The Newlin's, Marcie & Mark Pt. 21A

Part 21-A

Mark and Marcie Meet - Scotia Wants BDSM

One month later... A cocktail party at developer, Hughie Jennings home, Barry Borelli, a City Councilmen and Attorney was about to explain his marriage to Mark.

"Try this scotch, Newlin. It's one of the best available; single malt, eighteen years old and I guarantee it will go down as smooth as silk."

Mark glanced at Borelli's wife Scotia, who had a glass of white wine, and then accepted the crystal glass and took a sip.

"Mmmm, you weren't kidding. It does feel like silk."

Borelli fiddled with his own scotch as he formulated for the tenth time what he needed to say to his wife's latest lover. To his surprise Mark took advantage of his hesitation and jumped in. "So you've both had affairs then?"

Borelli nodded and Scotia's knuckles turned white, revealing her tension as Mark continued, saying: "Did you think that they would somehow cancel each other out leaving your marriage unaffected?"

He was asking out of curiosity and not being judgmental. After all he was screwing Mrs. Borelli and that appeared to be the reason for this meeting.

The couple sat in two separate chairs thereby forming a triangle of sorts. The Borelli's had both avoided the cozier sofa leaving that to Mark. Obviously they didn't want to sit beside one another during this confrontation or meeting as it had been called earlier.

"He started things by fucking his secretary," Scotia huffed. There was bitterness in her voice, and Mark felt her use of the 'f' word assured him she was still angry about it.

"So you felt that you'd get even... is that it?"

"Hey, whose side are you on here?" Scotia spat out angrily.

"It's a reasonable question, Scotia," Barry Borelli said evenly. "It seems, your Mark is attempting to find an even ground from which to defend himself."

Mark smiled at him and said, "I know not to argue with an attorney, Mr. Borelli, and I won't."

"Call me Barry; we're at a social gathering, we're all civilized here, Mark. He glanced at his wife who flushed, and that surprised Mark.

Choosing her words carefully, Scotia said, "Yes, I selected his partner as my lover."

"She thought it would be a kind of revenge fuck, only it wasn't, was it dear?" Borelli didn't wait for his wife to respond, but plunged ahead, saying: "Newlin, you've known Scotia about a month now. I knew she was pretty wild when we first met, it was one of the things I found so attractive about her. Then there was her great beauty and the fact that she seemed to like me. I still find it hard to believe we ended up together to tell the truth. But I love her very much and don't want to lose her. I'm confident she feels the same. The problem is that after ten years we have a pretty vanilla sex life."

"No, you have a vanilla sex life, Barry, not me," Scotia said her voice filled with scorn.

"Yeah... well that's neither here nor there. What I'm getting at is she's got a kinky side. For example, our wedding night..."

"You're not rehashing that again are you, Barry?"

"He should hear this, Scotia."

"Oh go on, get it off your chest if you must. Mark this is all ancient history," Scotia said.

"I don't think I need to tell you how beautiful she was that night. She's still as beautiful as ever," Borelli paused as he looked at her, and then continued. "By the time the reception was over I was crazy with wanting her. We had never consummated the act you see. Seven months I'd courted her and nary a look at her nude body. Hard to believe isn't it? Especially in view of..."

"Let it be, Barry!" Scotia snapped.

Mark could only nod. He believed him. Seven months of dating and not seeing her nude... well there must have been a reason, but what was it?

Borelli sighed and continued. "Somehow, we made it to our hotel room. I carried her across the threshold and placed her on the bed then fell upon her and covered her face with kisses. But when I began to unbutton the wedding dress she stopped me.

"No, please," she said, "I want to undress you first. You'll probably never see me in my wedding dress again... I want it to be a sight you'll remember forever!"

"I caved; let her take my shirt off, only to have her torment me further by scratching my chest and nipples with her fingernails of one hand and rubbing my hardon with the other. Eventually, and I mean it took her quite a while to get to this point, she knelt at the side of the bed still fully dressed and pulled the veil over her face giving her an angelic look. Only then did she free my cock from its confining underwear."

Borelli looked at Mark as he uttered his next words. "She used both hands to hold it. I'm not small by any means, Newlin. Then she began kissing and licking it through the veil. I'd had a few blowjobs before that, but they paled at this... this rendering."

