The Lazy Lemon Sun Ch. 03byRehnquist©
"Let's see what you've got here now, okay?" she said, reaching up to unbutton my shirt. She leaned in and kissed me on the lips as her fingers made quick work of the buttons. After a brief freeze, my lips responded with hunger. Yet, my hands remained at my sides, my feet locked in place. The buttons undone, she pulled the shirt off and broke the kiss, standing back to look at me.
"So?" I said after a few seconds. "Too scrawny?"
Her eyes showed only astonishment, followed soon by appreciation and a further curling of her lips.
"Take off your jeans," she ordered, her eyes locked on the growing bulge behind my zipper. When I made no move to do so, she looked back to my eyes, seeing the apprehension and hesitation still clouding my face. She gave a reassuring look. "I can't wait to see the rest of you, Mark. Please, take off your jeans."
Slowly, my eyes still on her face, I undid my jeans and began pushing them down my hips, turning to the side as I did so.
"Don't hide from me," she said. "You're . . . . Jesus, Mark, you're fucking gorgeous."
I stopped and looked at her, unsure whether she was teasing or joking. Her actions seemed to answer the question. She leaned down and yanked my jeans the rest of the way to the ground. She then made quick work of my boxer shorts, grabbing them at the bottom and jerking them to the floor, as well.
I was already at full staff and involuntarily jerked my arms to cover myself.
"Don't you dare," Rebecca said, taking my hands and moving them aside. "You're . . . this is . . . ."
Without another word, she placed her hand around my shaft, softly at first, but soon tightening. Her hand was soft and smooth and a little cool against the heat of my excitement. Add to that the look on her face--hunger and excitement and anticipation all rolled into one--and it was hard to hold back. My soft moan seemed to stir her from her reverie.
"It's beautiful," she said, her voice getting huskier. "So perfect. Big, but not enormous. And with the rest of you . . . . Jesus, Mark, you're fucking ripped. Underneath all those baggy shirts and loose jeans is the body of a goddamned . . . wow."
I smiled, relieved at her assessment. That buoyed my spirits and, coupled with her own beauty, settled my mind on where this was going.
"So maybe has now become definitely?" I said, reaching down and running my fingertips over the smooth, bare skin of her shoulder.
She looked up, and those big, round brown eyes staring at me were captivating. They were so captivating, it didn't even register that she was leaning forward until, her eyes still on mine, she took me into her mouth, running her tongue up the underside of my shaft as she did so. I gasped, and my mouth opened and sucked in a breath in reaction, but my eyes stayed locked on hers as she began sliding her lips back and forth.
As her mouth picked up speed, she gradually closed her eyes and concentrated on the task at hand. Needing to touch her, to connect yet more, I reached down and teased my fingers through her thick hair and grazed them over her cheeks and soft shoulders. Anywhere, everywhere. Any part of her I could touch, I tried to touch.
"Oh my God," I said after a minute or so, not even aware it was me until she slowed and looked up with those bewitching eyes. They flashed triumph as she withdrew from me and slinked back toward the mattress. Reaching her hand up and taking mine, she pulled me down to her. When I leaned in to kiss her, she rolled and flipped me onto my back, sitting above me with her hands kneading my chest and stroking my abdomen.
"Let me taste you," I said, not wanting to return the favor nearly so much as wanting to sink my tongue in her smooth folds and explore her most intimate place.
"Later," she said, reaching back and grasping my cock, holding it straight up. She teased the head back and forth over her lips, leaning her head back and closing her eyes, then slowly lowering herself.
I laid my hands on top of her thighs, then held still as she sank inch by deliriously exquisite inch toward my pelvis. Once fully seated, her body relaxed and I felt her squeezing me as she grew accustomed to my length. I lightly stroked her thighs, letting her make the next move.
After what seemed an eternity of hot, wet, pulsating bliss, she leaned forward and again locked her eyes on mine, then lowered her face toward mine. The kisses were tentative at first--teasing and nipping--then grew more frenzied as she began to slide her hips up and down. Somewhere in there, my hands found her breasts and stroked them before tweaking and pinching her nipples. They were firm and delicious, the nipples engorged and excited beneath my fingertips. Her hands went to my chest and, breaking the kisses, she pushed herself up again as her breathing changed to short, sharp pants.
