Hard Lessons

The common sense part of Jon's brain began screaming, "Nooo! You've already had way too much booze!" But the giddy, carefree, semi-inebriated part of his mind told him not to be a wet blanket, and he tossed back several shots of Jack Daniels over the course of the next hour.

Jon was shitfaced drunk by the time Carrie Jenkins sauntered over and plopped herself down in the seat next to him. She scooted her chair close to his, making sure that her leg was tightly pressed up against his.

Carrie took a deep breath, filling her lungs and deliberately thrusting her ample chest out even farther. She was sexily dressed in a tight black skirt and an even tighter short sleeved yellow sweater, and Jon's eyes were automatically drawn to her full breasts.

"Why Jon," she pouted, "you haven't even said hello to me tonight. Are you ignoring me?"

"I wasn't ignoring you, Carrie. It just looked to me like you already had plenty of company." Not long before Jon had seen Carrie sitting at the bar, surrounded by men hoping to get lucky, as usual.

"Now Jon, I'm never too busy to talk to you," Carrie said. She smiled sweetly, her blue eyes latching onto his. She reached out and ran a red laquered fingernail up his forearm.

"In fact, I don't think we talk nearly enough," she purred breathlessly.

Her touch on his arm sent an involuntary shudder of pleasure through Jon. His thoughts were muddled, and he wasn't sure what to say to her. He was unnerved.

Just about that time another shot of whiskey appeared in front of him. In an attempt to calm himself, he swigged it down. Bad idea, he thought to himself as the room began to spin around him.

He was more drunk that he'd been in years. Carrie, with her white-blonde hair and her tight sweater gave him her most seductive look and rubbed her stocking clad leg against his jeans. His cock began to stir to life despite his rapidly advancing drunkenness.

"How about you and me go someplace where we can talk in private?" she asked suggestively, leaving little doubt as to her intentions. Carrie was apparently in the mood to fuck, and Jon was the man she wanted.

Jon closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. His voice was slurred as he managed to reply, "I dunno, Carrie. You know Marilyn's my girlfriend, and she'll kill me if she finds out."

Carrie had smiled slyly. "Marilyn won't find out. And where is she tonight, anyway? She shouldn't let a fine looking man like you out of her sight." She had punctuated her point by softly stroking his thigh.

His alcohol soaked brain was having great difficulty responding, so his dick began doing the talking for him. "Where can we go?" he asked as his head spun dizzily. He was now barely aware of where he was and what he was doing.

Carrie grinned then, knowing she had him just where she wanted him. "We can get a room at Harper's Motel. It's close by. Which means we can be alone real quick if you want."

Suddenly, Jon realized that he and Carrie were in his truck, pulling into the parking lot of the motel. He didn't even remember leaving Garvey's.

In a surreal string of events, Jon checked in, paid for a room, and was given a key by the hotel clerk. The next second, or so it seemed, he was in the cheap room fucking Carrie with an animalistic vigor. Everything was disjointed and confusing.

In one moment of clarity, Jon was looking down at Carrie as he fucked her, her long legs locked over his. He could feel her pointed fingernails raking down his back.

Suddenly a vision of Marilyn popped into his head, and he was immediately slammed by a wave of guilt. He knew he should stop, and he tried, but his aroused body betrayed him by continuing. He just couldn't make himself stop thrusting his cock into Carrie's hairless pussy, no matter how hard he tried. It was all a huge mistake, but having his hard dick buried in her slippery pussy just felt too good to stop.

Carrie was moaning, apparently loving everything he was doing to her. Abruptly, he couldn't stand the sound of her voice - he wanted to tell her to shut up, just let me finish, but he couldn't find his own voice. Instead he began uncontrollably fucking her eager pussy even harder, pulling and twisting her rigid nipples as he jammed his cock into her wet slit, over and over.

Jon felt like he was outside of himself when Carrie begged him to come all over her. He willingly obeyed, unable to help himself, pulling his cock out of her and letting loose a milky white stream of cum, coating her breasts and belly. And then it was over. He didn't even know if Carrie got off or not, and he couldn't bring himself to care.

When the orgasmic sensation began to die away, he was hit with the awful realization of what he had just done. Jon felt a bit ill, disgusted with himself for allowing this to happen. He was more sober by that point, and he gritted his teeth, admitting to himself that he'd just fucked someone he cared almost nothing about. The cheap nastiness of the encounter came into horrifyingly sharp focus.

