her.

"Hello, Tory," she said, gazing at me with a cautious expression.

"Hello, Marilyn. Good to see you after all this time. Glad you came," I said evenly.

"I'm late. I seem to be late a lot these days," she moaned with a frown.

"Are you still living in Chicago?"

"Yes ... for now." Her eyes were cast downward, the way I remembered seeing her look so many times before. It was a shy, uncomfortable Marilyn in front of me.

"How are you? Are you well? Are you enjoying your job?" I asked, knowing I just wanted to keep the conversation going.

"I'm OK. Busy ... very busy. They keep me running steadily, so I don't have a lot of time to dwell on it. The job is ... great. They pay me a silly amount, so it's worth the effort," she said.

She sounded and looked tired. The makeup around her eyes, once so beautiful and naturally perfect, couldn't hide the dark circles. As I looked more carefully, I could see her angular cheekbones were now more prominent. I thought she looked slimmer when I first saw her, and up close I was sure I was right. She looked ... harder.

"Are you just here for the day?" I asked.

"I'm staying over at the Marriot tonight and then I've got a flight back to Chicago tomorrow noon.

"Do you have time to have dinner with me? I'm staying over too," I said.

She looked at me with what appeared to be a sad expression before a slight smile appeared.

"Sure. I can do that," she agreed.

"Why don't we meet at the Marriot?" I suggested. "There's a nice restaurant next door. I'll make a reservation. Is seven OK?"

"Seven's fine. But ... do you have to rush off now?" she asked with a plaintive note.

"No ... no ... I thought ... maybe you'd want to mingle ... or something?" I said, surprised.

"No ... I don't know anyone here except Molly, her parents, and you. I'd like to find somewhere we can go that's quiet and we can relax and sit for a while. I want to talk to you. It's been so long, Tory," she said sorrowfully.

I could see the beginnings of tears forming. I took her hand and smiled at her.

"I'd love to. We've got a lot of catching up to do," I said.

That brightened her up. I swept two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and offered her one. We sipped, looking into each other's eyes and clinked glasses.

"The last time we saw each other we were doing this," I reminded her.

"Those were happy times, Tory. I sometimes wish ...." She didn't complete the thought.

Molly spotted us together and was dragging Grant with her.

"I'm so glad you both came," she gushed. My two best friends in the whole world ... except for a certain gentleman who shall remain nameless," she giggled as she kissed Grant's cheek.

"Wouldn't have missed it for the world," I said, now quite honestly.

"Have you shown Grant the before and after pictures yet?" Marilyn teased. Her mood was suddenly upbeat.

"No ... and don't you dare. You'll scare the life out of him. I just told him that we were a little overweight and Tory fixed all that," she gasped. Grant was smiling. I suspected he knew the whole story. Molly was too proud of her accomplishment to keep it a secret.

"But you," Molly said pointedly at Marilyn. "You look positively gaunt. What's with that?"

"Oh ... you know ... just the pressure of work. On the go all the time. It helps keep me thin," she tried.

Molly looked at me with a disapproving scowl before turning back to her friend.

"Come on, Molly. We've got a plane to catch in a few hours and you need to toss the bouquet and get changed," Grant said with a firm voice.

"Yes, dear. See ... he's ordering me around already and we've only been married a couple of hours," she said in mock disgust.

We all chuckled before hugging and shaking hands. Marilyn and I stood holding hands as Molly tossed the bouquet over her shoulder. The last we saw of them was their waves as they paraded out the door. I turned to Marilyn and smiled.

"There we are. Molly is now Mrs. Grant Larkin. One down, one to go," I cracked.

Marilyn turned to me and gave me the strangest look, but said nothing. I wondered if I'd said something to upset her, but I couldn't tell.

"Come on, let's go find a place to sit and talk. I want to hear all about your glamorous life," I said brightly. I took her hand, knowing now she arrived by cab, and led her to my car.

"You have a new car?" she exclaimed.

"Yes ... a present to myself for a job well done," I laughed.

I held the door for her as she slipped into the passenger seat. It was only a ten minute drive to the Marriot on a sunny, June afternoon. The Mariners weren't in town, so traffic was fairly light. We arrived and walked from the parking garage to the elevators. I was about to push the button to the lobby when Marilyn pushed the fifteenth floor button. She turned to me.

"It's more private in my room. There's a bar and a sitting area. We can relax. We can even call room service," she said with that familiar faint smile.

"Fine." I certainly wasn't going to argue. At last, I would have my private time with her. Something I wanted for a long, long while. I needed to deal with the ghost of Marilyn Lee somehow, and this was my best opportunity.

Her room was a suite, with a separate bedroom and two bathrooms. Marilyn had certainly come up in the world.

"Would you like something from the mini bar or should I order room service?" she asked.

"Mini bar, if it has a beer," I said.

