Silver Pt. 14

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"OK, Handsome,I'll write out the card and address the envelope, and you seal it, placing a stamp on it afterward."

"Yes, mother," I sarcastically said, rolling my eyes in disbelief.

"I saw that," she giggled, "Ready?"

"Yes, dear..."

And there we sat, me and Marlene, a well oiled machine, a working, loving team as we addressed, sealed, and stamped Marlene's thank you cards to be sent out for the gifts she received for her birthday.

"This is just a warm up for next week," Marlene mentioned while scratching another name and address on the next envelope.

"What's next week?" I asked.

"We have to send out our wedding invitations," she mused.

"Jesus, it's only June; our wedding isn't til September," I griped.

"You're supposed to send them out three months before the wedding," Marlene promptly responded in satisfaction.

"What bat shit crazy person made up that rule?" I gasped.

"I don't really know," Marlene giggled, "Probably the person who used the Pony Express to send the mail!"

"I'm telling you you women are nuts!" I laughed.

"Yeah, but you men love us," she rebutted with a kiss.

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A week later, we were sitting at the same table, only more people, and a longer production line. My sister Rose, Marlene's mom, and my mother joining in on the fun of sending out a hundred wedding invitations. I sat at the end of the production line with my multiple books of stamps, doing my best to line the three it took to send the overstuffed envelope through the US mail. Four hours later,, multiple glasses of water, soda, and wine, the invitations were signed, stuffed, addressed, and stamped to completion. The women never stopped jabbering the whole time, talking about relatives, recipes, and how quickly the summer would pass while leading up to our big day!

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"Well, Handsome, that was fun," Marlene stated as she dropped onto my lap and cuddled into me on the sofa.

"Terribly," I sarcastically responded.

The ringing phone had me jerking up from my sleeping position. We had fallen asleep in each others arms on the sofa, the strenuous and tedious work of preparing our wedding invitations leading to our exhausted state. The phone continued ringing as I struggled to my feet to answer it. I hated these late night/early morning calls; it never seemed to be good news.

"Hello," I answered in a raspy voice.

"Mr. Dalton?" a female voice asked in a quivering tone.

"Yes, who is calling?"

"Betty Jean," the female voice replied in a hesitant tone, "Betty Jean Wisninski, from the club. You said I could call you if I wanted."

"Yes, Sweetheart, are you alright?" I quickly replied.

"No, I don't think I am," she answered in a growing, tearfilled voice.

"Betty Jean, what's wrong, sweetie?" I calmly asked.

"A man... A man...tried... tried...to hurt...me..." she cried.

"Where are you?" I asked, covering the phone with my hand while telling Marlene to get dressed.

"My apartment," she cried.

"We'll be there in a half hour, don't go anywhere, OK?"

"Yes," she whimpered, "Mr. Dalton?"

"Yes, what is it, Sweetie?"

"I'm scared," she tearfully admitted.

"We'll be right there," I reassured the young woman, "Everything will be alright, OK?"

"Yes sir," she said, not sounding quite so sure.

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I explained to Marlene the conversation with Betty Jean, as we dressed, threw Misty in the back of the SUV and sped off into the night.

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We arrived at Betty Jean's apartment thirty-five minutes later, rushing up the apartment steps with Misty in toe. We were met at the door by a frightened young woman who collapsed into my chest in tears.

"It's alright, Betty Jean, we're here, and you're safe now. May we come in and sit down?" Marlene softly said as she stood beside me.

The young woman shook her head, step inside, and asked us to sit on the one loveseat which occupied the room.

"Do you have a kitchen chair I could bring out?" Marlene asked.

"No, I only have the one seat right now. I was hoping to buy more after my next few weeks at the club," Betty Jean answered in an embarrassed voice.

"It's OK," I interrupted, "You girls sit, and I'll take up residence on the floor with Misty-Girl," I said as my knees creaked while falling to the unkempt carpet. Now, for those of you who are familiar with my traitoress dog, I won't have to tell you whose feet she laid by! Betty Jean hesitantly told me and Marlene what had happened at the club; how a thin, meek man became violent with her in one of the private rooms when she refused his advances.

"He grabbed my arms and threw me onto the couch. His eyes were wild as he grabbed my face while calling me a cock teaser and whore," she said in a quivering voice.

"Michael, she has bruises on her upper arms and well, basically bruising where his thumb and four fingers grasped her face under her cheeks."

"John burst through the door seconds after I screamed and ripped the maniac off of me. His womanly screeches grew after he was thrown against the wall. Two more bouncers quickly arrived and removed him as his body thrashed and screams trailed down the hall to the back of the club. I'll never be able to get the look in his eyes out of my head, never, never..." she sobbed.

