Chapter 4: Carpe Diem

It was a small town, without much of a night life. With nothing better to do, pretty much all the young adult out-of-towners who attended the funeral arranged to meet that evening at a local restaurant, to have dinner together. Most of them were college friends of Karen's.

Paul attended too, mainly at the urging of his parents, as most of the group were his friends as well.

The lively atmosphere of the meal was a welcome change for everyone, having only hours earlier attended the depressing funeral and reception. Most of them had returned to their motel rooms to change into more casual outfits. There were many mentions of Karen, but instead of grieving for her, her friends were now mostly celebrating her life; recounting their charming stories of her warm friendship and laughing raucously at some of her more embarrassing mishaps that were suddenly fond memories.

There were 23 people in all from the funeral gathered there and it was inevitable that the large table became mostly a disorganized rabble of several cross-table discussions happening all at once. Seats switched from being occupied, to unoccupied, to occupied by someone else often, as people moved around to join particular conversations.

Marcy had changed from her appropriate black funeral dress into a light blue one-piece with a neckline that showed more than a hint of cleavage. She'd deliberately bought it one size small so that it would show her figure. She'd packed it for this trip even though she hadn't expected to ever use it, but being a fashionable woman, Marcy never allowed herself to be out of arm's reach of an outfit that flaunted her goods.

Knowing that her tears would ruin her face, she'd worn very little make-up to the funeral. But for the dinner she'd applied a distinct level of eyeliner and a shade of lipstick that was just a little too red to be natural.

Some might've said that her appearance was unusually provocative for a get-together of people who had just buried a dear friend. But nobody who knew Marcy, at least by reputation, would've given it a second thought.

The truth was, Marcy hadn't just dressed sexy by force of habit; she'd come to this dinner with a plan.

She spent much of that afternoon reflecting on her 'reconciliation' with Paul, especially his involuntary reaction to it. At first, it was just like a private joke that made her smirk. Then, thinking about his erection inevitably led to thinking about having sex with him. It didn't take her long to realize that it wasn't such an absurd train of thought.

What was she gonna do tonight after dinner? Go back to her motel room? Spend the night all alone, perhaps watching some TV? Considering everything that was happening right now, and the events of the day, the odds were that she'd just end just thinking about things for hours on end, probably drive herself crazy and barely get any sleep. A night of casual sex seemed like just what the doctor ordered to keep her distracted. Anyway, Paul's display of sympathy notwithstanding, it had been a very rough day. The thought of having some fun seemed like a welcome change of pace.

On the other side of the matter, Paul's erection at the funeral reception was unmistakable proof that, on a purely physical level at least, he wanted to do her. Marcy was willing to bet that ever since his 'little friend' had made a scene, he'd been fighting off dirty thoughts about her. She'd certainly given him plenty of material to work with in the cabin. She figured that it wouldn't take much of an effort to get him back into her bed.

Making him look at her gorgeous body in a tight dress all night would only make her job easier.

When the evening began to wind down, the checks had been paid and the first people started saying their goodbyes, Marcy took advantage of an empty chair beside Paul and casually made her way over to it. She sat down, turning her legs towards him so he'd get a good look at the last few inches of her smooth thighs and everything below.

Rifling through her purse to disguise the fact she was speaking to him, she said in a deadpan tone, "I don't want to be alone tonight. It can either be you, or I can go to a bar and find some other guy."

She meant every word. She was getting laid tonight, no question; she needed the distraction. Both Marcy and Paul knew that looking the way she did, it would take her all of five seconds to find a random guy who would be more than willing to oblige her. But with a random guy Marcy wouldn't know what she was getting. She could end up with some machismo guy who'd just pound away at her like a jackhammer, or dominate her like a cowboy taming a wild bronco. Getting fucked like that could be a lot of fun, but tonight what Marcy really wanted was 'company'. She knew that as a lover, Paul was good company. He was her first choice.

She lifted her gaze, looking an astounded Paul in the eye just long enough to let him know that yes, she was indeed talking to him.

With a huff of disgust, he turned away from her, the tension instantly visible in his body language.

Marcy waited only a second for her proposal to sink in. When Paul didn't respond she told him, "Suit yourself," in a tone that sounded like she genuinely couldn't give a rat's ass one way or the other.

She stood up to leave when Paul said, "Wait," cocking his head without actually turning all the way over to look at her.