"Help yourself, Tory. I'm just going to go change. Take your jacket and tie off. Be comfortable," she said with some authority. She slipped into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

I was nervous. I didn't know what to expect. This was a different Marilyn than the woman I came to know and had fallen for. Her behavior was sometimes predictable and sometimes not. One moment she was serious and almost on the point of tears and the next she was happy and upbeat. Something was wrong or different or ... what?

I wandered about the large sitting room until I heard the bedroom door open and Marilyn reappeared. She was wearing a brilliant red and black kimono. It was very elegant and suited her perfectly. It displayed her Asian heritage dramatically. She was covered from neck to ankle and yet I could still make out the natural curves of her body. She was barefoot, just as I remembered her from that last evening we were together. I sighed in regret as I thought of what might have been.

"You look lovely," I said.

"Thank you. It's the most comfortable thing I own. Everything else is on loan or given to me. I don't get to choose my clothes much any more." Again, I heard the sound of regret in her voice.

We sat in opposing love seats. I was nursing a beer and I poured a white wine for Marilyn.

"You still remember," she said, raising her glass.

I nodded with a smile. "It hasn't been that long," I chided.

"It seems like it, Tory. It seems like a hundred years. I don't know how much longer I want to go on with this crazy game," she said with a sigh.

"Can you quit?" I asked simply.

"I suppose. I don't have a contract. I'm just an employee, here as long as it suits them. One of these days I'll be too old or too fat or too ... something ... and they'll replace me. That's how it is in this business," she said in a matter-of-fact voice.

"Why don't you quit. Are you short of money?" I asked.

"Oh god no ... that's not the issue. They pay me well for this ... torture. I'm not a big spender and I'm not a party girl. Most of what I've earned I still have. I could quit today and live for several years on what I have. No ... it isn't about the money," she admitted.

"Then why?" It was a simple question that I desperately needed to have an answer for.

"It's addictive, Tory," she said, looking down at her hands. "Do you remember how hard it was to convince me that I was attractive?" she asked.

"Of course. You were very difficult to convince."

"You told me that I needed someone from the 'outside' to tell me that. You said I wouldn't truly believe it until I heard it from people who didn't know me or didn't have an ulterior motive. I never actually understood that until these people came along.

"When they offered me that first job and told me how much they were going to pay me, I knew you were right. I was so excited to discover that you were right. They thought I was beautiful. They wanted me. They wanted the real me. I couldn't believe it. It was like a fairytale. Small town girl loses weight and become big city model. Things like that don't happen in real life. Except ... except ... because of you ... they happened to me," she smiled.

"But now?" I asked carefully.

"I'm tired, Tory. It's like being on the treadmill at the rec center except you can never get off. These last two years ... it's been a blur. I don't have a social life or a private moment. I had to beg to come here this weekend. They wanted to do a photo-shoot in Arkansas or West Virginia or some damn place I'd never heard of. You know what for? Fucking blue jeans!" she spat.

I had never heard Marilyn swear before. Ever!

"Because the owner lives in hillbilly heaven, he wanted the blue jean flyer to have us stand in front of his barn or outhouse or whatever."

I could see the anger and frustration in her face, now red with emotion.

"Then why do it?" I asked again.

"I told you, it's addictive. The adrenalin rush when I see myself in the paper or on TV. I'm a celebrity junkie, Tory. I can't help myself. I can't do a damn thing about my life right now," she cried as the tears began to flow.

I stepped across the room and sat beside her, wrapping my arm around her and holding her close.

"You don't have to do this, Marilyn. It's killing you. It's killing you a bit at a time. I can see it in your eyes. You aren't the same woman that I remember. You've got to decide what you want for your life. It doesn't sound to me that what you have now is what you want tomorrow," I said softly.

She was weeping openly now, her head tucked into my neck and shoulder. I held her as she sobbed. It was all I could do. Hold her and comfort her and try and make her understand how much she could be in charge of her own fate.

We stayed like that for some time before I realized she had drifted off. I leaned back and her head flopped on my shoulder, but she didn't wake. I couldn't think of a better way to spend a Saturday afternoon in Seattle.

At some point, I nodded off as well. Not for long, but I woke realizing the sun was starting to come into the room through the window. My arm was numb, but I wasn't going to move it as long as Marilyn was asleep. She needed this desperately and it was a small sacrifice to make.

I have no idea how long we stayed in that embrace, but it didn't matter. I was in the company of the woman I now knew I loved. I had been denying it and dancing all around the reality, but now, with her here so close, I knew. And that meant I had to tell her and convince her that I truly did love her. If she rejected me, I would at least know that I had confessed my true feelings. Whatever happened after that ... well ... some things you can't control.

I could see the clock on the television and it read six-oh-eight. I felt Marilyn stir and as I looked down, I saw her eyelids flicker and then gradually open. I felt her stiffen as she woke, perhaps disoriented and wondering who was holding her, but almost as soon, she relaxed and looked up at me.