Mark's throat had gone dry and he took a gulp of his scotch, as he tried to recall the last time he'd been this horny. He glanced around the room. There must have been thirty or forty people talking and laughing. A petite blonde was touching a man Mark knew to be a judge on his inner thigh, not caring if anyone noticed.

Borelli's voice reached Mark's ears again: "...finally Scotia raised the veil slightly and pulled it over my cock and drew me into her mouth. I can see the bulge in your slacks so I won't belabor the point. I came in a fusillade that covered more than half her face. The veil itself was soaked with my seed, and she began to laugh, not at me, per se, but at the amount of cum I'd released, finally saying, 'If I'd known there was that much stored up in those little ball sacs I'd have done that a lot sooner, Darling.'"

"Is this sordid story going to end soon, Borelli?"

Borelli laughed and pointed a finger at Mark. "She wasn't finished playing with me, Newlin. While I lay there panting, she peeled off those silken panties and hiked the wedding dress up around her waist then lowered herself down onto me. She was so fucking wet I slid right in."

Mark knew that feeling well enough. Scotia was a very excitable woman. He closed his eyes and listened to Borelli finish his tale of their wedding night.

"I was positive I'd lose it in seconds after her velvet sheath closed around me. But I didn't. She knew enough to grasp my dick around the base and that held me off for a while longer. I watched Scotia in that white wedding dress, bouncing up and down on me. She told me later she'd cum a half dozen times before I finally exploded into her."

Mark stared at Barry his mouth slightly agape, Scotia tried to act nonchalant about her husband's tale of their wedding night.

"What I'm getting at is Scotia's got this kinky side. At least she's told me about some kinky escapades and if I'm to believe them I know that it won't be long before she meets someone who will hurt her. Seriously hurt her. I don't want that happening, Newlin."

Borelli's eyes reflected the sadness inside him and his body language the determination to crush anyone actually hurting his wife.

Scotia stood up and raised her voice. "I like being hurt, Barry. That's the whole fucking point. Why can't you get that through your head?"

Barry had used this argument before with favorable results for him, not Scotia. His prominent

position as City Councilman had that effect on most men.

Mark placed his crystal glass carefully on the coffee table in front of his knees and said, "For crying out loud, Barry, you know all about Scotia's affairs. As far as I can tell she's told you all about them. Probably more than you want to hear; but she's never tried to deceive you. She needs... no, she wants more out of her sex life than you provide. As I understand it, and please correct me if I'm wrong, she's talked this over with you before actually doing something about it. You didn't object. And now I'm what..."

He turned to face Scotia, "... number three or four?"

"Seven," Scotia replied, looking down at her shoes, unable to meet his eyes.

"Seven," Mark repeated and gave her a look that frightened her.

"Mark, please!" Scotia cried out thinking he was about to leave.

"Shut up, Scotia, if I want to hear from you I'll ask you a question," Mark snarled, really angry at Borelli but lashing out at his wife.

Scotia's hand went to her mouth in stunned surprise, and felt a sudden thrill permeate her loins.

Barry's jaw dropped. His gambit at forcing Mark out of their lives wasn't working. He quickly attempted another avenue of persuasion, saying: "If... if you stay with her, she... she'll ruin your life. It's happened before."

"That's a lie!" Scotia said calmly as she watched the two men sparing over her and climaxed.

"I have some kinkiness, too Borelli. I don't mind playing dominant roles. I don't want to take your wife away from you. But she wants to play and I'm willing to play with her. What you do about it, well I can't stop you from filing for divorce, or trying to hurt me by voiding any city contracts I may enter into.

He paused and took a sip of his scotch.

"I haven't said anything to Scotia about this--I'd rather it be you I talk too. But she's going to find someone to quench her desires and it might as well be me. I don't have any STD's, I'm not a married man, I have decided to settle here in town and I'm not going to take her away from you. That's not to say she won't leave you at some point; but I can promise you I won't be telling her to do it. I'm not marrying her. She's not what I'd consider marital worthy."

"So you just want to fuck her?" Barry sputtered.

"We'll entertain each other for a time, and eventually she'll tire of me and move on to someone else. The key thing is Scotia will probably remain married to you if you'll have her."

The judge took the petite blonde around the waist and they began to dance, closely. In other words, life went on around them as Borelli pondered Mark's words.

