No Accounting For Chaos Ch. 10

She continued to blush and felt her arousal building. Not now!

"What are you two love birds whispering about?" Carole called from across the table.

She clammed up, now even more embarrassed at the prospect her private conversations would become the source of more jokes.

She smiled, letting them all know it wasn't any of their business, knowing it would only tease them more. She was saved by the waiter who delivered the food.

With the interruption, Marcie had a chance to breathe, remove herself emotionally from the group momentarily, and play with Monty's erection. She experienced a rush of understanding -- a flood that changed her perspective towards her friends. As she watched the plates being delivered, her fingers lightly dancing on her lover's penis under the table, she realized she didn't have the same feelings about them that she'd had even a couple months before.

The thought occurred to her that she was growing apart from them -- that she was changing. Something tugged at her as she thought about it. Am I getting hooked on Monty? Is he so different from my friends I can't put the two together?

She entertained the notion of just not playing along with them anymore. She was tiring of the teasing, of feeling constantly put down by them. With Monty, she realized, she had a way out -- she no longer needed to belong to this group, especially if they weren't going to treat her with respect or as an equal.

Suddenly a second tsunami of realization drenched her: the past 10 years of her life burst in front of her eyes -- all of the times she'd hidden her true feelings at the way they talked to her, judged her. She saw the next 10 years, with Monty, and the idea of never seeing any of them again didn't scare her. Instead she felt a welcomed independence and distance.

And then a third flood of thoughts crashed through her. She was probably getting too drunk and stopped reaching for the glass. She thought about a different future: one in which Monty had dumped her. If she didn't have him, and she had left them behind, she would have to work to build as strong a friendship as she had with them. She had to find a way to stay friends with these people -- they were the only network she had. She took the sip from her drink as she thought about the two extremes -- dump them, or live with them.

Monty pulled her back from inside her head by gently stopping her hand. She had continued to stroke him unconsciously and she realized he was likely getting uncomfortable. She turned to him and smiled wickedly before kissing him.

"Couldn't contain yourself?" She asked under her breath.

He smiled back and returned the kiss. "No. I could do this all night...you know that. It's just I was thinking your friends might be wondering what your hand is doing, s'all."

She looked around nonchalantly to take stock. No one was staring, but she was aware they were monitoring her intimacy with Monty. She could understand why -- this was the first guy they'd seen her with in months, and she was acting like a teenager, something they'd never seen since she'd divorced her ex.

She pulled back her hand and considered her situation. It was clear she was going to have to get her relationship with Monty understood -- if he wasn't willing to commit, at least at some level, she could deal with that, perhaps even move on. If he was, she needed to know what the rules were so she could adjust the other connections she had in her life. It was obvious she needed to either build better bridges with these long-time friends, or burn them, but before she took that step she needed to know where she stood with Monty.

Won't Patti have a field day with this!

As the evening unfolded, she made light conversation and watched as Monty engaged everyone around him with his charm. She enjoyed her meal, the food was tasty and the alcohol felt great, but she didn't stop thinking about how she had changed over the past months and how she no longer felt the same about these people.

As they wished each other good bye, Carole pulled her aside momentarily. "You seemed pretty distracted tonight. Is everything still going well? We didn't have a chance to talk about anything...real..."

"It's all great, Carole. I guess I was a little nervous about Monty and y'all, but I think it worked out great, yeah?"

Carole nodded and smiled, turning back to the group. Marcie looked over at Monty who was engaged in a deep conversation with Jocko about some technical thing or another. Carole was saying her goodbyes to everyone else; Marcie paused to consider how she wanted the evening to end: go home alone or with Monty.

She watched a little while, listening to his easy conversation with someone who had been a complete stranger two hours before. The others were clearly impressed by him -- he was gracious and sincerely interested in their lives, contributing to the topic without monopolizing the conversation. Yet, as she listened more carefully, she realized he revealed almost nothing about himself -- almost exactly the kind of conversations they'd had when they'd first met. He is a master at small talk, but he is so fucking deep! The image of how deep he could go, his fist inside her, his cock just an arm's reach away, her body, naked except for the small dress she had on. Definitely going home with him...