Her hips began to pick up speed, and I reached behind with one hand and stroked her ass. Soon, I had two hands on her bottom, both firmly massaging her firm cheeks. Soon, feeling my excitement beginning to peak, I was using my hands to help her pick up yet more speed as my own breathing grew ragged.
"Just a little more," she gasped after a few minutes, then sat straight and threw her head back to concentrate on the sensations coursing through her body. I felt the convulsions around my pecker, felt her thighs tighten along my pelvis, and waited her out so I could race toward my own finish.
"Oh God," she moaned as her shuddering increased. She placed her hands over mine, lifted them to her breasts, and guided my squeezing and fondling as the electrons in her body continued firing off. This, in turn, caused her hips to jerk up and down on me, working me closer and closer.
"I'm getting close," I gasped as her own body began relaxing.
In response, Rebecca evened out the pace of her hips and ground down even harder, almost slamming herself into me as my own hips thrust up faster and faster to meet her. Then, my breath nearly gone, my hands locked on top of her thighs and held her still as I made the final plunge, exploding a month's worth of pent up arousal with a loud groan.
With a sigh, I loosened my on her thighs and leaned my head back with eyes closed, trying to regain my breath.
I sensed her movement toward me, but couldn't move a bone in my suddenly worn out, wearied bones. She brushed her lips against mine and said, "No more wishy washy here. You're all-around amazing."
I opened my eyes and gave a lazy smile. "Really?"
Finding my strength in the sincerity all over her face, I reached around and hugged her tight to me, my hands stroking the warm, smooth skin of her back as we both settled down from our coupling.
"This is perfect," she mumbled.
"What?" I mumbled back, my eyes again closed as I enjoyed the contact of a warm, soft body.
"You're a snuggler." She kissed my neck. "Most men aren't much for snuggling once they're done."
I didn't respond, preferring to continue holding her naked skin against mine for awhile longer.
* * * * *
Fifteen minutes later, we sat at my little dining room table eating dinner, both of us clad only in underwear and t-shirts.
"This is really good," she said after finishing nearly half the sandwich.
"It's better when it's still warm."
"Either way, you're right. I think I'll start eating more sandwiches."
I smiled, took a bite, and chewed, all the while looking her in the eyes.
"What?" she finally said.
"Tonight. What was that all about?"
She shrugged. "You just seemed like you needed to get laid. And God knows I did."
I mulled this over. After a minute of silence, Rebecca said, "Was it okay for you?"
"That's the understatement of the century."
"My . . . I wasn't too forward?"
"Nope. Feel free to seduce me anytime the idea strikes."
"And my . . . my figure? My body? You think I'm-- "
"Pretty much perfect," I said, smiling at the memory and the fact that that body was still within easy reach.
"Pretty much?" she teased, turning the tables from our earlier conversation.
"I didn't exactly get a close up inspection of everywhere. It moved a bit quick for that."
"Like where?" She raised her eyebrow and gave a lewd grin.
"You know," I said. "Toenails and such."
She burst out laughing. "Toenails?"
"And other things."
She shook her head, and I grinned in response. We ate the rest of the meal in comfortable silence. Once done, I stood and took the plates, scraping the remains into the garbage before grabbing two more beers from the refrigerator, popping the caps, and returning to the table.
"So why me?" I said.
"Because you're cute?"
I raised my eyebrow, waiting for the longer answer.
"You're a riddle," she said, then took a drink of her beer. "You're cute, but you're quiet. It's obvious you just went through a divorce, and I'm sure you're still hurting over it. And it was more than obvious before that you're more than just a little bit insecure right now. So I decided to kill two birds with one stone: I got laid and I reassured you that you have nothing to be insecure about."
I paused, thinking it over, then nodded and took a sip of my beer. "So sort of a mercy fuck, huh?"
Her eyes narrowed, not sure if I was serious. "Your ass was like steel. Once I felt that--and once you kissed me, you're a good kisser by the way--I was pretty worked up. So no, it wasn't a mercy fuck."
She seemed serious, not just placating my insecurities or stoking my ego. Serious. A woman for once being serious with me. I wondered how long since Sandy had been really serious with me instead of merely acting out the charade.
Then another thought struck me. Sandy. Jesus Christ, I'm still married. At that, my head dropped to the table, my eyes trying to focus in on the beer label in front of me. In a small voice, I said, "I'm not divorced yet."
