tagNovels and NovellasNo Accounting For Chaos Ch. 10

No Accounting For Chaos Ch. 10


She awoke the next morning. It was early -- the sun was not yet up; the sky was a deep blue. She could see a faint star through the skylight above her head. She was disoriented for a moment and then her heart skipped a beat. Shit! She was in his bed -- it was Thursday. She had to get to work!

She turned and saw him sleeping next to her, lightly snoring. Quietly getting up she rubbed her eyes and took a few calming breaths. Go home, change and get to work, or just get cleaned up here and go in with the same clothes as yesterday?

She needed a shower and coffee for sure, either way. It was 5:13. More than enough time to get ready here and go home to get a fresh set of clothes.

She got up slowly, hoping to avoid waking him.

Sitting on the toilet she rubbed her head again. It felt like she had been drinking, but she hadn't had any the night before. The amount of pee coming out of her was a testament to how much tea she had drunk, but no alcohol.

It was at times like this -- early in the morning before her coffee -- she felt the most remorse for her antics the night before. In college, she would cry at times like this, the humiliation and shame replacing the sexual excitement that had driven her. But today there was none of that -- just a mild arousal at the idea of her submissiveness -- neither a strong attraction nor repulsion. Just another way she could have fun with him. He obviously enjoyed it, but she didn't get the feeling he needed it.

She let herself drip dry, thinking more about their relationship. Need. Did she need him? Did she felt he needed her? She rewound the past several weeks. She couldn't recall a single time where she couldn't leave him the moment things didn't work out. She had no doubt he would drop her in a flash if he felt like it. On the other hand, she was falling deeply in love with him -- it scared her a little. She knew it would hurt like hell if he dropped her. He was a fantastic "catch" as Carole would put it, but Marcie didn't want to think that way. It was too mercenary. She refused to make their relationship about wealth and material goods.

She still wasn't certain what it was about her he was attracted to. Obviously he enjoyed the sex and for that she was thankful. She had never thought of herself as a particularly sexy person, even if the boys all liked what she had to show them. Her resolve to overcome her stepmother's abuses was liberating. She hoped it would make sex more interesting. Last night, and last weekend, were good evidence of how she might broaden her horizons.

She needed to take a shower and wake up. Although his setup was a little intimidating, she was determined to figure it out enough to get washed. She left the toilet unflushed, not wanting to wake him, and proceeded into the shower room.

The only light came from the north-facing full-height windows. The room was dark grey, the boulders and tile floor only barely distinguishable from one another. She carefully made her way across the floor to the grotto and ducked inside, hoping there might be a light there. She knew there were controls for the spray but she'd never been inside.

As she entered, lights flicked on, hidden behind the rocks and casting a soft indirect glow similar to the basement. The memory of her "torture" last night pulsed through her spine. The "grotto" was a small shower room outfitted with normal controls, the walls made of the same rocks. In addition to the knobs for hot and cold, she saw there were several controls to direct the water.

The room itself was large enough for two people -- on each side of the main controls were individual shower heads, one for a person's head, and one spraying straight at their body.

Ignoring anything that didn't look like a hot or cold, she turned on the water and was rewarded with a burst of cold water spraying out of the left hand shower head. She screamed a little at the unexpected blast of cold, stepped aside and quickly adjusted the temperature. This must be where he showered -- there was a bar of soap and some shampoo that looked like it would do the trick.

Lathering up she let the hot water play against her shoulders, the warm streams cascading down her breasts. The warmth reminded her of the white flame; she could almost recall the miniature stars that had spread throughout her body when they fucked the night before. She wasn't sure if they were still there, embers banked in her skin, or whether it was just a figment of her memory. Either way, the water re-ignited her feelings from her latest trip "to the river" and she knew she had to have more.

She closed her eyes and let the water wash over her head. She raised her hands up, rinsing the lather from her hair; in this position she would be completely exposed, but buried in the grotto she felt protected, as if in a womb. That was why, when two hands brushed against her nipples, she let out a scream and spluttered from water dribbling into her mouth. Her eyes shot open and she saw Monty's surprised look.