He got up from the bed and moved over to the other side of the room, pulling on his pants before sitting in the worn chair in front of the chipped and scarred motel desk. He didn't want to be anywhere near Carrie at that moment.

"What the hell's wrong with you?" she asked in an annoyed tone.

Jon opened his mouth to answer, to tell her he'd made a big mistake, when there was a soft knock on the door.

Jon felt instantly sick to his stomach when he heard the knock. He just knew that it was Marilyn at the door.

**********

Marilyn was spending a quiet night at home alone, alternately reading a good thriller and thinking about Jon. She missed him whenever he was gone.

She looked at the clock and saw that it was already quarter after ten. She was really expecting Jon to be home by now. She was toying with the idea of going to bed when the phone rang.

At first she was annoyed, wondering who would be calling this late. Her annoyance immediately turned into worry. Maybe something had happened to Jon, or something was wrong with her mother.

The voice on the other end of the phone belonged to Alma Majors, one of Springville's gossips of the highest order. Alma said, "Marilyn, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but your boyfriend was seen entering Harper's Motel with that slut, Carrie Jenkins about 15 minutes ago." Alma's voice sounded anything but sorry.

"What?" Marilyn nearly shouted. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"I'm afraid it's true, dear. Tom saw them himself." Tom Majors was Alma's husband.

Marilyn was suddenly overtaken by a rush of mixed feelings. Hurt, anger, and disbelief all took turns assaulting Marilyn's mind.

"I have to go, Alma. I have to find out for myself if this is true or not. I know I should thank you for calling, but I just can't."

Alma tried to sound sympathetic. "Oh, you poor thing. You deserve much better than what that awful Jonathan Emory is giving you."

Marilyn winced at Alma's tone. She sounded as though she was thoroughly enjoying this, and Marilyn's only response was to slam the phone back into it's cradle.

Since she had already been comfortably dressed in her silky nightgown, Marilyn rushed upstairs and pulled on a pair of jeans and a green blouse. She shoved her feet into a pair of tennis shoes as she walked out the door.

She jumped into her Chevelle, gunning the engine and tearing down the driveway. She sped towards town, her mind still a turmoil of battling emotions. This just couldn't be true, could it? Surely Jon wouldn't do something like this to her. At the same time though, Marilyn thought if it would have been anyone other than Carrie Jenkins that Alma had mentioned, she never would have believed it. But deep down Marilyn knew that Jon harbored a certain attraction for Carrie.

Marilyn found herself silently praying that this whole thing was a mistake, some kind of misunderstanding. But as she pulled into the parking lot of Harper's Motel and saw Jon's old pickup, she realized that this horrible thing was true.

Her anger mounted steadily as she went inside and talked to the hotel clerk, and had her fears confirmed. Jon had checked in almost an hour ago, and the clerk said that he had seen a woman sitting in the truck. It took a bit of arm twisting, but Marilyn got the clerk to tell her which room they were in.

Marilyn walked up to Room #6, and stood outside the door. She took several deep breaths, trying to compose herself. Then she reached out and knocked on the door.

**********

Jon opened the door, and there stood the love of his life. Marilyn's dark eyes were filled with hurt and betrayal. Then she looked past him and saw Carrie still sitting naked on the bed. Her hurt expression quickly progressed to a look of sheer fury.

He tried to speak to her. He opened his mouth to try to apologize, but Marilyn instantly cut him off. In an icy voice he'd never heard before, she said, "I don't want to hear any of your excuses, Jon. You just traded all our years together in for a quick fuck with this slut. It was just once, wasn't it? It doesn't matter, you don't have a right to say anything to me. Don't you dare come home tonight."

She turned to leave then, when Carrie said in a mocking tone, "What's the matter, Marilyn? Are you afraid I'm better than you?" Jon winced, knowing that Carrie had just made a huge mistake.

Jon knew Marilyn had a volatile temper, but he had never before seen such an instense rage come over her. Before he had the chance to blink, Marilyn crossed half the room and launched herself at Carrie, screaming with fury.

Even though Carrie was a few inches taller and twenty pounds heavier than his tiny fiancee, Marilyn effortlessly dragged Carrie from the bed and slammed her to the floor.

