By Margo Perry  (margo707 AT rogers DOT com)
Copyright 2007 by Margo Perry, all rights reserved.

The waiter kept a discreet distance as Marilyn ran her beautifully manicured fingers over the bill. I defensively curled my chewed nails into a fist; no Metro sexual, I! In fact, I was in dire need of a good gym program, a waxing of the forest that matted my chest, and a basic hand/foot cure. Not that I was seriously considering any of the above, but every man in this room looked like he’d been turned out by the Queer Eye team and, in my seven year old suit, I looked and felt like a mess.

The waiter didn’t help. His insolent glare was boring a hole in the top of my balding head, signaling the same disdain I felt when he’d thrust the menu without prices in my face. Clearly, in his not-at-all-humble opinion, a man who allowed a woman to take charge of the ordering and payment of a meal was no man at all. To his debit, his attitude was wasted on me, his disapproval as superfluous as the ingestion of breakfast cereal after a gourmet meal. Fifty-five years of living weighed heavily on shoulders already stooped by too many hours spent with my disinterested high school music students, so as far as Henri the waiter was concerned, I just didn’t give a shit.

It might sound like I needed a hole to jump into, but that was the last thing I wanted. I was so infatuated with this woman that I would have withstood any indignity just to look at her. Her humongous breasts fell over her arm onto the table as she bent to sign her credit card chit, and I watched, a happy man. My only problem was the voice in my head. I couldn’t keep it quiet and it was loud and contemptuous.

Who are you kidding, you old fool? This woman isn’t a minute over thirty and I’m sure she’s cursing her poor sister for setting her up on this abysmal date. You couldn’t afford to treat her to high tea at a place like this on your piddling salary. You are so out of your league…

“Thank you so very, very, very much.” Henri was gushing and drooling over his tip.

“You’re very welcome.” Marilyn replaced the card in her wallet and flashed her mischievous green eyes in my direction. “My place for a night cap?”

She’s just being polite. Decline the offer, put her out of her misery and be on your way…

I ignored the voice, sucked in my belly and squared my shoulders as best I could. “Love to,” I said.

“Terrific!” She adjusted her chair to get up.

To say that she stood would be an understatement. Resting her palms on the arms of her chair, she leaned forward. A shiny cascade of henna waves tumbled over her bare shoulders onto her bulging breasts. I tried to focus on her face and remain calm, but as she unfolded her long body, my own betrayed me. My cock tingled, my pulse quickened and my eyes devoured every inch of her. I struggled to my 6’ 2” height noticing, as I had when we met, that in her high-heeled sandals, she looked me straight in the eye. Her sophisticated, subtly oriental fragrance teased my nostrils while the overwhelming magnetism of her primitive femininity completely unsettled me. I felt like I was standing too close to a fire. Her smoothly curved hips led to a tiny waist and her breasts, that rose and fell with her every breath, swayed as she moved. Her black dress fell softly over her shoulders into a classic V from which her promisingly long cleavage merely peeked. A barely visible lacy black bra presented her gigantic mounds like outstretched arms offering birthday gifts. I wanted to unwrap them, play with them and that was my undoing. I could feel my cock invading my brain, threatening a takeover.

You’re going to come in your pants if you don’t get a grip! Look at her face. She’s not the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen …

I looked at her face. She wasn’t pretty. Her nose was thin and sharp, her lips too thick and her chin too pronounced. However, it didn’t matter. Born to be a Plain Jane, she’d tricked nature. Her face had become eloquent and magnificently exotic in its expression of a daringly commanding and seductive personality.

“Shall we?” she asked, heading for the door.

I followed obediently, feeling all eyes on us. She surveyed the room in passing, smiling nonchalantly to no one in particular. I wanted to share her self-confidence, but it was non-transferable. All I wanted was to get out of there and have her all to myself.

I held open the elaborately carved oaken door for Marilyn and was relieved that a delightful cool had replaced the sweltering heat of the day. I breathed deeply. “Thanks for dinner,” I said.

Sensi’s was the most expensive restaurant in town and the thought of our bill frightened me. Marilyn’s sister, Jenny, taught drama at the school and we had become dear friends over the years. Marilyn divorced her husband around the same time I divorced my wife and Jenny believed that we could learn from each other. Marilyn’s response to her new status had been to turn outward, to rush into a maelstrom of short-lived affairs. Mine had been to become reclusive. Until tonight. And although Marilyn had treated me like a prince, I was filled with insecurities. On Jenny’s advice I’m sure, she ordered my favorite foods: surf and turf, full-bodied red wine and, last but not least, the Blue Mountain coffee I’d fallen in love with on a long ago trip to Jamaica. Despite my angst, tonight had been an exquisite culinary experience. There was a spring in my step and my senses were more alive than they’d been in twenty years. The multi-colored rose hedges surrounding the property dazzled me with their vibrant colors, filling the air with the scents poetry was made of. “Best meal I’ve ever had,” I enthused, meaning every word. “Thanks again.”