"I'm sorry!" But he was laughing. "I couldn't resist. Your breasts are so...touchable...I had to feel them."

She batted his hands away and shot him an angry look -- more at the embarrassment of screaming than at his invasion, but even that was a little annoying; who did he think he was just pawing at me?

He reached down and kissed her, apologizing again and turned to the controls. Momentarily the other shower head sputtered and he faced her, the water warming his neck and back. She couldn't stay annoyed long -- he was so easy on the eyes and so easy to get along with. She was pleased he enjoyed her body, but he needed to know where she drew the line.

The problem was, she thought further, she wasn't sure where that line was. He stared at her as she soaped up her body, his cock beginning to stiffen slightly. She lathered up her hands and slowly dragged them between her legs, making sure she spent longer than usual on her asshole and cunny. She watched his eyes following her the entire time and she smiled at him when he looked up to see if she saw him watching her.

"Maybe you need to wash yourself a little, hmmm?" She wanted to see him stroke himself -- she'd always liked to see guys getting themselves off, and she realized he'd never done that for her. And then she remembered: even if he did, the thing she loved to watch most -- the stream of gloopy semen shooting from the tip of their cock -- wouldn't happen.

He had begun to lather up and smiled at himself, coating his shaft and balls with foam, but not spending much time there. She watched as he spread soap under his arms, down his rib cage; as he bent to wash his knees and ankles. She imagined the water running into the crack between his cheeks, stimulating his hole. Even these mundane activities were turning her on. This is how she knew she loved him.

"Shouldn't you be getting rinsed?" His question broke into her thoughts and she blinked, letting the water wash away the remaining soap.

As they dried off, she apologized for waking him up.

"You didn't. I usually get up around now. I hope it was okay you slept over here last night?" He had turned to shave, letting his towel drop.

She stared at his body while he went through his routine. She was dry but didn't know where her clothes were. She didn't want to put on dirty underwear in any event. And then she remembered she'd taken them off long before they went to bed. No doubt her skirt and blouse were right where they left them: in the theater.

"I need to get home and change clothes. But I was wondering if I could have a cup of coffee before I go?"

He nodded, his mouth closed as the razor moved over his upper lip.

She hung up her towel and left the room, heading up to gather her clothes and make a quick breakfast. As she walked to the theater, she realized she might as well leave them off as long as possible -- she would enjoy leaving him to start the day with a boner.

Standing in the kitchen orienting herself she saw her naked reflection in the windows. It was getting lighter outside, the last pinks and oranges of the sunrise brushing across the strips of clouds on the northern horizon. After poking around a little she managed to scrape a pot of coffee together, cut a bagel and get it toasting and mix up some frozen juice. She noted his refrigerator wasn't terribly full, but the food that was in it was reasonably well maintained and fresh.

He came in as she poured herself her juice; she offered him some, completely ignoring the fact she was naked. Didn't he always have a cute young naked woman serve him orange juice in the morning? The thought made her smile. He couldn't stop staring and she knew he was starting to get erect.

Popping the bagel out of the toaster she took a seat at the peninsula and buttered it, sipping her coffee. "Did you have a nice time last night?" She looked him directly in the face as he stood across the counter and watched him struggle momentarily to drag his eyes away from her stiffening nipples.

"I had a great time, but I was concerned about you. Did it go okay for you?" He took a sip of coffee and leaned into the other foot.

"As usual. One of the best fucking times I've ever had." It was true. Each time they got together it was better than the last. She was getting a little concerned that eventually they would top out and it would all become humdrum....Of course, with that gizmo it would be possible to call up anything...but then again, would that get tiresome too eventually?

He gulped a little at her reaction and then smiled when he realized she was serious. "You seemed to crest much more quickly and more intensely. Yes?"

She agreed. The intensity and length of the white fire was much more than the prior two times. And it came on without nearly the effort; she hadn't been abstinent for any time at all...

"How do you experience it?"

His question interrupted her memory of him spreading her open, both on stage and in the love seat. She took a moment to gather her thoughts.

