tagNovels and NovellasNo Accounting For Chaos Ch. 02

No Accounting For Chaos Ch. 02

byElRoylk©

In spite of the fantastic sex, his lack of ejaculating confused her. Try as she might, he never let a drop of semen out of his penis.

Still, she was relaxed like she'd never been before. If a guy with a dry penis was her only worry, what was to worry? Work seemed effortless. They all commented on her "glow."

"Who's the guy?" they kept asking. She didn't want to reveal him yet. It was a wonderful secret.

She wasn't sure what the company policy was about fraternizing with clients, and even if there wasn't a policy, she felt it would look sketchy.

They were planning to get together for dinner again that night. She thought about his erection and had been fantasizing about feeling him penetrate her. She wished the day would go faster.

They had planned to meet at the restaurant. Another trendy place she'd read about and was tickled she could try. She had been mentally adding up the costs of the dates so far and decided to stop when the numbers exceeded her monthly salary. She arrived before him, and checked in with the maitron d'.

"Dr. Green, party of two?"

As she followed behind the hostess, she looked around the place, taking in the details. White table cloths with crystal glasses, muted colors with great art on the wall. Most of the tables were filled with couples or parties of four. She wondered how many of them knew Monty. It was a random thought, and she wondered why it had even occurred to her. As she took her seat, she accepted the menu and the wine list, not really paying attention.

She continued to ponder the question, working it over in her mind like a mental throat lozenge...a thought lozenge. She giggled at the play on words. And then it hit her: with the exception of a guru from years ago, he hadn't mentioned anyone in his life. No siblings, no parents, no friends, teachers. Even his coworkers were only identified by their job roles; she couldn't think of a specific person he'd referenced in the weeks since their lunch together.

He approached the table, his tie undone, his shirt unbuttoned. He looked like a model out of GQ, a slight shadow to his face. His eyes lit up when he saw her and he kissed her, deeply.

"Ummmm. That was nice. Hard day?"

He took a seat and settled in. "Not too bad. A little trouble at the lab, but nothing a few months won't overcome." He looked at the wine list. "Wine to start or a cocktail?"

"I've been thinking about your cock and tail all day, as a matter of fact. It's hard not to." She licked her lips to emphasize the point.

"Hmmmm...how was your day? A few too many audits?"

He selected a wine and looked at her.

"Monty," she decided to pursue the question. "I had the strangest thought when I arrived a little bit ago. I realized that I don't know very much about you at all. Except for Sundar, you've never mentioned a soul in your life. Do you have any siblings? Are your parents still alive? Tell me about your friends....."

He smiled and reached for her hands. "Two sisters, both younger -- very sweet kids...well not such kids anymore I suppose. Parents both passed away, way too young, so technically we're orphans..."

"I'm sorry."

"Not at all, it was years ago. Died in a train wreck, actually. In this day and age of flying, they died in a freak accident."

"Do you get along with your sisters? I've never seen any pictures of them at your house and you've never mentioned them."

He gave her a small squeeze and sat back, unfolding his napkin. "Carol is living in Montana of all places -- raising sheep. She has a great life, a little rustic for my tastes, but I've been out there several times. Jennifer is working at an ad agency in Los Angeles. We get together when she flies out this way. I see her when I can when I'm down there. One has foresworn materialism, the other is pursuing it madly.

"I really haven't mentioned anyone? That's weird." He looked over her shoulder at something across the restaurant, or maybe it was a memory. "Hey, I have an idea. I should throw a party at the house. I haven't had a party in awhile; it would be a great excuse for you to meet everyone. I've been neglecting them since we've been dating -- no...don't take it the wrong way, I've much preferred spending my time with you than with them, but you're right, you should meet a few of my friends. I think you'd like them."

The thought of meeting his friends delighted and frightened her. Would she measure up? A party, though. That raised a specter. She breathed in and out carefully. A party. With his friends. It's okay. You can do it. It won't be a problem.