Marlene told me later that morning how Misty had placed her chin on Betty Jean's lap and just stared up at her, never blinking her eyes. She went on to say how she thought my wonderful, loving dog helped settle the hysterical Betty Jean.

We invited Betty Jean to come home with us for a day or two until she recovered from her frightening experience. She was uncertain with her decision; she didn't know us at all and as far as she knew, we could have been as crazy as that man. Misty, of course, was the tipping point as she just stood, still as a statue, and continued to stare up at the young, troubled woman.

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Me and Marlene sat at the kitchen table, sipping coffee from our mugs and discussing how to approach Betty Jean when she woke from what was hopefully a good nights sleep.

"We have to let her make her own decisions, right?" Marlene asked as she placed her warm hand over mine.

"Yeah, but we can also give subtle suggestions for her to contemplate," I grinned, letting Marlene know giving sublimenal suggestions wasn't off the table.

"Like what?" she inquired with great interest.

"Maybe suggest she take a few days off until her bruises disappear," I replied over my mug.

"Do you think she'll go back?" Marlene asked in surprise.

"Yep, I know she'll go back; she's young, and the money is too good right now. However, we, or more importantly, you can talk with her and offer her what the other girls you assisted were offered."

"Do you think she'll talk with me?" she asked.

"Yep, because me and Misty will be going out for a walk when she gets up! Talk to her about last night first and other things girls are interested in; maybe bring up your experiences later, and possibly future education or a trade."

It wasn't long before Misty raised from the kitchen floor and scrambled down the hallway to the spare bedroom. Just like clockwork, she raced into the living room and skidded into the sofa before spinning her paws on the hardwood floors and scampering back. We could hear the giggling voice in the bedroom asking Misty if it were time to get up, and soonwith the faithful black Lab by her side, Betty Jean rounded the corner and entered the kitchen.

"Good morning, Sunshine," I smiled, "Ready for coffee?"

"Yes please, but I can get it," the young voice yawned.

"Mugs are in the cabinet over the microwave," Marlene said, "The sugar and creamer are over here on the table."

"Thank you, but I take mine black," she replied while pouring the hot liquid into her mug.

"Ugh, that's disgusting," I whined, crinkling my face at the thought of the bitter taste.

"To each his or should I say, her own," Marlene quipped.

"Yeah, Mr. Dalton, to each her own," Betty Jean agreed, "Right Misty?"

"Christ, now I'm out numbered three to one. By the way, please just call me Mike or Michael instead of Mr. Dalton, OK?"

"How about Mr. Mike?" she asked.

"How about I give you a kick in the butt," I grinned.

"Michael, that's not nice," Marlene scoulded.

"She started it," I argued.

"Oh my God, you're worse than a two year old," Marlene laughed.

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As planned, me and Misty left for our morning walk, leaving time for the two girls to talk. The late June morning was unusually quiet. There were no sounds of children playing, no lawn mowers drounding out the chatter of the birds, and if a Sunday morning, no traffic on the streets of our neighborhood. It made it easy for me to listen to my surroundings as we walked along the sidewalks. Not too much except for the sound of Misty's nails tapping on the cement. We stopped in our favorite coffee shop to stall a bit before we returned home to Marlene and Betty Jean.

"Have a nice walk?" Marlene asked after I released Misty from her harness.

"Yes, actually we did; the morning is unusually quiet out there. We stopped in for a cup of coffee to give you a bit more time. How did things go?"

"Not too bad," Marlene began as she laid her arms lazily over my shoulders, "We had a very nice, informative, and frank discussion about many things."

"And?" I inquired.

"And we realized how alike we are; how our father's were absent in our adolescence, mine by my father's death, and hers by her father leaving because of her mother's... lets call it, indiscressions. I talked about my life, and just listened to hers without giving any opinion."

"Very good, and?"

"And we spoke about the future, the importance of an education, and most importantly, life in general," Marlene continued as her fingers began playing with my hair.

"She's in the shower right now; I gave her some things to wear; you don't mind, do you?"

"Not at all; I'm proud of you. Should I ask where you left it?"

"We're all going to lunch before we drive her back up to her apartment, is that alright with you?"

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Misty lifted her head from the hardwood floor as Betty Jean entered the room. "Hey, Mr. Mike, how was your walk with Misty?" she asked in a more refreshed voice.

"It was nice, Sweetie; how was your shower?"

"I really needed that," she sighed, "It was nice, and even more so, to use a bathroom without the chance of a mouse or cockroach appearing."

"Oh, that sounds delightful, is that what you have to deal with at your apartment everyday?"

"Yes, pretty much, but I'm hoping to get a better place after I build up my bank account."

"So, you're going back?" I asked, not letting her know what I already did.

