Chapter 41

When I got home at five thirty, I was greeted at the door by Brenda and Cindy. Both of them gave me kisses, but Brenda's was a lot warmer than Cindy's, which had only been a quick peck on the cheek.

Brenda told me they had only gotten home a few minutes before me, then went on to explain that the three of us were going out to dinner together. I told her that I needed to wait for Jerry to call me, and let me know he had gotten settled in okay.

"Why don't we drive over to his hotel first, and get him to come out to eat with us?" Brenda didn't like waiting around for things to happen. I tried to imagine both girls responses after spending five minutes in Jerry's company. The more I tried to imagine it, the funnier it began to seem to me. I finally relented, telling the girls that I'd call and leave a message at the hotel for Jerry, letting him know that we were coming in to get him, and would be taking him out to dinner with us.

It was only when we were in the car, and driving over to the hotel, that I started thinking about how Cindy might respond to Jerry's vulgar profanities. I wasn't worried about Brenda, knowing she wouldn't be shocked, and, if anything, would think Jerry was funny.

Cindy was a different story. Jerry might send her back into her shell after she had a chance to see him at his worst. Jerry was a very big man, barrel chested and robust. He was physically intimidating, even without the gruff exterior he liked to project.

"Cindy, this man we're going to be meeting. I have to warn you about him. He is very outspoken, likes to shock people with his language. He's big, and he swears like a drunken sailor, but, really, he's a very nice man. He's as good at fixing machinery as Phil too. Don't be upset by any of the things he says." Cindy just stared at me from her seat on the front passenger side. I could see my words had frightened her a little. "Really, his bark is much worse than his bite." All I could hope for was that Jerry, seeing I was with two young ladies, would tone down his language, and try to not be so intimidating. He was standing by the registration desk when the three of us entered the hotel lobby.

"Parsons, you big candy ass! Look at what you brought us too. Which one is for me?" It was obvious that Jerry thought I'd brought some hookers with me. The last time I'd seen him, I'd still been single.

Brenda and Cindy were both wearing nice dresses, with light Fall jackets, that only came down to their waists. Jerry was staring at Brenda, his look making it extremely clear which one he'd like to be his 'date' for the evening. Brenda looked back at Jerry and started giggling.

"Hi Jerry. This is Brenda, my wife, and this is Cindy Macklinson. We just bought the company down here from her family. Ladies, this big gorilla, with his foot wedged so firmly in his pie hole, is Jerry Davis. He likes to tear things apart, then watch the real mechanics put them back together for him." I went over quickly to shake his hand.

"Jesus, Kenny, I'm so fucking sorry. I just thought, you know, that they were too fucking good looking for them to be girls that you really knew." That was the way Jerry apologized. Brenda was beaming at him. Cindy hung back, keeping me between her and Jerry.

We went out and got into the Oldsmobile, with Brenda and Cindy both insisting that they'd sit in the back so that Jerry and I had plenty of leg room up front. Cindy gave us directions to this restaurant she had recommended to us.

It was a place over on Oak Street, close to the country club. The food and the service was excellent, and the appetizers were really special. Jerry and I had the crabcakes, Brenda had the Jamaican jumbo shrimp, while Cindy had the bacon wrapped scallops, and sauteed spinach. Jerry and I both ordered the small filet mignon with the sauteed lump blue crab meat. Brenda had the broiled sea bass, and Cindy ordered up some oyster and artichoke soup with red snapper, baked to perfection.

During dinner, Jerry refrained from speaking, except to answer direct questions with short answers, usually a yes or a no. I saw that he was feeling out of place and, perhaps, a little bit intimidated by the ladies, now that he had adjusted himself to who they were. I didn't want him feeling uncomfortable, but was unable to draw him out enough to get him relaxed so we could have our normal conversation together.

"You know, Jerry, both these girls have heard colorful language before."

"It isn't them, Kenny, its this fucking place, and these fucking people. They're all staring at me. I keep thinking I've got fucking food stuck on my fucking chin or something. What's fucking wrong with me?" I laughed, and so did Brenda. Cindy didn't see what was funny.