"Have I been asleep long?" The tracks of her tears were still visible on her cheeks.

"A while. You must have been tired."

She snuggled into me. I moved my arm, hoping to restore circulation soon.

"It feels so good with you here, Tory. I've missed you."

"I've missed you more than you can know," I whispered, wondering how she would react.

Her head came up slowly again to look at me. Her eyes were clear and unblinking. They widened slightly, as if she suddenly recognized something.

"Were you hoping I would be here today?" she asked.

"With all my fingers and toes crossed," I admitted.

She smiled. "I wanted you to be here too."

"Well, here we are. What do you want to do about it?" I challenged quietly.

She sat up, looking at me intently. After a moment or two, she straightened herself and then swung her leg over mine and straddled me, her face almost touching mine. She was staring directly into my eyes, again unblinking. The next thing I knew, she was kissing me forcefully and passionately. I wrapped my arms around her back and held her as she continued to kiss, her tongue forcing its way into my mouth and encouraging me to respond.

We were never this close or this intimate before. I wasn't sure what might happen next, but I was damn sure not going to stop. I became aware that she was dry-humping my leg as she attacked me with her mouth. There was an aroused woman on my hands and I was at a loss to know what to do next. Marilyn solved that problem.

She backed off and began to unbutton her kimono. She worked her way slowly down the front of the gown never once taking her eyes off me. I was tempted to watch, but I was drawn to her eyes. It was like the first day I met her. They were her weapons. With those she could destroy me. When Marilyn undid all the buttons, she shrugged the kimono off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. She was naked beneath it.

I had never seen her body in anything more revealing that her exercise outfit. Now, in this softly sunlit hotel room, she was bare and she was exquisite. She rose up on her haunches and placed a breast at my lips. I was helpless to resist. I feasted on it, nibbling and licking and nipping and nuzzling. After a few minutes she changed and I repeated the delightful exercise on her other breast.

I gazed at her body. Her skin was flawless and even darker than I remembered. She was shaved. There was no vaginal hair at all and I found the look to be enormously arousing. She continued to rub her slit on the thigh of my pants and I could see the trail of moisture that it left behind. There was no mistaking her intention. I was going to realize my dream after all.

She was naked and I was still dressed. She grinned and snorted and then slipped back off my lap and took my hand, pulling me up and then leading me to the bedroom. I removed my shirt while Marilyn removed my pants and socks. As we moved to the king-size bed, I slipped out of my jockey shorts, revealing my erection.

Marilyn pulled down the covers and rolled to the centre of the bed, lying on her back with her arms open in welcome to me. I needed no more encouragement. We came together in a fury of kissing and touching. We were acting as if we were two out-of-control teenagers, and perhaps we were.

It had been some time since I made love to Molly, the last woman I was with. Now I was with the girl of my dreams and fantasies and we were locked in a frantic embrace. I wanted to slow the pace and I worked myself free of her arms, shushing her with promises of pleasure to come. She looked unhappy for a moment, but when I began to work my way down over her lovely form, I knew that unhappiness would vanish.

I spent all my efforts making love to her. When I reached the smooth flesh of her centre, I did everything I could think of to please her. I must have been successful. I could hear her keening and felt her body stiffening as I used my tongue and lips and even teeth along with my fingers to bring her to orgasm. She was writhing in ecstasy, her voice alternating between cries of pleasure and agony.

At last, she was begging me. "Please, Tory, please. Now ... I need you now," she cried.

I moved up over her, my arms extended and my hands beside her shoulders.

"Guide me in, Marilyn. Take me where you want me," I whispered.

She grasped me firmly, hungry to have me inside her. I resisted as much as I could, but she was thrusting her hips upward, desperate for my cock. I pushed slowly against her opening and again, she drove her hips upward at me. Gentle was not on her agenda at that point.

I was surprised how tight she was and how she finally surrendered to me and let me dictate my entry into her. I took it slow and steady, pushing in inch by inch, withdrawing to make sure she was lubricated and that I wasn't hurting her. Her hips were still responding, but not as aggressively as before. Gradually, I was making progress and her moans told me she was being satisfied.

When we were finally fully joined, I lay there for a while, just savoring the feeling of being inside her. I could feel Marilyn using her internal muscles and hips to create some movement, but I resisted until I was ready. I withdrew, almost completely before I pushed firmly back in. And then again. And again. And again.

Marilyn's next orgasm was explicit and vocal. She gasped and shook and let out a cry of something between pleasure and pain. Her head was rolling back and forth, her eyes closed and then open, but unseeing. I began to move into her in a steady, deep rhythmic probing. It was a surprise to me that I hadn't orgasmed. I felt completely in control. I did not expect that at all.