"It's not like a wild stallion, and it isn't even like wading in a river, although I try to call it that when I think of it. It's more like a white hot fire that wraps itself around my spine and then gathers my brain in its hands." She stopped, hearing what she was saying. "That's just silly...."

"No...no! Many have described it like that. It's a common metaphor. The gurus have created a small catalog of analogies over the centuries. That is not an uncommon description, but it is not the most frequent one either. White fire. It seemed to do something different last night for you; I noticed you peaked and then something...something happened. Was it different?"

She thought about the explosion and the stars. "I don't know if it was different -- I've only done it two times before, so I don't know what the common experience here is. But yeah, as I was trying to stay on the knife's edge -- not come and not get too self-conscious about not coming, the fire just balled up and then WHAM! It exploded. I could feel the remains of it like small sunbursts all over my skin for the longest time. I even thought I was feeling it in the shower this morning."

He nodded, closing his eyes for a moment. "How long has it been since you had your last orgasm?"

The question stopped her short. She thought back over the days...She hadn't come over the weekend with him at the resort -- it had all been put off until that evening and she didn't come then. Then it came back. "Sunday," she said kind of sheepishly, not wanting to share the fact she'd masturbated in the shower. "night. After I got home I needed to take the edge off..." She felt like apologizing for some reason. "Why?"

"No. Nothing. Sorry I couldn't have been there." He smiled. Then he looked a little serious. "Listen. I would really like to see you able to 'embrace the fire' without so much trouble (that's a better way to describe it, yeah?)."

She nodded, both at the suggested change to the description and the suggestion of making it easier to achieve.

"To do that," he continued, "it really would be best not to have an orgasm for as long as you can stand it." His expression made it clear he was serious -- sort of professorial.

She giggled at his seriousness and at the suggestion. Like it was a challenge for a woman not to have an orgasm. But she understood. With him it was easy for her to come; just thinking about him standing there watching her eat in the nude made her tingle. She nodded and looked at him, a twinkle in her eye but also letting him know she got it.

"Hey!" She suddenly remembered, the coffee hitting her brain. "You're planning on coming tonight, right?"

He looked at her blankly for a second and then remembered. "Of course -- let me know where it is. 8PM, right?"

"Actually, I think it's been called for 7, but if you can't get there that early, I'll make sure we don't have too many without you."

"7. Yeah, that's going to be tough. I'll try and get there before 8, but if I'm running late, I'll call you."

"Shit. Speaking of time, I've got to go." She slipped off the stool, picked up her blouse and skirt and went to the front bathroom to get ready. Moments later she returned, downed her coffee and juice and came over to him.

"Thanks, Monty. I can't tell you how much fun I'm having, and..." she paused trying to find a way to say it without being too glib. "This...experiment you're doing...with Patti? I think it's making a huge difference. I can't tell you why, but these past couple of days, I've felt so different...so much less worried. I can't explain the difference. It just seems to be working."

He put his arms around her waist and leaned in to kiss her. The taste of coffee and juice mingled across their tongues. She could feel the bulge in his pants press against her thigh and she pushed against him, hoping to make it harder.

"Save that for later, yeah?" She motioned with her elbow to his growing erection.

He kissed her again and walked her to the door. Watching her get into her car and leave, he once again felt a wave pass through him -- there was something about her...something she had that he needed, but it wasn't yet clear to him what it was.

* - * - * - *

"Hey! Are you alone? Isn't he coming?" Carole greeted her in typical over-the-top fashion.

"Hi and how are you, too!" She gave her a hug and went around the table greeting everyone who had arrived.

She had purposely come a little later than planned, hoping to reduce the time between their arrivals. She had spoken to him on the way over -- he was running late and would likely be there past 8. She was disappointed, but he assured her he would definitely be there.

"So, you have a great boyfriend, we understand." Cindy's tone was a mixture of sincerity and teasing. "Carole's been telling us all about him."

Marcie glanced at Carole but she avoided her eyes. She smiled back at Cindy. "Well, you'll all have a chance to meet him soon enough. Now, what does it take for a girl to get a drink around here?"