In a split second Marilyn was on top of Carrie. She tangled one hand in Carrie's blonde hair, using the leverage to bang her head against the floor. With her other hand she attempted to get a grip on Carrie's throat to throttle her.

Carrie didn't known what hit her. She wailed in terror as Marilyn attacked her in unabated anger. Carrie desperately tried to push Marilyn off of her, but she was unable to dislodge Marilyn's tenacious grip.

Jon moved to intervene when Marilyn finally got a grip on Carrie's throat. He grabbed Marilyn as gently as possible from behind and pulled her off Carrie. As Marilyn was jerked away from Carrie, a handful of Carrie's bright blonde hair came away in Marilyn's clenched fist.

Marilyn instantly whirled around, facing Jon, and roared, "It figures you'd be worried about your little piece of ass! You and she deserve each other!"

She glared contemptuously at Carrie, who was still cowering on the floor trying to regain her senses from the attack. Marilyn then turned her raging eyes to Jon and said, "Tomorrow I want you to pack up your stuff and get out of the house. I won't be home until late and you can get your shit out while I'm gone. I have nothing more to say to you."

With that, Marilyn's eyes began to glisten with tears. She spun on her heel and walked out of the room, her shoulders slumped. Jon's heart broke seeing her so hurt and angry, especially knowing that he was the cause of it.

He wanted to go after her, try to explain, but he knew that she was too hurt and angry to hear anything he had to say. Her temper was fierce and he knew that she was going to need some time to cool off.

How could he have done something so stupid? He tried to recall the events of the evening and found that he remembered very little. God, how was he ever going to make this up to Marilyn?

His thoughts were interrupted when Carrie began yelling at him. "How could you let her jump on me like that? This was more your fault than mine. Damn you for being so pussy-whipped!"

All he could say was, "Shut up, Carrie. Get dressed. Here's twenty bucks to get yourself a ride home."

He threw a twenty on the floor and left the room. Before he started his truck he could hear her shreiking, "Get back here! You can't leave me here like this!"

He pulled out and headed for his brother's house, the only place he could think of to go.

**********

Carrie Jenkins was furious. For all these years she had wanted Jon Emory, and it hadn't turned out like she'd expected at all.

First of all, Jon hadn't been very good in bed, probably because he was so drunk. It had never crossed Carrie's mind that the only reason he'd been with her in the first place was because he was drunk.

Carrie had been so sure that once she fucked Jon that he would leave Marilyn and be with her. Instead, when that fucking bitch Marilyn had shown up, Jon had let her damn near kill Carrie.

Carrie absentmindedly rubbed her tender scalp where Marilyn had yanked out a large clump of her hair.

To top things off, Jon had treated her like some kind of cheap slut, throwing a twenty dollar bill at her then leaving her alone at the hotel without a ride. She had never been so humiliated in her entire life.

Carrie seethed with anger and said out loud to herself, "I'll get that bitch back no matter what. And Jon too. Nobody treats me like that and gets away with it!"

Slowly, a smug smile spread across Carrie's face. She suddenly had an idea about how to get revenge on the both of them.

She picked up the telephone and dialled. "Hello, Karl? This is Carrie Jenkins. I have a big favor to ask you, and I'll make it worth your while," she said with a self-satisfied smile on her face.

**********

Jon woke up the next morning on his brother's sofa, his head pounding like wild horses were galloping through his skull. He was momentarily disoriented, then realizing where he was, the memory of what had happened the night before came back to him with a sickening force.

He couldn't bear to think about it just now. Today was Friday and he still had one more day of work to get through.

It took every ounce of strength he possessed to get up and stagger into the bathroom. He pawed through his brother Alan's medicine cabinet until he found the aspirin, and he washed five of them down with water from the faucet.

After a long, hot shower, Jon made himself a cup of coffee and ate a couple of pieces of toast. Physically, he was starting to feel better, but mentally he was feeling like a basket case.

What was he going to do if Marilyn never forgave him? He couldn't imagine living the rest of his life without her.

He thought that he'd have to call her that evening and see if she would even speak to him. God, he hoped so.

Part 2

When Jonathan saw the red Chevelle pulling into the supermarket parking lot, his heart leapt at the unexpected sight of it. It had to be Marilyn. There wasn't another car like it in town, and Marilyn Milano was definitely the only female he knew in Springville who drove a muscle car with such reckless abandon.