I sensed her tighten across from me. "But you said . . . at the bar . . . you're not wearing a ring and-- "
"When y'all asked if I was divorced, I said, 'Something like that.' Well, I guess according to the great State of Tennessee, I'm not divorced. Still married, such as it is. I ran away, that part was true, but we haven't even started the divorce process."
Her face was initially a mask of confusion that quickly went through stunned then realization before settling on anger.
"So what's going on," Rebecca said with a tinge of sadness.
I took a deep breath, then looked at the wall over Rebecca's shoulder. When I spoke, it was flat and without emotion. I was trying to not have to live it all out again--trying to soften the impact that I knew verbalizing this for the first time would have on me.
"Sandy; that's her name. I've been in love with her since I don't know when. Seventh, eighth grade at least. But she was always crazy for my brother. They dated the whole time, and I was always off in the distance. She liked me well enough, I suppose. You know, in a brotherly, friendly sort of way, but her real passion was Stevie, my brother." I gave a bitter snort. "Truth be told, she probably barely knew I existed."
"So why didn't she marry him? Your brother?"
"He died. A little over eight years ago, he was killed in a car crash."
I shot her a quick look. Lips pressed tightly together, eyes narrow, arms folded across each other on the table as she leaned toward me. She looked every inch the attorney getting set for a brutal cross-examination.
"So they pushed us together," I continued, focusing back on the wall. "Year and a half later, our parents decided me and Sandy would make a beautiful couple."
"Encouraged or pushed?"
"Set it all up."
"You mean an arranged thing?" Rebecca said. When I looked at her, she was beginning to lean back in surprise. "Why would they do that?"
"Votes," Mark said. "Sandy's dad was running for office, and it was great political theater."
"But your parents. Why would they go along with it?"
"Pretty much the same reason, I suppose. That and get the payoff of such a big favor to the Governor, of course. He'd owe Daddy, Sandy's dad would."
"And you knew this and played along with it?"
I looked at her and held it this time, fixing her with a stare. "I found out the weekend before I left."
Her face still showed some doubt about that. "You never even suspected anything?"
"Like this? Not a chance. I mean, how the fuck you do that to your own son? Without telling him?"
"How'd you find out?"
"I just did, okay?"
"So you're sure it's true?"
"You didn't figure it out wrong?"
"I overheard a conversation I shouldn't have. Her parents and mine, okay? They spelled it all out in all its glory."
"And you're sure you didn't just misunderstand or something?"
"Jesus, Rebecca," I said, "I'm a lawyer, too, y'know? Give me some credit for an ounce of brains."
"Sorry," she muttered, "it's all just so . . . so . . . well, like India or something. I mean, an arranged marriage?"
I shook my head. "Only partially arranged. She agreed to it knowing full well what the deal was. All they had to do to get me to go along was offer up my dream wife. My dream wife since I was a kid. I fell for the whole thing hook, line, and sinker."
"Did she know you didn't know?"
I smiled. "Very perceptive. And that's the million dollar question, too."
Rebecca tilted her head. "So you don't know?"
I shook my head. "And I'm still trying to figure out why it should matter."
She pursed her lips at that one, then said, "There's a big difference, I guess. One way, you were both duped. The other way, only you were duped and she was in on it."
I shrugged. "But at the end of the day, it still wasn't a real marriage. Not to her at least."
"But it was to you, right?"
"Yeah. Right up until I found out the truth."
She sat back, eyeing me as whatever was in her mind worked itself out.
"So you see what I meant?" I said. "It's not that I'm divorced. It's more like I wasn't really married."
"But you loved her."
"But she didn't love me. To her, I was a fuck buddy for six years."
"You sure? You sure that's all you were?"
I shrugged. "No, I'm not really sure. But I'm also still not sure it really makes much of a difference."
"Things she said. At the time, I thought it was just this delightfully quirky sense of humor. Looking back on it, it's all different now. Now the things she said can be interpreted a whole lot of different ways. Most of them bad."
"So once you overheard them, you just booked?"
"No," I said, my eyes going back to that spot on the wall. "It took me two days."
"Say it," she demanded. "Something else happened in those two days. What was it? You find out she cheated on you?"