“You’re very welcome.” We’d crossed the lot to our cars that sat, side by side. “Jenny ordered me to take very good care of you. I think she’s a little in love and I can see why.”

“I don’t think so,” I said, confused. We’re just …”

My words drifted into the city smog as Marilyn jumped into her 2007 Volkswagen Beetle convertible. “Follow me,” she said. “My condo’s about fifteen minutes from here.”

I climbed into my tired but reliable Hyundai, feeling like an ancient serf, proud to be in her service.

On the street, Marilyn drove impatiently, negotiating the traffic like a highly-strung thoroughbred trapped amidst grazing domestics. As I tried to keep her in my sight without jeopardizing my own safety standards, I thought of Jenny, a caring and reliable friend. She had been trying to set up this date for months. She described Marilyn as fatally single, allergic to all things serious and therefore a perfect match for what Jenny called my ‘present pathology.’ I was vulnerable after my divorce and needed fun, not a commitment. She insisted Marilyn was just what I needed and when I finally relented, wasted no time in taking action.

As Marilyn slowed her pace, allowing me to catch up, I thought about how she’d been in control all evening. She’d told me nothing about herself, while encouraging me to talk about myself non-stop all through dinner. She now knew about my ex-wife, Fran, about our sudden divorce after fifteen years of marriage; how she’d fallen in love with a twenty-two year old guitar player with a passion so overwhelming that she glowed as she spared me no florid detail of the when, how and what of their affair. I was as jealous of her boyfriend’s standing as a professional musician as I was of his being my wife’s choice. Fran left me, taking only her clothes and asking only for my eventual forgiveness. I fell apart, but managed to sell the house and move the tiny pieces of myself into an apartment. Our divorce was quick and painfully painless.

Marilyn was turning left into the Life On The Lake Condo Estates. An architect had won an award for the design of this complex. I felt suddenly discouraged. I had to admit that I was fascinated by this woman, but could see no reason for her to be interested in me. I slapped my steering wheel with frustration as I followed her through a set of intricately designed cast iron gates and along a circular drive that wound itself into an underground garage. She parked and waved me into the spot beside her.

By the time I’d unlocked my car, she was opening my door for me, standing so close that I realized I’d have to brush up against her to get out. I paused long enough to test her intentions and climbed out when she didn’t move. I felt her breasts first and then her arms as she pulled me into her. She placed her cheek against mine and we stood like young teenagers in love, slow-dancing in some old fifties film. I panted with embarrassment as my cock, huge and hungry, pressed into her. I felt dizzy and time had no meaning. I was totally in the present and all I wanted was to stay there forever.

She took both my hands and stepped back, kissing my knuckles. “I want you to know that I think you’re adorable and I want to get to know you. Let’s go.”

She was still in charge. A short walk to a bank of elevators and we were taking a smooth, silent express ride to the forty-seventh floor. The doors opened onto a large marbled foyer bounded by four doors. “That’s us,” she said, choosing Penthouse IV. She touched the door with her palm, and it opened as if by magic. Soft light bathed the space as we moved through it. Living, kitchen, dining, a study and entertainment spaces seemed to flow cleanly one into another. We stood holding hands, looking out of the floor to ceiling windows at a glittering city that seemed to exist just for us. The view of the lake was magnificent.

“This is the most beautiful apartment I’ve ever seen. I seem to be full of superlatives tonight,” I laughed at myself.

“That’s okay,” she said. “It is nice. Would you like wine or something else. I was thinking about having a brandy.”

“Whatever you’re having,” I said, still drinking in the panoramic view.

“Try this.”

I accepted the gold and crystal snifter, following her lead as she swirled the golden brown Hennessy. I sipped and the liquid fire painted my tongue before slipping its peppery way down my throat. It burned inside me and sweat prickled my brow as I felt its force expanding along the length and girth of my cock. My balls had a dull ache and I realized just how aroused I was.

“Sit,” Marilyn said, patting the couch. She curled her legs under her and sat facing me. A slender thigh peeped from beneath the skirt of her wraparound dress and her huge breasts reached out to me, threatening to span a distance I longed to cross. “We’ve been together since seven. That’s almost four hours. What’s your impression of me? Who do you think I am? How I look? All of this?”

I looked out at the view and then twisted around to take in the expanse of the condo. I checked the high ceilings. Her questions seemed so loaded that she might as well have asked me to explain the theory of numbers using the machinery of calculus and complex analysis. “I’ve been doing all the talking. Tell me something about yourself,” I said, finally.

“Am I so pablum that I’ve made no impression at all?”

“Absolutely not,” I said, quickly. “I’ll try …”

“Please do,” she interrupted.

Tell the truth. That’s all you can do …

“You’re very attractive. And I would guess from ‘all this’ that you’re wealthy and very successful in your own right. Which isn’t surprising because you have star quality. The way people respond to you is something to see and I’m so drawn to you that it frightens me.”

