Marcy's Playground Pt. 03


"Baby," he said softly.

"More learning?" I asked playfully.

He shook his head.

"No?" I pushed away from him a little bit. "No? I feel like all of you are always telling me no."

"No..." Jean-Luc said.


We laughed.

He kissed me again.

"No lessons tonight, baby," he said. "Just us."

"The lessons are really important," I said.

"Yeah," he said. He kissed my forehead, my temple, and then my cheek. "Sex for sex's sake is important. Sex for learning is important. But tonight, how about sex because it pulls us together, because it's an important part of a relationship. I get part of us is me teaching you, but I don't want that to be the only part."

He kissed my lips, then my collarbone.

"Sex is great, sweet star. Intimacy is priceless."

Jean-Luc kneaded and kissed my breast through my shirt. Suddenly I understood.

"Hey," I said.

He stopped suckling me to look up.

"It's not just sex you want to teach me, is it? It's knowing. It's knowing you. It's knowing myself. It's knowing who I could be, at my best. It's knowing who we are together."

Jean-Luc smiled wide and caressed my cheek. "Now you get it. It's knowing that we're better," he caressed my cheek, "when we touch deep."

He rubbed his fingers over the wet patch on my shirt, zeroing in on my nipple. I arched my chest into him.

"I want to know that when I touch you, you feel it in more places than just where I'm touching you."

He stopped touching my nipple to put a finger over my heart.

"Because you do that for me, baby. Every time."


"None of this is what I expected," I said.

"Love never is," Jean-Luc said. He rolled me under him. The weight of his body on mine was delicious. He kissed me, and it was the slow, sensuous dance that went from appetizing to driving me wild.

He ground his hips against mine, gently. I could feel the start of his erection, still a new and wondrous sensation to me.

"Sweet star, I was thinking," he said when he broke off the kiss.

"What?" I asked.

"Your list. You don't have to do all those things. You don't have to do any of those things. You just have to wait until enough time has passed between each thing you do, before you feel comfortable enough in your skin to try something new."

"I'm comfortable enough now," I said.

He didn't say no, but I could see that doubt in his face. Instead he said, "Well, maybe I can help you get there."

Jean-Luc kissed me again. I had a moment where I felt grateful and lucky, and then I was lost in the kiss.

He rubbed his hips against me, and slid his hand between us to find my breast again.

"I really like this," I whisper.

Jean-Luc chuckled and kept going. He rolled off me slightly, so just part of his body is over mine. He caressed his hand over my breasts in a figure eight pattern. Ooooh. I really like that. He caressed down my belly, up my sides, over my breasts again.

I reached for him and mimicked his motions, but on his chest. I had the distinct feeling that they aren't doing quite as much for him as they are for me.

Jean-Luc very slowly took off my shirt. The way he looked at me while he does it taught me something else. It's like how Evan looked at Heather. With a deep caring that resonates.

It made me feel more naked than being naked. But I trusted him.

I giggled.

"Sweet star?"

I reached up to kiss him. He turned the light out, and suddenly everything was different: all touch, no sight.

He reached under my skirt and rubbed me through my underwear.

"Do you want me?" he asked.

"All the time," I whispered. "Like, literally, every single minute. It's gotten really bad. I fantasize about you while I'm at work. It's a good thing I work in a sex club, I'd feel really guilty if I worked a normal job."

He laughed. "I fantasize about you too, sweet star, and I've got no excuse."

Jean-Luc kissed down my body, and then pushed up my skirt. He rested his face on my thigh.

"And I'm about to make some of those things I've been fantasizing about come true."

I tensed up. What if he doesn't like me down there?

Jean-Luc came up a little, kissed my hip, the side of my waist. He dragged his face over my ribs, and I could feel the beginning of stubble on my skin. He was going so slow, rubbing his lower lip, over every inch he teased. I imagined what it would look like, the deep dusky pink of his full lip against the creamy whiteness of the places on my skin that hadn't had a chance to tan.

He pulled my underwear off, very slowly.


"Yeah," I said. Oh God, I sounded breathless.

"I'm still lucky you're letting me do this," he said.

"Me too," I said, and he chuckled.

Then he was THERE. Opening me, and kissing me, and swiping up with the flat of his tongue, and sucking that whole button into his mouth—oh fuck.