They discussed the odd details of their day; the upcoming events in their calendar, his travel schedule...the flotsam and jetsam of a new relationship, interspersed with sexual innuendo and tension. She would have been just as happy if they left before the meal arrived and rushed back to his place to strip each other naked and fuck like bunnies, but she embraced the anticipation knowing the time would come soon enough. She decided to enjoy the fabulous food and wine.

As usual, he took a comment she had made and got philosophical about it. She had related an event at the office, in which a co-worker had been taken to the hospital. They had thought it was a heart attack, but when the EMS arrived, it turned out he had just choked on a sandwich. She brought it up because her office was usually so boring and here was something out of the ordinary to shake up the day a little.

"Was he alright?" He asked, pausing before his next bite.

"I think so. I didn't really see it. But Jane, (Samuelson's admin) filled us in. Everyone felt kind of bad that they hadn't realized he was choking. Luckily, the ambulance made it there in a couple of minutes."

She watched a kind of smirk creep across his lips, and she knew what was coming. Before she could stop him, he reiterated his belief about luck, or the very rarity of it.

He had missed the point, and his geekiness about the subject of fortune, good or bad, started to irritate her. If he didn't turn me on so much, and he weren't such a fucking gentleman, I'd be so out of here. "Look," she said, waving her fork at him. "You seem rather cold and calculating about it. I don't care if you believe we're not in control or simply affected by random bits shifting at the quantum level, the guy almost died.

"I'm not implying anything," her anger was building as she considered an absurd situation to prove a point, "but let's say we had a kid, and one day the kid gets hit by a car. According to your belief, it was one of several infinite futures that happened to be "unlucky" for us, from our 'relativistic narrative' as you put it. But that doesn't remove the very real pain of our loss. That doesn't mean we just go about our business and chalk it up to a quantum that went bad (for us)." Her rage started to get the better of her.

He was impressed at the same time he was a little hurt by her reaction. "Hey! It's not like that. I completely agree with you, and I'd be totally shaken if our child were killed by a car - you're right, of course! But my rage and pain and sadness would not be directed to a 'God' that had let me down, or to 'bad luck' any more than I would have obsessed on what you or I 'should have done' to change the past. My belief system simply says 'what has happened has happened' and I need to take care of myself (and you in this hypothetical case of having a child together)." He took a drink of water and hunched his shoulders.

"There's something else here I haven't bothered to explain, even though I seem to end up lecturing you every time we're together." He hoped she could calm down a little, giving her a sheepish smile.

"It's not just about infinite futures and quantum shenanigans. It fundamentally is about what you believe."

She stopped mid bite and raised her eyebrows.

"Seriously," he continued. "It isn't simply that I believe in infinite futures, it is that because I believe in infinite futures I am a different person.

"Belief systems change us. That shouldn't be a big surprise, right? Well, when I discovered this 'new pattern' I've referred to before, when my guru Sundar showed me the way it fit into a completely different framework, that shift in thinking fundamentally changed me. It actually changed my brain structure. That's what I'm trying to say. Merely by believing in this new thing, I was a physically changed person." He stopped for a breath. "And get this: a belief in infinite futures is an integral part of the framework -- it's like the infinite reflections between two mirrors. By pursuing a belief system that changed me in a way that was more preferred -- I could slant the odds of the probabilistic futures to be more in line with my preferred beliefs."

She paused for a moment to take in what he had said, letting her heart rate calm along with her breathing. She realized she was reacting irrationally and it bothered her. Why does this reasoning cause me to be so angry? She pondered what he had just said.

"It sounds like praying."

He smiled, reaching for her hands to strike an armistice. "Praying, or throwing the I Ching, or meditating, or Tantric exercises." He let his smile broaden at the implications of the last words.

At the mention of Tantric exercises she couldn't help but think of his erection. She blushed and smiled involuntarily before she could catch herself. She giggled, breaking the tension. "I could use some exercise..." She suggested they get out of there as quickly as possible.

It had been their first official fight, and the make-up sex made up for it in spades. He practically attacked her the moment they arrived at his house and they didn't stop making love until well into the morning.

