Molly & Marilyn & Me Ch. 02

I could feel Marilyn coming down from her orgasmic high and I slowed my stroke and then rolled her over on top of me. We lay unmoving for a while until I could feel her practicing her Kegel exercises on me again. I smiled and we kissed and nuzzled for some time until I began to thrust slowly up into her.

I felt her bring her knees up beside my hips and then push herself up with her hands on my chest. She began to ride me and it felt wonderful. There was no rush, no urgency as there was earlier. I watched as her beautiful big breasts bounced joyously as she rode me. It was a sight to behold and my hands did behold. She leaned down several times to kiss, and the smile on her face told me that she was enjoying every stroke.

We continued for several minutes and as yet there was no feeling that my release was imminent. I don't ever recall having a reaction like this but I certainly wasn't complaining. It was Marilyn who slowed first and then collapsed. Her arms buckled and she lay on my chest. I was still inside her and still very erect. But I didn't care. My lady was in my arms and everything was good.

"You hungry?" she asked finally.

"I could eat something," I admitted.

"Room service OK?"

"Fine."

She reached for the phone but couldn't manage it. I rolled her over twice and she laughed. She squinted at the card on the phone, picked up the receiver and punched a single button.

"Room service, this is room 1505. I want two of your best steaks, medium rare with baked potato and a Caesar Salad. Oh and a bottle of your best Bordeaux. Thanks," she said, hanging up.

"Thirty minutes. You think that gives us enough time?" she snickered.

"Nope. But ... a little food to recharge the batteries and ... we'll be off again," I replied with a smile.

Marilyn's face became serious.

"Tory ... I can't tell you how many times I wanted this to happen. I was in love with you, you know," she said without hesitation.

"And I'm in love with you," I admitted.

"You can't be. After I ran out on you?" She was surprised, if not amazed.

"You didn't run out on me. I never told you how I felt. I never had the guts to tell you I loved you. I have from the first day I saw you in the Pickled Pumpkin."

"Why didn't you tell me," she cried, distraught.

"Marilyn ... I've never been in love before. I didn't know what it was all about. I just knew that I had strong feelings for you, but ... I didn't know how to tell you. Besides ... after Molly's blowup, I didn't dare."

"You dumb stupid ... man! Do you mean to tell me that you wanted me and I wanted you and neither of us was able to tell the other?" she asked incredulously.

I must have looked a bit shaken. "I guess so," I said tentatively.

That's when she hit me. She hit me with her fist on my chest and it hurt like hell. I looked up at her, about to get angry when I saw the tears again. This wasn't anger, it was frustration. We wasted two years of our lives because we couldn't tell each other how we felt. Great!

I held out my arms to her and she collapsed into them. She bawled and I admit I shed a few tears as well. What a pair we made. A couple of uptight adults, each wanting the same thing and unable to tell each other. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry with Marilyn. She was turning on the waterworks fairly frequently this afternoon. She kept her emotions close to the surface. That wasn't all bad, in my book.

We just lay together until the food arrived. I put on a bathrobe and Marilyn put on her kimono. I told her several times how much I liked it and how lovely she looked in it. She signed the outrageous bill and left a generous tip. She was happy. I could see it in her eyes. Those beautiful eyes. They told me everything about her. She was happy and that made me especially glad.

We ate and drank the wonderful red wine and lounged in the bed. When the dinner was cleared away and the trolley out in the hallway, Marilyn skipped back into the bedroom, throwing off her kimono in the process. Naturally, there was no further need for my bathrobe.

There was an elephant in the room, however. What would happen tomorrow? Would she get on that flight to Chicago and go back to her frantic routine. Would this just be a few hours of pleasure and then ... nothing? Did I dare bring the subject up and possibly destroy the joy and rediscovery of today? I would have to make a decision before tomorrow morning.

We lay on the bed, just talking and kissing and fondling each other. It was so natural and yet so erotic. She wanted to know about my life and my career. She was genuinely happy for me. She reminded me that she wanted to study interior design when she was young, and she still hung on to that hope. That memory sparked an idea.

"Marilyn, what if I were to sponsor you at Michelson College. It's a two year course, but their credentials are very good. You would be well trained when you graduated. Would you be interested?"

"Tory, I don't think I could qualify. I've been out of school too long," she said, surprised.