He had just left the grocery store himself, and when he saw her Chevelle speed into the lot and come to a screeching halt in a parking spot a couple of rows over from him, he didn't start his truck. Instead, he sat and watched her get out of her car.

She looked so pretty. She was wearing a denim dress with a silver belt, and her long dark brown hair was neatly french-braided away from her face. She had a pair of sunglasses perched on her nose, but Jon could easily envision the beautiful dark eyes that they hid.

Jonathan could see that the corners of her mouth were turned up in a distracted smile, as though she were having a delayed reaction to something amusing that she'd heard earlier.

"She's definitely not thinking about me with that smile on her face," he said aloud to himself, his deep, clear voice echoing in the cab of the truck. With that thought he felt a stab of intense sadness, quickly followed by the companion feelings of guilt and remorse.

As he watched Marilyn's petite form briskly cross the parking lot and disappear inside the store, Jonathan was struck once again by the depth of his loss. He missed her so fucking much.

Marilyn and he had been apart for nearly two months now, but the pain of their separation hadn't diminished one iota. At least she's speaking to me now, he thought.

For two solid weeks after the incident with Carrie, Marilyn had adamantly refused to talk to Jon at all. Then she had been forced to talk to him because they had financial matters to discuss.

They had agreed that for the time being at least, Marilyn would stay at the house and make the entire mortgage payment. Jon would continue to stay with his brother, Alan, and he would continue to pay some of the other bills. The entire thing was just so depressing.

Marilyn's anger seemed to be slowly abating. Now they could carry on a civil conversation without her ending up frothing at the mouth. Jon was somewhat encouraged.

Jon sighed and started his truck. As he pulled out of the parking lot, he vowed once again that he wouldn't give up on Marilyn no matter how long it took. He just had to get her back.

He was already working on one thing that he hoped would make her happy. Without her knowledge, Jon had taken the wreckage of her beloved '68 Mustang out of the backyard shed, and had had it towed to Indianapolis. He had found an excellent mechanic who was in the process of restoring the car to it's original condition, and Jon had taken out a loan to pay for it.

Apparently Marilyn hadn't been in the shed for awhile, or he would have gotten a call asking where her car was. He didn't think she would take him back just because he fixed up her car, but he wanted to do it anyway. He wished their relationship could be fixed as easily.

**********

Marilyn Milano peered out of the grocery store window and watched Jon's truck pull away. She had spotted his blue Ford pick up the instant she pulled into the parking lot, and as she'd gotten closer she could see that he was sitting behind the wheel, watching her.

She thought he looked kind of pathetic, sitting there watching her like that, and she felt a momentary twinge of sympathy. She knew she was being rough on him, but she also knew that she'd never been so angry before in her entire life. Her mind immediately jumped back to the memory of the night she'd caught him fucking Carrie Jenkins, and her resentment boiled up, obliterating any sympathetic feelings.

She could still hardly believe that he'd done it and every thought of it caused her to see red. It was getting a little better, she thought. She no longer wanted to kill Carrie with her own two hands, as had been her immediate reaction that night. She also no longer wanted Jon to drop off the face of the earth and disappear, even though she was nowhere near ready to take him back. She no longer cried herself to sleep every night.

Marilyn sighed. This whole situation was enough to drive a person nuts. She was still so mad at him, but most of the time she missed him too. She was torn.

Maybe her evening out with Karl Perry would help make things better. Karl worked at the garage where Marilyn took her Chevy for service. The week after the ugly scene with Jon and Carrie, Marilyn had taken the car in for a tune up. Karl had told her that he'd heard that she and Jon had broken up, and he'd asked her if she'd like to go out sometime.

She had refused, telling him that she just wasn't in the mood to start dating yet. He had told her that he understood, and that he was willing to be patient. He had been patient, as well as persistent. He had regularly called her to renew his offer.

Karl was a nice looking guy, even if he was younger that Marilyn was normally attracted to. At 23, Karl turned the ladies' heads with his toned body and his puppy-dog brown eyes. The more Marilyn talked to him, the more she realized that he was intelligent and seemed nice as well.

That morning, Marilyn had run into Karl at the gas station when she'd stopped in to fill up the Chevelle. Once again, Karl had invited her out, and this time she had accepted.