At a pause in the conversation, she turned to him. "So...do you have any plans for the rest of the night?"

"I don't, actually. Would you like to get going?"

They were standing outside, waiting for their cars.

"Would you like to come back to my place, or do you need to get going early?" She wanted to be home for once, in spite of the elegance and luxury of waking up in his house.

He thought for a moment. "Yeah, that would be fine. I'll follow you?"

He paid the valet for both of them and she slipped into her car.

She'd had too much to drink. It was obvious the minute she got behind the wheel. It wouldn't have been the first time she should have had someone else drive, but she realized this was just plain stupid. She stopped the car, opened the door and walked over to him.

"I shouldn't be driving." She shrugged apologetically.

"Glad you said something. Why don't you park it around the corner? This neighborhood isn't so bad. I can get you back here in the morning."

It wasn't really on her way to work but it was better than nothing. He followed her as she parked, opening the passenger door for her.

When she got in and was about to buckle her seat belt he stopped her. "Too drunk to drive, smart move. But too sober to do me a little favor?" His wolfish smile sent shivers up her spine. What did he have in mind?

"It depends." She stopped trying to buckle up.

"You know what I'm thinking, right?"

She had an idea and it made her shiver again. It was 15 minutes to her house, 10:30 at night on a Thursday. What was the risk? His side windows were shaded, so it would only be drivers coming straight at them. The alcohol warmed her to the idea.

"I don't know, Monty, it seems kinda risky, doesn't it?" Her cunny was tingling at the thought. They were out of sight of the restaurant in case any of her friends came out, but still, what if a cop drove by?

"I'd love it. You'd enjoy it. Yes? No?" He started to put the car in gear but wasn't going anywhere.

The thought of riding with him through the streets completely exposed was so frightening, but the terror only added to her arousal. She bit her lower lip and looked at him. She could see a bulge starting in his trousers. She licked her lips and threw caution out the window. In one movement she pulled the dress over her head and off her arms, releasing her breasts and cunny to the night air.

She watched him watching her; he turned a switch and the roof slid back letting the cool air rush across her naked skin. "Lie back," he suggested. She played with the seat controls until she was reclining all the way back, her legs extended, her breasts open to the stars. "Spread your legs a little, I want to smell you."

The idea that he could smell her musk as he drove surprised her, and the intimacy of the suggestion caught her by surprise. She did as he suggested, feeling the car lurch into the road. She quickly pulled the seat belt across her naked skin, the shoulder belt crossing between her breasts.

As they drove he kept up a steady banter, asking her questions about her friends, what she thought of Jocko and the others. She wasn't sure why he had such an interest in him in particular and was about to ask, when his right hand drifted down to her breast, caressing her nipple.

"Uhhhhnnnhhmmm. That's nice....uhhm, why are you interested in....uhhnn, Jocko?"

His fingers trailed down her belly; he leaned forward a little to dip his fingers into her slit.

"Oh," he answered casually, "he has some interesting technical skills. I'm looking for a couple of guys for a project."

She moaned as he painted her lips and landing strip with her moisture. She couldn't believe she was doing this; she couldn't believe he wanted her to do the very thing she wanted to be doing the most. It was too good to be true and that concerned her: I shouldn't be doing this, but the thought was wiped away by his finger dipping into her.

She moved her hand onto his lap, gently coaxing his penis beneath the folds of his pants, working him into an erection she hoped was as distracting to him as her arousal was to her. Each time a car passed, its headlamps shining across the interior she cringed until after a while she relaxed knowing they couldn't really see her. Once, while stopped at a traffic signal, a large truck pulled up beside them, but either the driver wasn't paying attention or couldn't see through the darkened windows. Monty spread her legs a little while they were stopped, fingering her until she moaned loud enough to be heard outside the car.

Eventually they made it back to her condo, her cunny oozing liquid onto his leather seat. She reached for her dress as he turned onto her street, but he stopped her.

"Try and leave it off," he suggested, gently.

"What?" It was then she realized he expected her to stay naked as they entered the building.