A buzzing lit off in my head. Like a million fireflies kamikazing into a bug zapper at once. I started thrashing, and Jean-Luc threw his forearm across me to hold me down. I vaguely felt his other hand biting into my hip, moving my hips in circles, grinding me into his face, as I—oh shit—just dripped more and more while my body started to jerk.

I clamped my legs together around his head. It was too much. I was on overload. I couldn't take it. I shook my head in a no, no, no, against the pillow, my hair tangling up over my face, but he couldn't see.

He rasped his teeth over me and I came hard. A shattering fireball into the summer night.

And still he didn't stop.

Oh God.

My whole body shook, as if I was having an epileptic fit. I drew in a deep breath to tell him that was enough, except then I came again, softer this time, but just as powerful, and it stole my voice away.

I tried to coordinate my limbs enough to push him away, but they weren't working.

"Stop," I said.

He stopped.

And started laughing.

"You're not supposed to be laughing," I said.

He scooted up the bed to kiss me, but I automatically turned my face away. Yick.

"It's okay," he said softly. "You're beautiful."

"Yeah, but not to me," I said.

"Maybe one day you will be," he said.


I snuck in late after my parents were asleep, and stayed in my bedroom very late Saturday morning, secretly hoping that they would be up and out of the house before I got up for breakfast.

No such luck.

I was tip-toeing into the kitchen when I heard my mom open the door.

"Hi Mrs. Marsden."

"Hi Bevvie."

Double ut-oh.

They both came into the kitchen. I tried to look casual as I reached for a box of Wheaties.

"Honey, I have to run to the store. Oh, and that packet came for you." My mother pointed to the table. Big manila envelope.

She grabbed her keys off the hook and left.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Haven't told her about banging Mr. Beautiful yet?"


"You might want to tell them, because your 'getting busy glow' is going to show." Bevvie started singing, a mash-up mix of tunes. " 'Your love is like a love song, ba-bay. Voulez-vous coucher avec moi? Voulez-vous with the cute-poo. Hot down, summer in the city. Summer lovin' happened so fast.' "

"Shut up, Bevvie. Pretty soon you'll be singing the kids' taunt K-I-S-S-I-N-G."

"That's next on my list. Oh wait, let me think. 'I got a brand new pair of roller skates, you got a brand new key.' "

"You're gross, Bevvie. I didn't even know that song was about sex."

"What about this one, 'Pull up to the bumper, ba-by.' "

I blinked.

"What?" she asked.

I'd never heard the song, but all of a sudden I had a feeling it had a meaning she didn't realize. Like maybe it was one of Evan's favorites.

"Nothing," I said.

"So I'm guessing you haven't told your units about Jean-Luc."

"Yeah, hell no. You're lucky I even told you."

"You didn't tell me, I guessed."

"Nosy snot," I mumbled under my breath.

"What was that?"

"You do that a lot," I said.

"So what's in the package?"


Bevvie pointed to the envelope on the table. I looked at it. The return address was from Emory University.

I ripped it open. It was a huge amount of info, but there was one thing I was scanning for.

"I got into that new program," I said. "The freshman honors psychology path promise."

"That's great."

"Yeah, but it says here those students have to arrive three days before regular freshman orientation. That means they want me down there on August 18th."

"That's like, two and half weeks from now."

"I can't leave now, I'm just getting started."

Bevvie looked at me.

"I can't do the program. I can't."

Bevvie rolled her lips into a thin line. She crossed her arms over her ample chest.

"I'm not sure I can even go away. I'll apply to community college here. After a year I can—"

"You are so not going to throw your life away over a guy. Even if he is like, off the hot-o-meter."

"I'm not—"


I sighed. She was right. But shit.

"Bevvie? What am I going to do?"

She raised one big shoulder in a jerky shrug. "You'll long distance it, I guess."

"Jean-Luc isn't going to want to do that," I said.

"You don't know that," she said.

"You don't get it," I said. "He's not like..." I let my sentence trail into nothing. I was going to say he's not like normal guys you meet in normal places.

"He's not like what?"

"I don't know. Everyone knows long distance relationships don't work anyway."

"Marcy," Bevvie said. She opened her arms, and I hugged her.

"What the hell am I doing?" I said into her chest. "I don't, I mean I just, the whole thing is, what do I even feel? It's wild."

She pushed me away from her, looking suddenly adult for a minute. "It's your summer after high school. You don't have to know everything."

"Yeah, but I don't know anything."

