Chapter 5: Martha

“Rest here a little bit,” Martha said, “and I’ll tell you about my Larry.”

And this is the story she told:

“Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence Jennings.” Larry passed the newly inked marriage license to the desk clerk, He barely glanced at it.

“Hardly need to see this.” He gave them their key. “Welcome to San Francisco.”

They had more than six years of separation to talk about, but neither could find anything to say in front of the elevator operator.

Being in the room with only Larry tied Martha’s tongue even more. It was an ordinary hotel room with an ordinary bed, but the bed absolutely dominated the room. She wanted to share her life with Larry. She could hardly remember a time when she hadn’t looked forward to being married to Larry. That didn’t mean that she wasn’t afraid of sharing a bed with Larry. Finally, he broke the silence.

“Why don’t I go down and smoke a cigarette while you get ready?”

“That’s good.” She wouldn’t have to undress in front of him or in the bathroom knowing that he was listening to her sounds. Martha stripped out of her traveling clothes and showered. She would have preferred to soak in the tub to remove all the grime of hours of traveling with the windows open to the engine’s smoke. She didn’t know, however, how long Larry’s cigarette would last.

She put on her nightgown, real silk and terribly expensive but worth it. She put away her clothes in the closet and looked at herself in the dresser mirror. She no longer looked like the stern Miss Weaver, scourge of the fourth grade. She looked as vulnerable as the girl Larry had left -- she looked both vulnerable and available. She could see the shape of her breasts through the silk and the shadow of her pubic hair. Larry would see that, too. She hurried into bed and covered herself with the sheet. Then she lay there waiting and waiting. Did he have second thoughts? If he left her, how would she get back to Grand Junction? She told herself that she was being silly. He was just giving her time to get settled. Instead, she was getting unsettled.

Larry wanted Martha, but he wanted to protect her, too. In one sense, he’d been protecting her all his time in Europe and Africa.

He’d thought he wanted her when he was a boy before Pearl Harbor. But that was a boy’s ignorant wanting, He knew what it meant, now; he was certain she didn’t. After tonight, he wanted her to want him. And his experience with women didn’t include experience with love or with a virgin. He went past the desk on his way to smoke in the lobby.

“Told you,” said the clerk.

“Pardon?”

“I didn’t need to see the license.”

“They told me to bring it.” Larry said.

“Rules. Easier to say ‘let’s see your marriage license’ than to say ‘you don’t look married.’ But lovers would be upstairs tearing off each others’ clothes. The groom came downstairs to smoke while the bride dolls herself up. Lucky?” Larry took the proffered cigarette.

“We look like husband and wife.”

“She looked like a bride. Wives look a little different. You’ll look different in another month, too, but not like a civilian yet. Division?”

“Fourth. You?”

“Big Red One.”

“So how did you get back before I did?”

“Long before. I was in a stateside hospital on VE day. Recurring pneumonia.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“No problem if I sleep inside and don’t march for hours in soaked clothes. Somehow, those are easy rules for a desk clerk to follow. You’ll like civvy life.”

“Yeah. And the best part starts tonight.” His cigarette was nearly finished. When he’d taken the last drag, the desk clerk passed him an ashtray. They stood in companionable silence for another minute, then he waved and went back to the elevator. When he got to the room, Larry turned on the bathroom light, went back to get his shaving kit and turn off the overhead light. He didn’t want to remove pajamas while lying beside Martha, easier to skip them. But he didn’t want to parade naked before her innocence. Back in the bathroom, he stripped and took a quick shower. He’d done not a bit of work since his morning shower, though he’d sweated bullets before the service. He shaved, wanting a really smooth cheek tonight. When he opened the bathroom door, Martha had the bedside light on. He hadn’t even brought his new pajamas into the bathroom. There being no choice, he went out naked.

When she was left in the dark, Martha turned on the lamp on the nightstand next to her. She’d paid an arm and a leg for the silk nightgown. Larry was damn-well going to see it. The shower was awfully brief, and then there were other noises from the bathroom, but no husband. When he came out, he was naked. Trim, muscular, she’d already known that. He was sticking out in front. She knew what a phallus looked like; she was an educated woman. This, however, looked awfully large; and those of statues projected less.

When he got under the sheet, it was closer, but not so frightening because it was hidden.

“Hello,” she said.

He grinned. “Hello.” He leaned over and kissed her. “Martha.”

“Oh, Larry.” This wouldn’t be so bad. It was what she’d wanted for years. She hugged him. He smoothed his hand down over the nightgown in back. She lay back and pulled the sheet down to her waist. “Do you like it?”

“The nightie? Yes. The contents? Very much. I love you.”

“And I love you.” At least, he’d looked at the nightgown. And she certainly couldn’t complain that he said he liked her more. When he kissed her again, his hand went to her breast. She started to feel more excited than scared. She reached up to his hand and held it where it was.

“Oh, Martha.” The breast was so soft, so firm, so warm, so alive! He could feel her nipple under his thumb. After a moment, it pushed out more firmly. It was so arousing through the cloth, he had to feel it directly. He reached down for the hem of the nightie.

“Let me.”

Well, thought Martha, he’d seen the nightgown. And she didn’t want it to get mussed. She helped him take it off. Briefly, she regretted the light. She blushed when he looked at her naked breasts.

“Oh Martha!” He’d guessed their shape, but now he was seeing how beautiful they were. As he stared, her nipples firmed slightly. He reached out to cup one breast. It was warm and cuddled into his hand. It moved as she breathed. He bent to kiss the nipple of the other one. She held the back of his head, permitting, even encouraging, this pillaging of her beauty.

Even as she was blushing, Martha saw that Larry’s approach was reverent. Seeing herself in his face revealed a beauty her mirror didn’t show. She was, after all, his. If he looked at her like that, let him look. When his hand left her right breast to caress her belly, she kept herself from grabbing it. This, too, was his. All she did was pull the top sheet higher when his wrist threatened to bare her mound.

Larry stroked Martha’s mound, her smooth thighs -- why were women so smooth and men so hairy? -- and, finally, the lips between her thighs. He was having trouble holding himself back.

Whatever she thought about Larry’s matrimonial rights, Martha clenched her legs together when he touched her there. He didn’t argue or use those impressive muscles. He just rubbed where he could. Soon enough, the sensations were more pleasant than scary. Her legs relaxed and the rubbing went further.

When she finally gave him space to do so, Larry grasped Martha’s mound with his full hand. He abandoned the sweet breast to kiss her mouth again. This time, his tongue entered and met her tongue.The thrill was electric. When he broke that contact, he insinuated one finger between her outer lips. He felt moisture. She was responding to him!