She shivered at the idea of being exposed to her neighbors at the same time her pulse increased; her pussy clenched. He pulled into her underground garage and parked in her space. She looked around tentatively -- the garage served four units -- all three of her neighbors were home. She looked at the clock -- 10:47; unlikely they would be coming out. But one never knew -- maybe they were having a night of it, or were planning a quick trip to the ice cream shop.

She looked at herself, splayed out in his car, her slit open and leaking, her breasts highlighted by the ceiling lamps shining through the sun-roof. Other than the seat belt, looking like a restraint in some bizarre S&M movie, the only thing she was wearing was her shoes. Her brain was still enveloped in an alcoholic haze, although she felt more tired than buzzed. He shut off the engine and closed the roof, waiting for her to move. To get to her condo required walking across the garage to the entry, going up to the second floor in the shared elevator and walking the short hall to her unit.

The voices in her head screamed at her to be sensible and throw on the dress, but the feeling in her groin begged her to do it, to give into the temptation and wickedness of it. Each time she imagined being naked in the hall, the elevator, the garage, she clenched a little, leaking more juice out of her.

"Well, are you coming?" He asked it quietly, the double meaning not lost on her.

"You told me not too." She giggled at her little-girl tone of voice.

"Come on. This is turning me on."

He pulled the key from the lock and opened his door, forcing her to make a decision.

She grabbed her dress, took a deep breath and before she could think about it further, threw open the passenger door and eased herself out. She looked back at the garage door and realized anyone coming down the street would see her silhouetted. She quickly closed the door and walked to the entry, pulling her keys from her purse with practiced motions.

"Here, let me help you." He walked up to her and took the dress, leaving her to manage the lock. She quickly opened the door, hoping against hope no one would be on the other side. Once she was through she held it for him and then quickly shut it.

They were alone in an elevator lobby -- the elevator itself was two floors up according to the indicator. She turned to him, looking at this erection through his pants and slipped her hand onto it, moving into him for a kiss.

Melting her lips against his, she pushed her tongue into his mouth, bringing his arms around her. She moaned into him as his hands massaged her buns, opening and closing them, exposing her brown hole over and over again. She pushed on his erection, feeling its hardness and needing to feel it inside her. After what seemed like an eternity, she pulled away, inhaling deeply and sighing.

"We should probably go up, yeah?" He arched an eyebrow like Mr. Spock.

She giggled. "How much more 'up' can you go?"

He pinched her ass and turned her to face the elevator. "Let's find out."

The elevator arrived and she held her breath as the doors opened. Exhaling at the sight of the empty cab, she entered, clutching her purse. As soon as the doors closed, he pulled the emergency stop button.

"What?" She gasped.

"Humor me, okay?" He said it as a directive, but asked it as if she had a choice.

Dropping her dress he used both hands to turn her to face the side wall of the elevator. Running his hands down her waist and in between her legs he asked her to spread them a little more.

"Take your hands and open yourself for me."

She knew what he meant but couldn't believe he wanted to take her this way, here, now. "No, Monty. Not in here. Can't we wait, just 1 minute?" She heard her voice, almost whimpering. Why don't I just say 'No!'?

"We will. Just humor me. You'll see."

She rested her forehead against the wall, spread her legs and using her hands opened her ass cheeks to expose herself to him.

"You have no idea how beautiful you are this way; how much this turns me on." His hand slid between her legs, his index finger slipping into her cunny, and she felt how wet she was as he caressed her. "Pull yourself open, just a little bit more?"

She stretched her cheeks wider, imagining the wrinkles around her hole spiking out. And then she felt his finger lubricating it, pushing into her. She clamped down and wanted to let go, but he took his other hand and rubbed it on her back, soothingly.

"Just let me in. We'll be inside in a minute."

She tried to relax, to let him penetrate her, and finally he had pushed his finger in to the third knuckle. She saw herself, as if from a camera in the ceiling -- a naked woman, spreading herself for her man as he penetrated her asshole. She breathed deeply, looking down at his shoes between her feet. As his finger wriggled inside her, she suddenly realized she had to pee -- she hadn't gone at the restaurant, and all of the alcohol seemed to have rushed to her bladder all at once.