"Oh, boo hoo," Bevvie said.

I smiled.

"I'm thinking you know more than me," she said. "At least now you do." And then she wiggled her eyebrows at me comically.

"I don't know why I like you," I said.

"I share my ice cream."


Saturday afternoon I had to go into work. This was going to be my first evening working. I had a tiny bit of nerves. Would everything be the same?

I arrived at work at 1 p.m. Dead.

I caressed the grey cover of The Magician's Land. What would Jean-Luc say? Come to mama.

At 3 p.m. I took out my phone and checked the weather. 101 degrees. With heat index, 106. Bejeebers. I looked out the windows at the blinding sunshine. Maybe that explains why it was so dead. No one wanted to come out in the heat. I looked back at my phone. General average temperature for my zip code for August 2nd. 77 degrees. Oh, great. As long as we're close.

At 5 p.m. I got up and started pacing. Too much sitting on my ass couldn't be good for me.

Howard, the seventy-year-old, came in.

"Working off some frustration there, Marcy?" he asked. He handed me his card.

"I'm just trying to stay in shape for the day you come to your senses," I said.

He cackled.


In he went.

But whom was he going to play with? There was no one in there.

None of my business.

Five minutes later, Brenda came on.

Okay, that's who.

Not that I'm curious or anything.

None of my business.

Then a group of middle-aged women came in. I waited. Nobody else. I wondered. Was Howard going to—? Naaaaaahhhh.

At 8 p.m. it started to get busy. Like busier than I had ever seen it busy. For the first time all summer I felt like I was earning my pay, as people poured in. Many of them I had met before. Some of the ones I hadn't stopped and introduced themselves, and I went through the whole 'yes I'm new' routine.

And people kept coming.

On the whole they were dressed fancier. There was more of an urgency to get in, like I was swiping people into a nightclub, instead of a country club. I didn't know how much of that was because it was later, and how much of that was because people were a little cracked after the crazy, record-breaking heat.

At 9 p.m. Mr J. relieved me.

I gathered my purse, book, and water bottle, and said good-bye. He waved in my general direction, distracted and not looking, as he swiped in a gaggle of girls who barely looked college age.

I said good-bye again. Except then he was distracted by a phone call and when his back was turned I walked through the double doors with the other girls.

I hadn't even really meant to do it. I just sort of...went with the flow. Which in this case was following the person in front of me.

Into a sex club.

Oh shit.

The front room was hopping. There was a pulsing burgundy-red light strobing from the ceiling. The music was loud, the lyrics, 'marry her anyway', blasted over me, coming out slightly distorted from the multiple speakers around the room. The bass thumped up through my feet. People were dancing and swaying. The lights turned slightly bluish, suddenly accenting everyone's outfits.

It wasn't quite wall-to-wall people, but it felt like it to me. The crush of bodies moving. The sounds of people talking and laughing. A bubble of space around me closed, and suddenly I was staring at a mountain of backs and shoulders. God, I hated being short.

I pushed through, heading toward the bar, when I recognized what the song was: Rude, by Magic.

I got near the back bar and I saw a stairway and ducked down and headed down the stairs, more to get away from the throng than anything.

The music faded away completely and I found myself in a wide hallway. If upstairs was nightclub this was more...expensive fancy restaurant lounge. There were couches on each side of the hallway and people were sitting on them, sipping their drinks, and apparently listening intently to each other if their body language was anything to go by.

Someone bumped into me.

I turned around.


"Oh, hey Marcy," she said.


She took my arm and moved us out of the way so we weren't standing in the middle of the hallway right at the bottom of the stairs, blocking the way if someone else wanted to come down.

I looked at Linda. She reminded me a little of my mom, if my mom were also someone super cool who I could talk to.

"I've never been down here," I said. I just wanted to know what went on. Really want to know. Even if it was just a little bit. Could I talk to her? "I'm feeling a little overwhelmed," I said. "I work here and I don't even know much about well..."

She smiled at me.

I let my facial expression look like I was questioning, because I didn't quite know what to say.

"You know what I like about this place?" she asked.


"I feel...liked, and...cared for. I'm safe here. I can be myself here. And I can feel sexy again. Even though I'm not twenty-five anymore."


"You know fifty percent of our membership fee goes to charity right?"


"Yeah. It goes to rape crisis help and sexual disease prevention education."

"Oh, wow."

