No Accounting For Chaos Ch. 11

There was no way she was going to work. She called in sick – something she hardly ever did – but after last night there was no way. In spite of hardly sleeping at all, she was running off the energy from her 'trip to the river.'

Not wanting to disturb him (he never seemed to be bothered by this burst of energy, aside from his near constant erection) she sat in the kitchen sipping tea and reading. Even in the darkest part of the morning when she would usually be filled with dread about her situation, the white light filled her with optimism and calm.

Finally, just as he was getting up she realized how exhausted she truly was. Leaving a message with her admin, she went to her bedroom.

She joined him in the bed as he sat up, the sheets falling away from his chest. She leaned over and kissed his nipples, letting her tongue rub against them.

"Mmmm, that's nice." His hands stroked her hair. "Couldn't sleep?"

"No fucking way," she sat back up, pulling the sheets away from him to expose his cock. "I don't know how you do it." She cupped the flaccid member in her hands, focusing on his sac and pubic hair. It was so beautiful. She smiled as it stirred from her attentions.

"You hit it pretty hard, didn't you." He lifted her nightgown to see her better, fondling her breasts and pinching her nipples lightly.

"Mmm hmmm." She loved what he was doing.

"It was pretty difficult those first few months at the ashram. Thankfully there wasn't a lot for us to do during the day – the older novitiates were responsible for most of the duties while the newbies were getting trained. I remember those first few times – very intense." He kept stroking her lightly. "What was it like?"

She tried to explain the different feelings, the tastes and the hallucinations, but it was like explaining a dream – more was lost in translation than she could convey. Meanwhile, his fingers had started to heat her up again; the fires rekindling. She didn't have to go anywhere, but she knew he did. "Do you really want to keep going with this, or should we stop?" She pointed to his rapidly stiffening penis to make her point.

"It sounds like you made another breakthrough last night," he continued, ignoring both her question and her hesitancy. "Is the 'white fire' still active or has it quieted?"

She nodded, implying it was very much still going on.

"Tantric doesn't mean withholding pleasure – you know that, right?" He waited for her to nod. She was completely naked now, sitting up against the head board, her legs open to his fingers, her nipples erect. "I've said this before, but maybe you have a better appreciation for its true meaning, given your experience last night:. It truly means 'weave' as in the total weaving of life. Sometimes you have to get outside of the tapestry to really appreciate it. It's not something you should make a habit of, but it definitely is important to do every once in a while."

She knew exactly what he was talking about. The 'rising above' the ocean, the clearing of the white fog – it all felt as if she had broken free of something only to be consumed or...infused...in something much larger. But it was frightening at the same time – to lose one's self. And it was exhausting even as it was exhilarating.

In spite of her growing arousal, she couldn't stifle a yawn and she felt pressure from her bladder – all of the tea she had drunk was trying to find a way out. As intense as the prior evening's experience in the elevator had been, she wasn't interested in repeating it this morning.

"You're not going in?" He pulled back, bringing his fingers to her mouth for her to lick them off.

She shook her head, sucking her musk off of them.

"What about your car?"

Shit! She had forgotten about it. Her heart jumped a little at forgetting, the injection of adrenaline woke her up slightly. Several alternatives drifted up: call a cab, call Carole what day was it? Was she working today? Take a bus, she wasn't sure what line it was near; Ride her bike – it was only a few miles...ride her bike.

"S'all right. I think I can get to it later today. No, I'm too tired – I didn't sleep at all," her yawn underscoring her words.

She followed him into the bathroom and waited, watching him pee. As he got in the shower, she sat on the toilet musing on the last 12 hours. It seemed every time they got together the sex was more intense than the last time. As she wiped herself she felt a little tender and bruised. He must really have been slamming into me.

She stepped into the shower with him, even though she was just going to go back to bed. She just wanted to be close to him, to feel his skin against hers and let the warm water flow over her.

He was covered with soap; his skin was silky and smooth, sliding easily against hers. She dropped her hands to feel his tight ass cheeks, so firm and soft. He had fine hairs just below the waistline she liked to play her fingers over. She felt the lather flowing through her fingers as she rubbed her hands up his spine and down into his crack.