"No, though I'm pretty sure now that she had at least one affair during our marriage. I only know the when--or strongly suspect, at least--but I don't know the who or for precisely how long. Or if there have been others."
"Then what was it?"
"My dad," I said, turning back and putting my hands across the table toward her. She hesitated, then slid her hands over mine. "I found out that I have a brother. Or at least a little boy Dad's campaign committee is paying child support on and trying to hide it."
Her eyes went wide.
I nodded. "That's right. And he's right here. In Grant City. His name's Schuyler, and he looks almost exactly like me when I was his age."
"And the mother?"
"Used to work for my dad. As an aide or his secretary or something."
"So you came here to find him?"
"To do what?"
"Don't know yet."
She pondered this, her eyes looking through me as her fingertips started drumming the table.
"Can't say anything," she said, more to herself than to me. "Expose it and the little boy gets hit in the shitstorm. He doesn't need that; no kid does. And probably not her, either."
I just watched, staying quiet as she gave voice to what I'd long ago concluded. As much as I'd have like to have destroyed my father's career with such a tawdry scandal, I didn't want to hurt any innocents, either.
"I guess the real question is whether your mother knows," she continued after a minute.
Her eyes twitched, then focused on mine. "You sure?"
"Pretty sure. I'd have gotten even a whiff, I'm sure. Even Mom's not that good at hiding something like this. She'd have leashed him, if not outright nutted him."
"So there's your leverage," Rebecca said. "What do you want him to do? What do you want to see happen?"
I shrugged. "I think I just want to get to know my little brother. I don't need revenge. Not on anyone. I need to stay the hell away from them--from all of them--and just try to start over somewhere else away from everyone."
"Everyone?" she said, a twinkle back in her eye. But it was a soft twinkle.
"I'm sorry," I said, lowering my face. "I wasn't . . . I didn't really . . . ."
She reached over and lifted my chin. "I may have come on a bit strong. I mean, I'm not bragging or anything, but your are a guy and . . . well, I was buck naked and on my knees and you were in my mouth all pretty much before you really had much of a chance to say anything, right? Like I can expect you to realistically say, 'Stop. I need to tell you this long convoluted story about how I'm sorta married but not really.' I mean, it's not like . . . well, you'd pretty much have to be either gay as hell or stone cold dead to have stopped it all, right?"
"Still," I said.
"Still," she agreed. "I don't make a habit outta screwing married guys. You're only the third, actually, and the first two were . . . well, one was . . . let's just say only one of them was where he was using me to cheat."
"I didn't mean to-- "
"No," she interrupted. "This isn't like that. This is . . . I don't know. I know the one made me feel cheap. Used. Like a piece of meat. Not during, but afterwards. This one doesn't feel like that."
"It's not. I swear. I just . . . I guess I don't really consider myself married. She's like an old flame now. Sandy, that is. Like a past girlfriend. But it's not like we were ever really married, you know?"
She gave a sad smile. "No, I don't know. And I'm sorry as hell that you do. Because what they all did to you is about the worst goddamned thing I've ever heard, which is sayin' quite a bit."
"So you're just gonna stay up here and not do anything?" Rebecca asked after a moment.
"What d'ya mean?"
"I mean you need to move off dead center. You need to act. Running up here was a reaction. Now you need to be proactive."
"A divorce, for starters."
I hesitated, then said, "But right now it'd have to be back in Memphis. Back in her neck of the woods. I haven't lived here long enough."
She smiled. "Wrong, Mark. This is a game, man. Like poker. You file here, what's she gonna do? Ask that it be moved down there? You really think her daddy's gonna let her do that? Right in front of all those Memphis reporters?" She shook her head. "I don't think so."
I smiled for the first time in a while. "There's more," I said. "Her daddy's making a run at the White House."
"So he'll definitely try to keep this all as quiet as possible."
I felt my muscles relax and sank into my seat. I didn't realize I was so tense until that happened, and now I was loose and languid, genuinely pleased for the first time in ages. Even Rebecca's next question couldn't stop my relief at having a plan.
"Just one thing left to figure out," she said.
"What're you gonna do if she contests it. You really ready to spill all the beans? Ruin not just her father's career, but maybe your own father's as well?"
I smiled. "She won't contest it. The threat alone will be enough to get her to back off. She'll do whatever her daddy tells her to do."
"You sure?" Rebecca asked.