"Yeah. The point is, the place is someplace special and..." she trailed off.

"And what?"

"If there's somewhere not to feel overwhelmed, it's here. Everybody is about having a real connection. Where else do you get that?"


"You want to come in with me and watch?"

I blinked. Was she offering what I think she was?

"Ah, yes, can I?"

"Yeah, if it's okay with them."

Yikes! Them?

"Come on."

We walked past a few closed doors and a few open ones until we got to a room further down the hallway. I don't know how she knew which door to go into but she walked right in.

I was glad to see there were only two people in the room and that they were dressed. The woman was Brenda-Lynn, a woman about fifty-five. The man's name I couldn't remember. He was a little overweight with a balding head.

The room was done in subtle middle-eastern sultan.

"Is it okay if Marcy watches?"

"Just for a little while," I said. "It's for work."

"Sure," they both said.

Oh God. Ohgod Ohgod Ohgod Ohgod.

Did I say, Oh God?


Linda sat down on the long pillowed bench next to...what was his name? Barry? And put her hand on his chest. She curled up next to him.

I watched as Linda casually toed off her shoes and tucked her legs up under her. She put her face near Barry's, and asked him, in a very low voice, how his day was. Brenda-Lynn mimicked her position, and Barry somehow paid equal attention to both of them.

Brenda-Lynn started feeding Barry slices of apples, and small pieces of cheese, and grapes, from a fancy plate on an ottoman in front of them. She leaned over him to feed a piece to Linda, and they all laughed at something Barry said.

What I saw shocked me more than the idea of me working in a sex club. It was an open intimacy I just didn't think existed anymore between old people.

They loved each other.

I mean, I guess I knew this existed, but seeing it, really seeing it was so...mind blowing.

And hot.

Fuck, really hot.

They were murmuring, their voices getting lower. I was across the room, so I couldn't really hear what they were saying, but I had a feeling that they talk had turned from work to things a little more...sensual.

Maybe part of the reason I couldn't hear them well was that I was concentrating more on their body language. The way Linda's hand's rested so comfortably on Barry's chest. How he had his arms around both of them. Brenda-Lynn's gaze. Linda's lips, so close to Barry's cheek.


I spaced out for a second thinking about it. Linda could be herself. I guess everyone could be himself or herself.

Brenda-Lynn was on her knees, kissing the top of Barry's head. Barry had his shirt wide open. He had more of a belly than I thought, and his chest and belly were covered with dark hair. Linda was petting his chest and kissing his neck. He looked like he was in heaven and then some.

Part of me felt like I should be disgusted, but there was something really beautiful about it. It reminded me of Heather and Evan.

They weren't just intimate and sex buddies and lovers.

They were friends.

Linda put her hand over Barry's crotch and rubbed, and he moaned. After a minute she opened his fly and took his cock out.

I should leave. Barry tilted his head back, and a small moan escaped him. My mouth opened too.

Very quietly I left.

I was breathing heavily. I plastered myself against the wall. I was glad I left when I did. I put my hand on my chest. My heart was beating rapidly. I guess the voyeur thing? For me, not so much. But, fuck, they were hot.

I don't know what I expected happened in here, but it wasn't that. I guess in the back of my mind, I thought it was wild orgies of swingers having total crazy debauchery, hang-off-the-walls, swapping, kinky, unspeakable, dirty, wild sex.

That's definitely not what that was.

This was hotter.


Oh shit. Mrs. J.

"What are you doing down here?"

"Ah...I was curious what goes on down here."

"Well, that varies according to the day. I guess you have a better idea now."

"Yeah," I said. "It was kind of helpful actually."

We stared at each other for a second. I gathered my courage.

"Can I ask you something? When we were in your kitchen, why did you say it wasn't a sex club?"

"Because it's a love club," Mrs. J. said.


"Ow, you're on my hair."

Jean-Luc moved a little bit, and I pulled my hair out from his part of the pillow and it immediately stuck to my bare chest.

"Sex is sticky," I said.

His grin was huge. "If you do it right."

I thought back to something he said a few days ago.

"You said there were six major sex positions."

"And infinite variations there of," he said.

"What are they?"

"I think I'll show you, rather than tell you."


"No, not now. We just did the boom-chick-a-wow-wow. Give a guy a rest, will ya?"

I smiled. "Oh, yeah, you're an old man, I forgot. I have to take it easy on you."

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