"No ... actually, I have some pull there, but in fact, they evaluate mature students on their capabilities, not their high school grades."

"I'm a mature student?" She seemed to find that hard to accept. I suppose it was because she wasn't thirty yet.

"Well, in terms of their definition, yes. Anyway, it's there if you want it. I think you're capable and when you graduate, there's a job for you," I said.

"A job? Where?"

"With me. I'm going out on my own. I've finally decided to take a chance and live my own life. I've been hiding behind my employer's skirts too long. The last couple of years have helped me decide to take my future in my own hands."

"Are you serious?" she said, her brow wrinkled in surprise.

"Absolutely. We'd make a great team," I smiled.

She was silent for a while. "Is that it? A job?" she said somewhat deflated.

"Well ... no ... not exactly."

"So ... what, exactly?"

"Well ... since I'm in love with you ... and ... you're in love with me. Well ... we could get married. We'd be partners," I said carefully.

"Oh ... married." She seemed taken aback by the idea. Then she smiled. Then she kissed me.

"And we'd live happily every after?"

"Yeah ... that's the idea," I grinned.

She looked at me carefully. I wondered what was going through her mind. Did she doubt my love? Did she doubt her love for me? I couldn't tell.

"Let's talk about it tomorrow. Tonight ... I just want to forget everything and make love. OK?" she asked uncertainly.

I sighed. No answer. No commitment. "OK," I managed finally. I would take whatever she would give me and be grateful afterwards.

I had never indulged myself in a night like the one Marilyn spent with me in Seattle. I don't know how much we slept, but it was very little. I was determined to please her in every possible way and make it impossible for her to leave. In my imagination, she would phone her boss and quit her job in the morning and we would race off home to live that dream life I'd always hoped for.

When I awoke that Sunday morning, I knew it wouldn't happen. Marilyn was already up and packing her suitcase. She was showered and dressed and I saw a bottle of orange juice and an energy bar wrapper on the dresser. When she saw that I had awoken, she turned to me. There was no good morning smile. I had a hunch why.

"Will you drive me to the airport, please Tory?" she asked.

"So, I take it that from our conversation last night ... the answer is no?" I asked, hoping I was wrong.

"I have a lot of commitments, Tory. I can't just up and leave. I have responsibilities, just like you. Surely you can understand that," she said in a level, no-nonsense voice.

"I understand I love you. I remember you telling me you loved me. What else is there to understand," I said, feeling a slow burn begin to develop.

"It will have to wait. I have to finish what I started. It won't change the way I feel about you," she said in a conciliatory tone, coming to the bedside to sit and hold my face in her hands. She leaned forward and kissed me gently.

I looked at her and sighed.

"When did you start using the pills?" I asked.

"What pills?" she jumped.

"The diet pills I saw on the counter in the bathroom."

"Oh ... a while ago."

"Do you know what's in them?"

"No ... not really. I use them to keep from gaining weight. I need them with my schedule," she tried.

"I'll tell you what's in them. Phentermine. That's a clone of amphetamine. It used to be called speed, and it's illegal without a prescription. What doctor prescribed these for you?" I demanded.

"I don't have a doctor. I get them from my company. I just have to ask for them," she said, beginning to show signs of anger.

"Great ... your employer is an illegal drug pusher. Just great," I spat.

"Look ... I don't expect you to understand. You live in your nice little world and work at your nice little pace. Well I don't. Try to get that through your head," she snapped.

"Don't you give a damn about your health? Those things will eat at your liver and kidneys. Is that your reward for all your hard work?" I was almost yelling now. I couldn't be more frustrated with her.

"It's my business, not yours," she flamed as she pushed her self up. She grabbed the handle of her rollaway and then her purse. "Don't bother taking me to the airport. I'll get the shuttle," she fumed, stomping toward the door.

"Marilyn!"

She stopped, holding the door and turned to look at me. It was a look of sadness, not anger. She knew what this meant.

"Goodbye, Tory."

The door closed quietly behind her. I rolled over on the bed and pounded my fist into the mattress a half dozen times. How could everything turn to shit like this? Last night was paradise and now ... hell.

End of Chapter 2

My thanks as always to ErikThread for his editing skills and his helpful suggestions.

Any errors or omissions are mine alone.