Ever the politician, Borelli saw it as a logical and solidly potential solution, although not one he preferred. Again, politically it was viable, he wasn't getting what he wanted, but he wasn't going to lose his wife either.

"Look, Barry, I realize this whole thing is a tremendous blow to your ego. Yet you went ahead with several affairs, possibly before Scotia began fooling around. You have the best of both worlds open to you; allowing Scotia to find sexual satisfaction with other men while you can continue with your affairs. Maybe it would just be sex for you. But for your wife it would be a means to satisfying her needs. And it's you that she'll be coming home too, not that other guy."

Barry threw his hands up in a sign of surrender. Scotia's face lit up as a huge smile appeared.

"Do you really think this is the only way, Scotia?"

His wife nodded affirmatively.

Barry nodded as well, adding, "Well, Scotia knows you and she likes you. I know she's going to find an outlet for her desires one way or the other. I don't believe she wants out of our marriage, just an outlet for something I can't give her. I think if she spends the occasional night with you I don't lose her. So I concur as well. I will stand down. Scotia, do what you want."

"If you'll excuse me," Mark said, "I've got to see a man about a horse," and he left to relieve himself in the nearest bathroom.

Scotia was elated. She had won, and so easily it had hardly been a battle at all. She calmly told her husband she planned on spending the night with her lover and would return home the following afternoon. Barry sighed and left the room to go outside and have a cigarette.

_______________________

Mark encountered his neighbors, Jon and Mary Kaye Huntsman standing near the bar watching the various players in the room.

Mark was approaching them when he realized they were staring at a lithe brunette in a silvery dress and Mary Kaye seemed completely enthralled with her.

"Getting an eyeful?" A baritone voice boomed from behind him.

Mark turned and saw Keith McDaniel, his good friend and business acquaintance. Forcing himself to look away from Huntsman and their dark-haired vision, Mark turned to him and said, "Hey, Keith, who's the girl in the silver dress?"

"You mean the frumpy one with the mousy hair and wide ass? I can get you her number if you like."

"Fuck you, Keith. You know who I'm talking about."

"Yeah I do, but I also see who is drooling over her and I don't want to fuck up a $500,000 real estate deal."

"Jon Huntsman carries some serious weight around town, huh?"

"He does. By the way, her name's Marcie Dolan and she plays most nights at Coyne's Steakhouse, you know over by Bednarik Crossing."

"No kidding? I'll have to check her out."

"Yeah, well good luck buddy. She's a really good looking babe.

"Have you?" Mark inquired, meaning had Keith been intimate with her.

"No, I haven't had the opportunity to sway her with my charming ten inch dick as yet."

"Ah, Casanova, I'm so glad I know you."

Then as an afterthought Keith added, "Probably has to fight the guys off every night."

"I doubt it, Keith. Coyne's is a dinner date kind of place. Guys don't hit on the piano player when they're with a date that might be their wife, or maybe mistress you know?"

"You may have something there, Mark. Maybe I'll drop in there one night myself. By the by, buddy, I saw you talking with the Borelli's. Have you got them in your corner for any future deals? I'm asking out of selfishness as you might provide me with some advance information on potential sites and I might arrange to buy them and sell them back to the city at a small profit. You'd get a percentage of course."

This was the first time anyone had approached Mark with such an offer, and the fact that it came from a friend left him speechless. When he found his voice, he said: "Nothing firm, but I'll keep you in mind should something develop, Keith."

"Well I'm going to give Madison a call myself," Keith said. "She's really great in the sack."

"Yes, she is, and Gabby's her equal in all respects," Mark added, knowing full well it was likely Gabby would be there as well when Keith arrived. He didn't want Keith saying that he wasn't interested in either girl, for they were both great in the sack, as Keith had just stated, and one never knew when one of them might come in handy on a cold, rainy night; or any lonely night, for that matter.

"I have some unfinished business here," Mark said. "I'll see you around, Keith," Mark said good-naturedly as he turned to see if Scotia was still with her husband.

Barry wasn't there but Scotia gave him a little wave that told him to approach her and he did.

"Barry's met some young thing looking to improve her position in life. He's sure he can do that by positioning her under him in one of the bedrooms upstairs." She followed that with a husky, sexual laugh and touched Mark's chest with her right hand. "He didn't take long to show his interest in me isn't all that great, did he?"