She dropped to her knees, the water spraying into her face, and took his member into her mouth. She wanted to give him a nice sending off to work present.

"You don't have to do this," he said, his hands holding her face.

She mumbled her agreement and continued to suck him into her, trying to get him as stiff as possible, to fuck her throat again. The water drummed on her head as she started pistoning up and down on him.

"You know," he said with a philosophical tone, "I've had more sex with you in the past few months than I've had in the years before?"

She felt herself start to moisten at the idea she had been the source of his pleasure for so long and continued her efforts. She knew from all that experience no matter what she did here, he wouldn't release into her, but the thought occurred to her that maybe just increasing the number of times he'd done it would make it more difficult for him to resist cumming.

In a few moments she felt him begin to stiffen again, but was not rewarded with anything out of the ordinary. Not even the cinnamon smell she'd pulled from him the night before.

She got up, smiled at him and sucked his tongue into her mouth, pressing her lips against his, before she exited the shower with a light giggle.

"Hey," he said, sticking his head out after her. "You're not busy tomorrow night by any chance, are you?"

She dried herself off and laughed. Right. Busy. Like I've got anything else to do in my life. The pile of laundry was only one of the things marking how little time she'd spent on her own lately. "No. Nothing I can think of."

"Good," he said from under the water. "I'd like to take you out on a special date."

* - * - * - * - *

Champs Elysees. She had only read about it the week before. There was no way they were sitting in the restaurant. How could he get a reservation? She mentally kicked herself. Of course he could get a reservation. He probably owns the place.

Muted colors – a soft pastel coral colored theme. White tablecloths, crystal glittering, full place settings. The staff ready but not obsequious. She sat quietly, looking over the menu. The chef, she remembered reading, a protégé of one of the leading lights. She tried to remember the article...which was the signature dish. It didn't matter, it all looked fantastic.

He looked at her, his eyes black and glittering in the candlelight. She looked back down from the intensity of his gaze. The sommelier poured the wine, the waiter came for their orders. It was all a dream. Her life had been turned upside down in a matter of months. What am I doing here? She marveled at her fortune; at this man who cared so deeply for her; for who she truly was.

"Marcie."

His voice broke into her thoughts. She put down the wine glass and looked at him.

"I've come to a decision, and I need to ask you something."

Oh god. No! yes. Yes Yes. Yes, It's not possible. He's not going to say it! Her mind raced at the thought of what he was going to say. It couldn't be happening. Of course! Of course I'll say yes! She kept her face calm, raising an eyebrow to signal her question.

He was reaching into his coat pocket. "While I haven't said it to you very often, over the past two months, I've come to realize that I am deeply in love with you." He held open a black box, the lavender velvet inside holding a glittering white ring. "I am going to ask you one of the most difficult questions of your life..." He held up a hand to stop her from interrupting him. "...and if you don't think that's true than you really don't know what I am about to ask of you. Marcie. Will you become my wife?"

He took out the ring and held open his hand, asking for hers.

Fuck! Yes! Of course! She gave him her hand.

"Before you answer, I need you to think carefully about it. In fact, I would like you to hear me out, and sleep on it before you tell me your answer. I do not want you to make this decision lightly. No....please," he slipped the ring on her finger and stopped her again, "I mean it. I have a few things to say and I really don't want you to tell me your answer until I know you've had a chance to consider it."

What could he be thinking? Of course I'll say yes!

"You know I will be able to take care of all of your material needs. That is not a question. But life with me will be very difficult. I know," he smiled bashfully at her, "you think I'm easy, but the fact is, we've been courting and life is always easy when couples court. There is a lot you don't know about me that I need you to know before you make your decision.

"You know I am very wealthy...and you know that money means very little to me. My lawyers will insist on a ton of paperwork – it's just the nature of having so much – they are paid to protect me. You should consider getting an attorney yourself, given..."