“That’s very flattering, but not at all true. I might be wealthy, but I’m not at all successful – in any way. I partied away my college years, never graduating. I married a gangster and spent years as a trophy wife, putting up with his disrespect and affairs with other women, until I spoke up and he slapped me so hard it brought me to my senses and I left. That’s where all this comes from, my divorce settlement. He was happy to give me a few million to get rid of me. I envy you and my sister. You teach what you love. The only thing I’ve ever loved is writing and I haven’t had the courage or discipline to do anything about it. I’ve spent half my life making mistakes and the other half trying to forget them. And every year it gets harder to pretend that that’s enough.”

She seemed to shrink before my very eyes and my heart went out to her. I wanted to help, but I didn’t know how. “Maybe if you set a certain number of hours to write every day or, if you can’t manage that, take a course to get you…”

Like a cheetah, she closed the distance between us and silenced me mid-word with her lips. Her kiss was ferocious, deep, wet and desperate. I could feel her breasts pressing into me, spongy and soft. I felt my skin and flesh melting away, as though I wanted to more than fuck her; I wanted to heal her, protect her, to own her. I wanted us to become one inseparable erotic zone. I grabbed her, pulling her harder into me, grappling for control. She fought back, squirming into my lap, so that now her hot pussy grinding into my crotch had joined her tits massaging against my chest in an assault that would ultimately bring me to my knees. I wanted her more than I’ve ever wanted any woman in my life. And I pushed her away.

“What’s wrong?” she panted.

“I need to be sure.” Sure of what, I didn’t know. All I knew was that I didn’t want to be the means to a short-lived end. “I need this… us, to be special.”

Marilyn was off my lap with her back against the far end of the couch before I had even finished my sentence.

Why do you have to spoil everything? What do you have against pleasure? She’s ready to make it with you. Get with the program…

The wrong head was arguing its case and I ignored it. I sipped my cognac, while willing the collapse of the obscene erection that tenting my pants. I looked at Marilyn. Her face had become a mask and at that moment, I realized that my years of living had given me the tools to see behind it. I suddenly felt strong. I knew I could help. “What do you want from me?” I asked, quietly.

“I just want to forget,” she said.

“That’s not good enough,” I said, moving toward her. “I want you to remember.” I planted soft kisses over her face. “I want to give you pleasure, pleasure that you’ll want to remember.”

I licked her lips until they opened in a sigh of acquiescence. I nibbled her ears until she moaned. She stretched out on the sofa and I knelt beside her and caressed her feet, calves and thighs. I lost myself in the exploration of her heat and wetness, rubbing her clit through the satiny softness of her panties. Her face was my guide. I watched it flush responsively or shadow over with doubt, letting its subtle nuances tell me whether to stay and kiss a nipple longer or move on. Her nipples were sensitive and I suckled, teasing them with my teeth, lips and tongue, until she moaned loudly. I gently massaged, kissed and fondled her breasts for my pleasure, because I loved them, because I couldn’t stop myself.

I finally stood and stooped over to ease her panties over her hips. I could smell her sex, the savage, pungent smell of a woman aroused, and I loved it. It turned me on as only a woman aroused could.

“Now touch yourself. Let me see you give yourself pleasure.”

She arched her back slightly, opened her legs and spread the lips of her pussy. She began to massage her clit. She slipped her fingers inside herself, and slid them back and forth slowly. Her thighs glistened with her moistness and her face told me that she was ready. I slipped out of my clothes and moaned with appreciation at the sight of her. Her magnificently huge breasts bobbed and swayed, intoxicating me, hypnotizing me. I was afraid I was going to come. She knelt in front of me, took me in hand and mouth, stroking and sucking my fully erect and grateful cock. She slipped a condom over its head, before stretching out on the Chinese rug and presenting herself to me. She was a picture of lust and beauty with her creamy flesh against the vibrant reds, blues, greens, browns and yellows of the carpet. I was honored to place myself between her legs; honored to tease her enlarged clit with my oozing cock head. I didn’t give her a chance to beg. She was my queen. I didn’t want her to have to beg. I fucked her as slowly and deliberately as I could, making it last for as long as I could. Just when I thought I could hold back no longer, she quickened the pace. We both began to come uncontrollably, two people without minds, without any experience except that which we shared. We came with an intensity that created a bond between us that neither of us would ever forget.

Afterward, we didn’t sleep much. She brought notebooks full of little poems, stories and abstract writings to bed. Between kisses, caresses, hugs and bouts of burning lovemaking, I read all that she had written

“Now I know who you are,” I said, pulling her close. “You’re a writer and a very good one. All you need to do now is write.”

When I left the next morning, she was sitting at her computer writing furiously.

“Will you come back tonight?” she looked up and asked. “I’m in need of an editor. Will you accept the position?”

“With pleasure,” I said, kissing the top of her head. “See you tonight.”

I was happy to be alone in the elevator, alone with my foolish grin. And I was grateful for the years of my living, glad that they afforded me something to share.