"I hate to burst your bubble big guy, but they're staring at Brenda, not at you. In case you haven't noticed, Brenda's totally beautiful." Brenda warmed to my compliment. I felt her hand, under the table, reach out to tap my thigh, thanking me for my observation.

"Naw, that ain't fucking it. Look at the fucking old broads too, they keep looking over here also. Its me, something's fucked up about me."

"Tell you what, go to the rest room. When you come back, wait over by the bar for a minute, then you'll see who they're looking at. Believe me, it isn't you." Jerry got up. I noticed he was scowling at every other table of diners he passed. I took the opportunity, while Jerry was absent, to check with Cindy, to make sure she was doing all right. She said she was fine, but she looked a little nervous to me. I told her we'd finish dinner, take Jerry back to the hotel, then go back to the house. She smiled at me, but I could tell her heart wasn't in it. I once again cursed myself for not anticipating something like this happening.

When Jerry finally came back to our table, he seemed satisfied with my earlier explanation of who the other diners were looking at. We finished our dinners, then drove back to the hotel. I had given Jerry directions out to the plant, and told him I'd see him out there at eight o'clock sharp.

Back home, the three of us had ourselves a glass of wine, laughing about how Jerry would fit in at the plant. I knew he wouldn't have any problems. Cindy thought it wouldn't take long for word to get back to her Uncle Phil, that someone was in the plant, doing things to his precious machinery. I thought it would be interesting to watch Phil and Jerry having a conversation about the best way to maintain plant equipment.

I went into the bedroom for a quick shower, pausing long enough to brush my teeth and have a quick shave. I was planning on going to see Cindy again, hoping to continue making progress with our kissing. This time, before she decided she wanted to go say goodnight to Cindy, I was going to make sure I made love to Brenda, right after I came back from visiting Cindy in her room.

When I came out of the bathroom though, Cindy was in my bed, the sheet pulled up to her neck. Brenda was nowhere to be found. Cindy was smiling at me, smiling in a way that seemed to hold some real promise. I went over and got into bed, careful again to stay over on my side.

"This is a pleasant surprise. I hoped you wouldn't be too upset about Jerry. He really is a nice guy, just a little rough around the edges."

"Brenda thinks he's cute. When the four of us were together tonight, I was able to appreciate the contrast between you and him. You're softer, gentler. He's more like what I've been afraid of."

"Jerry's not really like he sounds or even acts sometimes. If he was like that, we wouldn't be friends. He wouldn't ever want to harm a woman."

"No, that isn't what I meant. What I was trying to say was this is what I meant before when I said you were different. You aren't like the other men I've met. You make me feel safer. There's something about the way you look at your children, and the way you were, when you held Joyce, after she was so upset that time. Even last night, when you sent Brenda in to be with me, because you could tell I was a little afraid, and didn't want to be left all alone. After you left, before Brenda came to my room, I was hoping you would come back."

"We aren't in any race here. We can take all the time we need. I had a very good time last night. It's been awhile since I took the time to really enjoy just kissing someone."

"What I'm trying to say, Kenny, is that, after this dinner, I know for sure what I want. That's why I asked Brenda to let me stay in here with you tonight. I've been thinking about it all day, and seeing Jerry tonight, and watching all the other men in the restaurant, the way they were looking at Brenda, I know I'm ready."

"What about the men who looked at Brenda? That's normal. Wherever we go, people always stare at her. It's a part of how she looks. Brenda is so used to it, she hardly notices it anymore."

"They all stared, but you didn't. You spent as much time looking at me, as you did looking at her."

I didn't realize it, hadn't even thought about it. I sure didn't take Brenda's beauty for granted, but, I'd learned that there were offsetting traits with Brenda. Her looks made up for them, and I loved her, but she wasn't perfect, and I didn't value her more than I did Joyce, or any of my other wives. I didn't want to talk myself out of whatever significance Cindy had attached to my not staring exclusively at Brenda. If it made me a more desirable partner to her, I'd accept her praise.

I turned over on my side, moving towards the middle of the mattress, so I was facing her from much closer than before.

"So, you think you might be ready to go past where we went last night?" I didn't try to close the distance separating us all the way with her. She seemed to become afraid whenever I moved past the physical separation boundry she had fixed inside her head for us.