She had stopped paying attention, focusing instead on the ring. It fit her almost perfectly. No diamonds, just a simple band. And then she looked more closely at it and saw it had a complicated and subtle weave of three different colored metals. Damask. Like an antique Arabian sword.

Married. He's asked me to marry him! All of the past two months collapsed like a telescope into a flurry of dinners, new clothes, resorts and sex. Lots of incredible sex. And the Tantra. It meant he was confident she would be prepared enough...to take his semen....to have his child!

She sat back stunned at the conclusion.

"Are you okay?" He was smiling.

"Yes. I mean, 'yes,' I'm okay. I'm more than okay. Monty!" She started to cry, as much from the pure emotion of his asking her as from the reality, or unreality, of the situation suddenly overwhelming her. A thousand thoughts sped through her mind: who would be her bridesmaids? She could quit her job! Paperwork, what paperwork? Lawyer, was Cindy's Dave an attorney? Her condo. She could sell her condo. Pre-nup. He'd want a pre-nup, hence the lawyer. Carole, maid of honor...and so on.

He motioned to a waiter. "Would you like to drink on it?"

She saw the champagne in the cooler, and realized he must have planned this fairly far in advance. The ring – it wasn't something you found in a store. The ring!

"Monty. It's so beautiful. I've never seen anything so intricate." She rubbed it between her thumb and forefinger, feeling the engraved and raised patterns, like a miniature landscape painting wrapped around the band.

"So, please. I would of course be devastated if you said 'no', but I really don't want you to jump into it either."

"But, why? Why shouldn't I just say yes? Yes! Of course I will marry you. Give me three reasons I shouldn't?" What she wanted to do was jump out of her chair, kneel in front of him and pledge her unwavering allegiance to him, but a) it was one of the fanciest restaurants in town, b) she didn't want to give up all of her dignity and independence before they'd even tied the knot and c) she was horrified at the image of her bound and naked kneeling before him...horrified and aroused. His response snapped her back.

"Three? I could give you three hundred. Okay, let's see." He was still smiling but she could tell he was taking her seriously. He raised his glass. "But first, regardless of your answer, here's to us." They drank a toast. "Okay, three reasons. 1) I am never at home, I mean, really never. 2) I move in circles you might find extremely uncomfortable. 3) I am deeply opinionated and uncompromising. Should I go on?"

She found all of his statements to be either describing someone she hadn't dated for almost three months, or completely inaccurate. "Hold on. Never home? You and I have seen each other practically every other night for two months! If that's never home, I'm okay with that. Circles. It's funny, I was just thinking about my 'circle of friends' the other night at the restaurant. I wasn't feeling like I had much in common with them...chickens! On the other hand, if by circles you mean the folks we spent some time with last weekend at Grey's Pointe, I could probably get used to some of those folks. Antoinelle was quite nice." She flashed him a wicked smile in case he had forgotten Antoinelle's and her afternoon together. "And, what, deeply opinionated and uncompromising. Hmmm....I haven't found your opinions to be so disturbing or difficult to live with. Nope. Not good enough."

She swallowed the remainder of her glass and set it down. The waiter immediately poured her another glass. She stared at Monty looking deep into his eyes. Black...dark dark brown at least and she could see the heat in them. His face was lit up; it was obvious to her he wanted her to say yes. On reflection, she knew he would handle whatever she answered, but she couldn't for the life of her figure out why she should say no.

"Hmmm. The other night. In the elevator." He waited for her embarrassment to pass. "You like that right? Wait. Wrong question. I liked that. A lot. And Grey's Pointe. I liked that a lot too. I liked taking you to places you haven't been. And I don't just mean fancy resorts." He watched her until she nodded. "I would like to keep exploring new territories with you. I want to marry you to explore places we've never been together...and it may be too much to ask." He took a sip of wine and let the ideas sink in. "Well, naturally I wouldn't have proposed if I thought you would refuse, but I really want you to sleep on it. This will be..." He paused, not sure what to say that wouldn't be insulting. "...huge."

She smiled at her situation. "You're not that big." She hid her face and reactions to his latest challenge behind the champagne glass.