* - * - *

She awoke early, the sun shining through the skylights onto his bed, her head and body a swirl of feelings. One feeling overwhelmed all the others: she had to pee. Quietly getting off the bed, she walked across the deep pile carpet to the bathroom. The slight burning when she wiped herself brought her back to their marathon love making the night before. She hadn't had such intensity since she was in college; her memories made her blush.

When they arrived at the house, he practically stripped her before he had closed the front door, running his hands down her breasts, ripping her panties from her and sweeping her onto the couch. He buried his face between her legs and within moments, it seemed to her in retrospect, she had screamed out in ecstasy. The thought embarrassed her a little. She hadn't screamed during sex since...ever.

And then, in the den, still buzzing, he did something, she'd never felt anything like it. His fingers brought her to the brink but wouldn't let her cross it. Again. And again. Until she begged him to fuck her. She'd never done that before.

As she splashed a little water on her face, she thought back to the images from the book he'd shown her -- the naked bodies in different positions, the discussion of his days in Sundar's ashram. The story of the young unshaved women; how they fucked and how he learned not to come. And then he fucked her, and fucked her, and fucked her again. Each time pulling an orgasm from her depths with an intensity she'd never felt before and each time his cock, still stiff entering her as deeply as she could open herself to it, her legs spread wide on the bean bag, her come spilling onto the leather. All in front of those incredible glass windows, the trees and stars an arm's reach away. She felt herself getting moist and in spite of the soreness wanted to feel him inside her again.

She wasn't sure what time it was, whether to go back to bed and try to sleep, or wake him. She wanted to feel him against her body, to watch him get hard again. Slipping back under the covers, she drifted her hand down his chest, his abs and finally to his crotch.

She cupped his flaccid member into her fingers, remarking mentally with a giggle she'd hardly ever felt it like this. She had to have it in her: in her mouth and in her cunt. She didn't like the word most of the time, but she remembered begging him to fuck her and the deliciously wicked feeling she had of spreading herself open to him, her arms over her head. It was her cunt right now and she wanted him to fill it. Ducking her head under the covers, she slid down his body to wrap her lips around his cock. Once again, the only taste was the remnants of her musk; not even that faint scent of cinnamon she remembered from their first time in the massage room.

"Mmmmm," he said sleepily. "You can do that anytime." He pressed his hands through the covers onto her head, encouraging her. "In fact, if you promise to do that every morning as a wake up call, I could get rid of my alarm clock."

She purred around his cock, cuddling his balls with her fingers, hoping today, maybe, she could coax some jism from him. She knew it was impossible. After all he had told her last night there was no way she would break his 25 year record, but the challenge inspired her.

She worked the head deep into her mouth, opening her throat to let him fuck her there. She remembered how much she used to like taking a guy's cock into her throat, until her ex fucked it all up. Nice.

In moments his legs stiffened and she recognized the vibrations through his body signaling his orgasm. She was surprised he had "come" so fast. She knew he could go hours, at least that's what he'd reported. Last night he lasted long enough to give her several orgasms before he climaxed.

She pulled off him and slithered up out of the covers, rubbing her breasts along his abs until their nipples touched. Straddling one leg over him, she slowly slipped the head of his penis just inside her lips. Slowly, gently, she enveloped him in her cunt lips, letting the moisture lubricate her. The irritation wasn't as bad as she had expected, but it distracted her momentarily. Still, she wanted to feel him deep inside her; she continued to move down his body, her canal slippery enough to let his shaft slide in. When she had bottomed out, the tip of his cock as deep as she could push it, she lifted up, letting him play with her breasts. He lightly stroked them, pulling slightly on her nipples, pulling a moan from her.

"Mmmm, Monty. I wasn't sure I could do it again after so many times last night. Ohhh! Yeah, baby, that feels so great." She lay back down on his chest, pushing her nipples against his and found his mouth. His hands went to the back of her head as his legs curled around hers. He held her tightly against him; his tongue forcing its way deep into her. She was pinned between his stiff cock and his tongue, his hands holding her head and her legs immobilized. She moaned again into his mouth and felt the familiar glow growing at the base of her spine. He didn't do anything except hold her, and within a few heartbeats she was coming all over him, her juices practically flooding out of her.