Cindy's husband, Devin waived down a waiter as Marcie settled in.

The conversations continued. She turned to Joanne, a woman she had met several years ago and whose sense of humor she had come to enjoy. "What's going on with you?"

The two chatted about their jobs, recent trips (Marcie shared her adventures, highly censored, at Grey's Pointe) and restaurant reviews. Others around the table joined in, inquired about Marcie's job, caught up on past involvements.

Marcie was sipping her drink, engrossed in a deep discussion with Carole's date, Rob, a guy she'd never met before, when several people looked up at her. Monty leaned down and kissed her, hugging her from behind. As he leaned over her back he stared down her dress briefly and whispered in her ear, "I assume you left the rest off too," kissed her again and pulled out the chair next to her.

She blushed at his remark, unconsciously crossing her legs and thinking about his request when they spoke on her way over. She had left her panties in her glove box, not wanting to risk putting them in her purse in case she was joined in the ladies' room.

"Monty," she looked up at him and the table of faces, "everyone. Everyone. Monty." She listed off the names: "Cindy -- one of my best friends from college, and her sweet husband, Devin. Mary-Anne and Jamie -- former co-workers at Samuelson's. Carole, one of my oldest friends, and I do mean old, and her date, Rob, who I just met tonight. Joanne and Jim, although Jim's in the bathroom at the moment, and to your right Jocko and Donna, excellent poker players, both."

He nodded and smiled. "Jocko? There's a name I haven't heard in a while."

"You've heard it before?"

The two began talking and the group again returned to their respective conversations.

The night continued, the conversation moving fluidly, Monty answering questions, asking about people's work, their tastes in food and altogether fitting in smoothly.

At one point Marcie had stopped her discussion with Joanne, a stupid plot twist in a novel they had both been reading, to hear everyone talking about chickens.

"Excuse me. Devin -- did I just hear you say something about a chicken coop? And Rob, you raise chickens? And Mary-Anne were you just talking about chickens too? What's going on here?"

"It's true!" Mary-Anne practically shouted, the alcohol clearly getting to her. "We just started raising chickens! The eggs, oh, Marcie, if you haven't had fresh eggs, you don't know what you're missing."

Marcie turned to Joanne and Monty to make sure she hadn't misheard, shaking her head. "But...all of you...chickens? Did I actually hear you discussing the fine points of building coops?"

They all started in with stories about their adventures with domesticated fowl. It was obvious from their intense passion that joking about it wasn't going to get her anywhere. She leaned over to Monty and whispered something about it; he turned his head and kissed her on the cheek.

With most of the discussion centering on a topic Marcie had no experience with and even less interest in, she turned her attention to the menu, hoping to perhaps eat one of the animals as a sign of her camaraderie. The waiter came around to take more drink orders, the evening continued, and Marcie realized she was getting a little tipsy.

"Are you coming home with me tonight?" She said quietly to Monty. Apparently it wasn't quiet enough, as the entire table stopped its conversation and looked at her. "What? Did I say something?"

"Marcie," Joanne said, smiling. "'Are you going to come with me tonight,' is usually something we hear moments before it happens, not hours in advance."

The rest giggled and joked as she turned beet red with confusion. That's not what she had said! But she didn't want to come off defensive. She looked to him to see if he had heard the same thing, but his face was impossible to read. She could see he was amused, but it wasn't clear if it was because of her Freudian slip or her embarrassment or the mis-understanding by the others.

She smiled to be as good a sport as she could, but she was inwardly concerned at the possibility she had said something so different from what she had been thinking.

"It's okay," he whispered in her ear. "It's not what you said. They're just teasing you. Tell me, how do you feel being naked in front of them?" He pulled back to watch her face and she turned to him again, thinking about how close to naked she really was.

"I...I'm..." She was going to say fine, but decided she'd take a breath and really figure out how she felt. "I actually had forgotten about it." She whispered back.

"Well," he continued, "I'm turned on." He casually moved her hand down to his crotch where she felt his erection through his slacks.

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