"Monty...please. I have to...I have to go to the bathroom. Nooooo, oh god, noooo, please..." As she begged him to stop he kept massaging her, pushing up against her bladder until she felt a small stream of urine dripping from her, down her leg onto the floor. "No, please. God, I'm making a mess, please, no...." But in spite of her protests, it felt better to let it flow. She saw the puddle growing between her feet and the smell wrinkled her nose. She battled to keep it from coming out, but the more she fought, the more she wanted to let loose. "Please," she begged again, quietly. "Please don't do this."

Keeping his finger in her, he released the emergency stop and pressed her floor.

Horrified at the thought of what her neighbors would see now -- not just her naked but her naked, impaled on her lover's finger and peeing in their elevator, her mind raced at what she would say, what she could say now, to him, to stop this madness.

The elevator passed the first floor and she realized her stream had stopped. She didn't even want to look down at the mess she had made -- she tried to think how she could clean it up. His finger pushed into her, distracting her again and then the doors opened onto her hall.

She gasped at the realization they had arrived, and then breathed easier when she saw yet again they were alone. She started to move, but he held her, telling her to stay still just for a moment.

Keeping his finger in her, he took her dress and wiped the inside of her legs, then dropped it onto the puddle on the floor. She cringed at how he had transformed one of her favorite outfits into a common rag. Using his foot, he mopped up the puddle, removing the liquid even if the smell remained.

"I'll get the rest of this in a moment," he said softly. "Let's get you inside. I can't pick up your dress, unfortunately. Can you do it?"

She bent, the pressure from his finger pushing further into her, further fanning the orange glow that had begun in the car. She gingerly picked up the dress, trying to avoid the soaked parts and stood back up. His finger was deeper inside her.

As they left the elevator together, he kept his finger in her asshole, pulsing it with each step. She grabbed her keys again and walked as quickly as she could, his finger playing against her insides, his other fingers fondling her cunny.

She opened the door, unconsciously turning on the lights, but immediately she realized her curtains were open and her neighbors were sitting in their living room. Horrified she hit the light switch and stepped all the way in so he could close the door behind her.

"Why don't you go to the bathroom and I'll finish cleaning up the mess." He pulled his finger from her with a small pop, went to the kitchen to wash his hands and grab a rag while she rushed to the toilet.

Sitting down she relaxed her sphincters letting the majority of her bladder empty in a whoosh into the bowl. The feeling of the urine leaving her, of letting her muscles finally relax and the relief of not having to hold it washed over her. What the fuck am I doing? She couldn't believe what she'd just let him do to her -- in her own home! That he was gentleman enough to clean up after her said something, but she couldn't believe she had just let him violate her so...brazenly.

Yet, the effect of being ravished, in public, with the potential of being discovered echoed through her, feeding the orange glow until it started to lick at her internal organs. The image of his cock, so hard inside his pants, how much this turned him on all conspired against her outrage, pushing it aside.

He appeared at the bathroom, as she was still sitting there and smiled at her. "Thank you. That was so amazing. Wasn't that amazing?"

She felt...vulnerable...and...exposed. It made her laugh a little. Exposed. Here. After she'd been about as exposed as one could get out there. "Monty. I...that was...I'm not sure what that was." She took some paper and began wiping herself, a little self-conscious he was staring at her. She looked down momentarily. A noise made her look back up to see him unbuckling his trousers and slipping them off. His cock sprang up, not yet completely erect. He stepped forward, his erection swinging like a small sword toward her face. It was at just the right height for her to take it into her mouth.

She looked up at him to see his face: his eyes were expectant, shifting between hers and her lips.

She reached up and took his member to her lips, softly kissing it, rubbing her fingers across the silky skin to his wrinkled sac. She continued the stroking with both hands, lightly cradling the shaft and his scrotum, handling his balls. She kept the tip in her mouth, swirling her tongue on his hole, hoping again to pull even a small taste of his cum into her. The cinnamony taste was still as she remembered it.