He withdrew his tongue and brushed his hands down to her ass, resting them there. They lay for a few minutes enjoying the morning.

"You promised me a tour today," she reminded him, kissing his smiling lips.

"I would enjoy that immensely. Before or after my award winning pancakes?"

She didn't doubt he had won some kind of award for them; every time she figured he was exaggerating, he substantiated his claim. She didn't bother to ask. "After. I'm famished."

She followed him into the bathroom to wash her face while he peed. She loved watching guys pee—to see that stream erupt out of their cocks, the same cock she had just shoved inside her. His body was incredible; his build mesmerized her. How could I be so lucky?

"Robes or naked?" he asked, washing his hands and face.

"I don't know, Monty. Are you expecting anyone?" If she had a choice, she'd stay naked her entire life, but she didn't want to say it.

"It feels a little chilly. How about robes, but let's not tie them." He dried off, turned to her and hugged her to him, feeling her breasts and mons against him.

She could feel his penis pulse a little and she giggled, rubbing her hands on his tight ass cheeks. I could just quit and live like this for the rest of my life. She stopped herself, troubled by the thought for some reason, and broke the embrace.

"Seriously, I'm so hungry I could eat your cock...again." She slapped at it and grabbed a robe off a hook.

* - * - *

"The design is mostly my architect's," he said, after breakfast. They had thrown on running suits of his; it left her body shapeless, but she wasn't about to go outside in a robe, or worse: with nothing on at all. The fact that the thought of walking through his neighborhood naked even crossed her mind troubled her.

He started the tour from the street, suggesting they get a feel "for the context of the house."

He lived in one of the better neighborhoods, in the top 10, but surprisingly, not the top neighborhood. She knew he could afford being in the best, so it was curious he had chosen this one. Not to say there was anything wrong with it. Mencosa Heights was an older urban development, mostly homes from the early 1920s, some post-war smaller homes, and a few recent McMansions where nouveau riche had come in with a bulldozer and way more money than taste.

The streets were lined with elms and maples, in full bloom, their leaves just starting to unfurl in the late spring weather. It was crisp and sunny and she felt more alive than she had in years. The pancakes had been excellent and she reflected on the prior evening. She couldn't remember having a date with so much deep philosophy mixed with such raw sex. Her head and body were still glowing.

They turned a corner and approached the house from the east, the sun behind them still. All of the houses on the north side of the street perched on a deep ravine, although a pedestrian walking by wouldn't have a clue. The style of most of the houses was from the 20s -- a kind of derivative English cottage, or Tutor half-timbered: woodsy with steep roofs and tiny paned windows.

Until they came to his. Set far back from the street, it appeared to be a single story box -- harkening back to the 1950s or 60s -- mostly glass, flat roofed and from the street much smaller than its neighbors. She shook her head slightly, puzzled by its apparent small size. Given how many rooms she had been in, and how spacious it was, she couldn't figure it how so little of it showed to the street.

"I absolutely hate overstatement." He continued with some irony. "And in my current situation, I really don't want to call too much attention to myself."

Both comments were ironic, she thought, smiling at him. Of all the houses on the ridge, his certainly stood out: its single story, all glass front, huge setback. But she could see how the drivers-by might completely miss it -- its small size and large set back made it difficult to see.

They walked in the front door; she had only come at night, and hadn't seen how the reflecting pool in front of the living room shimmered with sunlight.

"Like all the others, the house sits at the top of this canyon. Because of its situation, the prior owners let it go for a steal -- they felt it was practically unimprovable." He stopped in the entry and pointed out to the street behind them. "The original house was much like the others, shoved as far forward as the setbacks would allow, but even so it left very little room for a back yard. It really was horrible."

As they entered the living room she noted their clothes strewn on the floor, a map of their progress into the room and onto the couch last night. Walking to the back of the living room they looked out over the canyon. The closest house was easily ½ a mile away, barely visible over the crown of the trees. It was a beautiful vista. She imagined a creek running through it.

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