"Yes, but Marlene spoke to me about a lot of things, and I'm going to take her up on it, but for now, I'm going to see what happens."

"OK, sounds good to me, but remember, we are always here for you," I replied with a smile.

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The four of us, three with two legs, and the long nosed, hairy one with four, settled into Marlene's SUV and headed to our favorite diner. We spoke about how me and Marlene met, receiving several laughs from Betty Jean as I adlibbed and stretched the actual truth. Misty was also included in our conversation, and I explained our story together, how we trained together for a month before coming back to her forever home. She was fascinated with our training and inquired about the school's location in New Jersey, it's origination, and the overall scheme of the organization. We laughed about some of my more embarrassing situations as a blind person, times when I was talking about a person without realizing they were standing next to me; the several times when I had called a waitress, "sweetheart" when it was actually a waiter with a feminine voice, and the every day walking into things. Betty Jean had been with us for a week until her bruising cleared, and it was nice to hear her so relaxed in conversation and comfortable with her thoughts. Marlene brought her into Philadelphia twice that week; once to simply walk and visit the historic sights, and the second time to her office, introducing her to the girls and the rest of the staff. She spoke to Dianne and Marjie and heard of their experiences as young women and the reality of their early lives.

No longer able to fit any more food and coffee into our stomachs, it was time to get on the road and bring Betty Jean back to her apartment. The drive was somewhat subdued with the occasional whisper from Betty Jean to Misty, telling her how beautiful she was and how she would be terribly missed. As strange as it might sound, it felt like we were losing a daughter. We helped Betty Jean to her apartment, checking it out with Misty before the girls entered. We had our awkward goodbyes , leaving with hugs, kisses, and promises to keep in touch. We left her with a gift, a vacuum, and of course, typed sarcastic instructions for it's proper use, such as having to plug it into an outlet with a humorous diagram from Marlene, and the fact of having to actually push and pull it for it to pick up dirt, dust, mouse droppings, etc. Of course, we helped assemble it for her, receiving many thanks, some eye rolling, and a few tears from Betty Jean. We also gave her an old high top table with two chairs which I had been storing in my basement, and of course, groceries for the week.

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It was a long day for me, but especially for Marlene, and walking into a seemingly empty home that evening kept us in a quiet mood. Marlene joined me on the sofa after speaking to her mom on the phone.

"So, what are you thinking?" she asked with a long sigh.

"How beautiful you are," I whispered as I pulled her into me and held her.

Marlene's shoulders began to quiver as I held her. I combed my fingers through her hair, softly whispering everything would turn out for the best. She buried her face into my chest and released the anguish she felt for Betty Jean, and in a trembling voice, relived the troubles of her youth. I quietly listened, never letting my fingers stop the methodical feathering through her hair.

"Do you think she'll be alright, Michael?" she whimpered.

"That's up to her," I whispered, "But, for the past week, we gave her a glimpse of how her life could be."

Marlene simply shook her head against me as her sobbing continued.

"Why don't you go and get your jammies on, and I'll put on some hot chocolate," I suggested after she had calmed.

"Michael, it's eighty degrees out," she replied in a sniffling giggle.

"So, we haven't had a hot chocolate night in a while, and it always makes us feel so much better," I replied with a smile.

So, we did. Marlene retreated into the bedroom and I, to the kitchen. It wasn't long before the sound of Marlene's fluffy slippers dragging against the floor appeared from the hallway as she lazily made her way to the sofa where I waited with two mugs of cocoa on the end table.

"How did you make it back here before me?" she asked as she slipped onto my lap.

"The magic of the microwave," I smiled.

We sat together, hot chocolate in hand, marshmellow mustaches, the electric fireplace burning, and soft music playing on the stereo. We laid entwined together after a lengthy session of sticky, sugary love making, interrupted of course by a black, wet nose reminding us it was time for her nightly rendevue and bone!

"You are simply amazing," Marlene whispered in my ear before continuing down my neck and chest.

"I know," I groaned as her mouth engulfed my shaft.

Marlene snorted her laughter with my cock in her mouth, and playfully slapped my belly in retaliation. She sucked, slurped, and jerked me to my second and final climax of the evening before lifting me to my feet and dragging me to bed for the night.

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The summer was flying by, and we spent much of our time with wedding preparations, visiting the shore, and planning what we hoped would be the rest of a long life together. It wouldn't be long before the magical moment which me and Marlene had been anxiously waiting for to arrive. If at all possible, our love had become stronger, and our dream of a long loving life together would be a reality.

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Well, looks like we have a wedding to look forward to in the next chapter! Thank you for taking the time to read this story; your thoughts, comments, and private feedback are always appreciated.

Remember, be kind to one another, and say hello to people who pass you by. You never know, it might be the only form of kindness they receive that day!

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