A waiter was about to pass by and Scotia stopped him to ask for a Chivas on the rocks, surprising Mark as he'd only known her to drink wine, although he hadn't spent all that much time with her other than fucking her.

Once the scotch had been delivered she didn't hesitate, but started right in "Mark, I love Barry a lot. I don't want to leave him or lose him. But..." she hesitated, took a drink of her scotch before going on. "He's given us the green light. He now thinks it will save the marriage. I could have told him that, in fact I had, but he needed to hear you say you weren't running off with me to Majorca or Paris."

Looking him straight in the eye she continued, "Let me tell you a little about me before I married Barry. I used to be pretty wild. I went with some fairly outrageous guys. You know the 'bad boy' type. A couple of them were into some pretty kinky stuff, certainly rough sex. At first I told myself I put up with it because I really liked the guy, even though it was a couple of different guys. I finally had to admit to myself that I liked the sex that way as much as they did."

She took another drink of scotch and set the glass down. This time she was looking down at the glass, not at me. She spoke softly, "I miss it".

Mark didn't speak until she looked up. "Scotia, I've been called the 'bad boy' type a few times myself. I enjoy some pretty rough stuff too. I can tell you from personal experience that there are plenty of women in the world just like you. It doesn't make you a bad person in any way. If no one gets hurt and everyone enjoys it, there's nothing wrong with it. The problem is you have a husband who is never going to give you that." Mark finally paused.

She smiled at him "You know, for someone who tries to come across as a sexist bastard most of the time, you can be pretty understanding and insightful".

Mark laughed at that, "Don't kid yourself, I am a bastard. But that doesn't make me a bad person."

They both laughed. Scotia looked away for a moment then said, "But there's more, Mark."

"Of course there is," he replied. "You're into pain as well. Am I right?"

Her eyes got a little wide for a second. "Yes, how did you...?"

"They seem to go hand in hand, Scotia."

Her eyes got glassy and Mark saw that she'd become aroused thinking about the possibilities. Her nipples had hardened and pointed through her silken dress, and her breath was coming in short little gasps.

"So you'll play rough with me, baby?" she asked rather furtively.

"Maybe," was his answer to that, and then he added, "But first you and Barry need to be certain about it. Why not have Barry call me in the morning, I need to talk to him alone."

"But what about right now? I mean, we have tonight..."

"We can start this weekend. Have him call me."

"Yes Master," she said with a smirk before turning and walking away from him.

Mark meandered around the room talking to some and mentally kicking himself for not waltzing Scotia home with him and fucking her silly until he realized he was standing next to the piano player, Marcie Dolan.

"Hello," he said. "I've enjoyed your playing tonight."

"You did? I didn't think you noticed. You were with the Borelli's most of the time; particularly Mrs. Borelli."

Mark smiled and took a moment before replying. It was as if he understood her and what made her tick. He stared at her and knew where she itched and how she needed to be scratched. And she knew it too. She'd known it the moment she laid eyes on him.

"We have a thing going on," he said as his eyes devoured her body.

"Oh... like Me and Mrs. Jones?" a blatant referral to an old song about marital infidelity.

He laughed, "Got me. Please don't spread it around."

"Mum's the word," she laughed with him. "So who are you? I'm Marcie, Marcie Dolan."

"Mark, Mark Newlin. I'm relatively new in town. I'm an architect. You do play beautifully. I mean it."

"Thank you, I studied music at college, played with several groups and did some backup playing for what became hit records, but didn't get any credit for it. It did pay well, but being on the record would have bought me a house, maybe more."

She took a deep breath, sighed then said, "That's how it goes. So here I am playing at a party."

"You met me," Mark said with a smile.

"I did, didn't I?" Marcie said and returned the smile.

"This thing is wrapping up. Do you need a ride home?" Mark inquired.

"Aren't you with that Borelli woman?"

"I sent her home to be with her husband."

"You're serious?"

"I am. Mrs. Borelli is somewhat of a project."

"That's a very interesting way of framing the fact that you're fucking her with her husband's permission."

"Thank you, and while it may be true I'd appreciate your keeping it to yourself."

"I'm a woman and you expect that of me?"

"You're a musician. They know how to keep their mouths shut."