Cindy was moving closer herself. It must have been slow and subtle movement, because I hadn't noticed it until I looked at her, after finishing asking my own question of her.

"I want us to be together, Kenny. Not just in the same bed, or kissing. I want you. I'm aching inside right now, even though I'm scared to death that it's going to hurt me. I'd rather it hurt as much as it has to, then have to go another minute without us being together."

She finished up talking, running her words together, as she launched her face at mine. From the heat of her lips and breath when she kissed me, I knew she had done all of the preparatory work for me. She was ready. I had to clamp down on myself, to prevent things from getting too rushed. I didn't want to get too carried away by her apparent enthusiasm. One of the worst mistakes I could make would be to move forward too quickly.

I was grateful for the early experience I'd had, especially the times when I'd been with several of the wives at once. I knew orgasms were built, that they could be strengthened and made more intensely pleasurable, by taking the time to allow them to reach their highest potential. I'd experimented often enough to know this was true. Joyce had cautioned me several times before, that this first time needed to be very special and pleasurable for Cindy. She had some very horrible memories to overcome, and it would take much more than ordinary sex to help her put some of those memories back in the recesses of her mind.

Cindy kept all those memories right at the surface now, and this explained why she was so tentative and skittish around men. Almost everything having to do with men brought back terrible memories for her. The time that had passed had done little to improve her reaction to men. I wasn't Superman, and I didn't have any magic to give her to take away any of the hurt or suffering. All I could hope for was to give her a new memory, one to compete with the negative ones she now kept so close to her consciousness.

I did my best, doing what I could to fan her passion to the highest point I could coax from her. It wasn't long before I showed her that having me inside her wasn't a painful experience. This relaxed her, then I could withdraw, and go back to using my fingers and tongue, to raise her up to an even higher plateau. I felt like one of the Macklinsons, starting and stopping, although I like to think my stops were simply pauses, designed to evaluate where all the many starts were taking her. I learned her body, what she reacted most to, only doing enough of it to verify, for myself, that this was her best path to pleasure.

It was a time consuming process, but not one without its rewards along the way. I had already cum twice, before I felt myself sufficiently attuned to her body's pleasure centers to start my drive to give her the greatest sexual pleasure I was capable of giving. I wanted every nerve ending of hers vibrating with pleasure when she reached her next climax. She had already enjoyed multiple orgasms, but nothing like what I was preparing for her at the end.

Her body was my instrument, and this was the best music I was going to be able to coax from it. The crescendo was with me, on top of her, transporting her charged emotions past all of the barriers she had erected to prevent herself from going into a sensory overload. She resisted at the end, fearing giving herself over to the excesses of sensation I was producing in her body.

Even her resistence was surrender. The noises she made were primal sounds, disconnected from rational thought, expressing the feeling that she could no longer shield from me. When I came, at the end, she was no longer in any state of consciousness to know it. She hadn't passed out, but she had ceased to do more than react, and even that reaction was due more to those raw nerve endings than any sensation of pain or pleasure.

After I pulled back out of her, I pulled us both together, in a face to face embrace, while we lay there, on our sides. The sex was finished, but as she began to regain her awareness, it was an awareness of me, kissing her, worshipping the connection we had just formed.

We had enjoyed and endured an intense physical bonding, one that opened us both up to a place where no emotion stays hidden.

I kissed and loved her with my lips, holding her, with my exposed self, vulnerable, until she had gotten back to the point where she could consciously accept or reject what was happening between us.

She accepted me, raining kisses of her own, and crying, our tears merging together as we shared the profundity of the total joining we were both now acknowledging.

There is making love, and there is MAKING LOVE! One is a physical act, and is a lot of fun. The other is a commitment, a commitment to share yourself fully with another. It was this last I had shared with Cindy. It was more than I'd ever done before, with anyone.

I needed to pull out all the stops to ensure that this one was special. I was making love to Cindy, not just for me, but for Joyce as well. I couldn't have done what I did, not if it were just for myself. I didn't have that power of giving, or selflessness. That, I needed to borrow from my own memories of what Joyce had always given to me. Joyce had asked me to do this for her, I owed it to her to do the best that I could.