* - * - * - *

It was while sitting in Patti's office Marcie realized a full month had flown by. The flurry of events, decisions and changes made her stop talking for a moment and reflect on all that had happened.

She picked a thought at random from the blizzard in her head. "Do you think it's significant that I didn't call my parents first to tell them?"

As Marcie expected, Patti turned the question around. "Do you?"

"I've been thinking about it a lot. The first thing that occurred to me as soon as he put the ring on my finger was I had to call Carole...and then you. " She paused to think about it a little more. "I guess it isn't that big a deal..."

It had been a whirlwind: as he suggested, his lawyers dropped a ton of paperwork on her. Thankfully Dave had recommended an excellent attorney. Tom had reviewed all of the agreements and had pushed back on several of the clauses. Neither Marcie nor Monty really cared – she knew he would take care of her no matter what, and while having money was going to give her a lot more free time, how much did she need? The pre-nup figure was more than she had ever expected to make her entire lifetime of working.

She had asked Carole to be her maid-of-honor. Her friend's personality grated on her nerves at times, but she was exceptional at organizing things. The first problem, however, was the date.

He didn't even permit her to talk about details the night he proposed, insisting she sleep on it. The next time they got together, when she officially accepted his proposal, she immediately wanted to discuss the date. She wasn't sure why people waited, except to make sure they got on everyone's personal calendar, and then the reality hit her: venues, caterers, etc. etc. But all of that took a back seat to Monty's request: he didn't care what kind of wedding she wanted to put together – whatever she wanted he would support – they couldn't have any personal ceremony until they were officially married by Sundar in the ashram in India.

"How...uh...when would that happen?"

"I don't think it will take much to get on his calendar. As busy as he is, I think there is always room to marry one of his students." Monty smiled but then grew more serious. "The bigger issues will be travel arrangements and such. Do you have a passport?"

She nodded and then re-considered. How old was it? She wasn't sure it was current.

And so it went. The days continued into weeks, with more details emerging every time she and Carole worked through one.

Her therapy with the gizmo continued, twice a week. Patti came over to Monty's (soon to be the both of theirs!) house for each session and each time Marcie and she debriefed. Marcie didn't think anything new was happening – she had continued to explore different pasts with different characteristics of her personality. What she did begin to notice was her feelings about her alternate pasts: with each session she became more accepting of whatever she saw. Some of the pasts seemed completely out of the realm of possibility.

They had been sitting in the study – she had decided to call the glass room the study – sipping a glass of wine. She had just finished her debrief with Patti and they had seen her to the door. The session had been pretty tame – nothing having to do with nudity, submission or anything overtly sexual at all. She had talked with Patti about her feelings, about her excitement at the changes going on in her life and she was still fairly awake.

She hadn't yet had the courage to broach the topic Monty had raised during his proposal. Marcie had pondered it over and over – was it a thinly veiled request to be his submissive? Even as he was saying it, she could feel herself moisten – the image of her stripped naked and bound, kneeling at his feet in the restaurant. Was that what he wanted? In spite of her earlier conviction he didn't need her to be any one way or another, the thought of being his...his to do with as he wanted, turned her on. The thought had crept into her head more and more over the last couple of weeks – another in a long line of obsessive thoughts. She knew it was just her being her, but she couldn't shake the thought.

She felt the eyes of the stars and woods on her; as he puttered around behind her, she unbuttoned her blouse and removed it. He barely took notice.

She had removed her bra and stopped, her breasts now free to feel the slight breezes in the room, her nipples stiffening. She unsnapped her skirt, shimmied out of it and was in the process of peeling her underwear down her legs when he stopped. She looked up and saw he was getting erect through his trousers, bringing a smile to her face. I love that he gets hard just by watching me

"I hope I'm not distracting you too much..." She pulled her underwear off and sat back looking through the skylight. The room was dimly lit, dark enough for her to see the sliver of the moon.

"I'm not doing anything terribly important...at least not so important I can't take a few moments and ogle you."

She thought back to the last session in the theater and an idea struck her.