Marcy paused for a moment before slowly resuming her seat. She, likewise, avoided looking at him, her gaze instead fixed on a random point on the far wall directly in front of her. Though a quick peek through her peripheral vision spotted the look of deep conflict on Paul's face. She decided she would wait a couple of seconds for his battle between cock and conscience to be resolved before she would silently leave him again. She had no intention of undermining her influence by waiting too long for him to make up his mind. She liked the feeling of control that horny guys gave her; it was a big part of the thrill.

"Alright," Paul agreed with a sense of defeat in his voice. He didn't look at her; he felt like he couldn't look at her, he was so ashamed.

"Okay," Marcy quietly replied, once again in a deadpan voice that sounded like she could care less. "Wait here for 15 or 20 minutes after I leave. I don't want people to see us leaving together. I'm at the Sparrow's Nest motel. You know it?"

Paul nodded softly.

"Room 9. The door will be unlocked," Marcy concluded.

With that, she stood up and made her cheery, girly goodbyes to all her friends before strolling confidently out the door.

The following minutes were agony for Paul. The conflict inside continued well after he'd made his verbal agreement with Marcy. A continuous voice in his head kept screaming at him, "THIS IS WRONG, WRONG, WRONG AND YOU KNOW IT!" For a while, he leaned towards ditching Marcy and doing something, anything else with his night.

But he really wanted to fuck her. At one point, the memory of her naked body leaning over him as she pinned him to the mattress, her full, supple breasts swaying wildly side to side as she gyrated, played through his mind like a dirty home movie that wouldn't stop. He began to get another boner and it took all his concentration to stifle it.

In the end, morality had no hope. His blood was utterly saturated with testosterone from too many primal thoughts and too much convenience. He needed to blow his load or he'd go crazy.

He'd been watching the time. 11 minutes after Marcy had left, Paul wandered over to a quiet corner of the restaurant where he could make a call in private. Officially committing himself to the low road, he phoned his parents to tell them that, "Me and some of the guys are going to go hit the bars. We'll probably be out pretty late, so don't wait up."

He'd hoped that the call would eat up a bit of time, but it took less than 20 seconds and Paul quickly returned to his seat. By 14 minutes after Marcy's departure the stress was killing him. He went around briskly saying his goodbyes to everyone before leaving.

Paul reasoned that Marcy probably caught a cab back to her motel. But being a local, Paul knew all the shortcuts that made a trip to the Sparrow's Nest motel a five minute walk.

With every passing landmark, every passing cross-street, Paul became more and more anxious. By the time he was standing at the threshold of the Sparrow's Nest room #9's door, his heart sounded like a bass drum reverberating through his whole body.

Despite the burning eagerness that drove him here so briskly, Paul hesitated outside Marcy's door for almost 2 minutes while he grappled one last time with his misgivings about what would surely happen once he stepped through that door.

Eventually, he summoned up the resolve to rap lightly upon the door.

"Marcy?" he called, quietly so as to avoid any other guests hearing. He didn't want to be spotted here.

Several seconds passed with no response. He tried the knob. As promised, the door was unlocked. He timidly peered inside, terrified that he may have somehow gotten the room number wrong.

The lights were on, but nobody was home. He stepped inside, gently closing the door behind him. He thought he could hear the sound of a shower coming from a door at the rear of the room. Cautiously, he proceeded.

As he ventured forth, he spotted the distinctive light blue dress Marcy had been wearing on a bench, folded neatly beside a suitcase. This was definitely the right room. Near the dress was also a matching set of sheer black lacy bra and panties. Seeing Marcy's undergarments on display like that really hammered the point home for Paul: they were really gonna have sex again. His stomach sank, though whether it was from a sense of self-loathing, or simply the blood racing to his cock, he couldn't say.

He continued on to the closed wooden door at the end of the room. He opened it. The bright florescent light of the bathroom was much harsher than the muted light of the motel room itself. The noise of the shower was quite clear now.

Paul tried to peek inside, kind of like he wanted to know what he was in for before he gave away his position. But it was no good; the shower was clearly on the hinge-side of the door, he'd never be able to see anything without actually stepping in to the bathroom.

So he did just that. Gingerly stepping through the door, he turned to discover that the shower barrier and swinging door were both single panes of clear glass. Inside, her body entwined in dozens of small streams of flowing water, was a statuesque vision of pure female perfection. A thick curtain of dark, saturated hair hung heavy down to the small of her back. Her ass had a certain cuteness to it. It was short, but had a very voluptuous bulge. Her cheeks, well-defined by underside creases looked as yielding and fit as could be.

Her back was turned to him, but he knew it had to be Marcy. Only one woman in a thousand would have a body as fine as hers.

Paul watched her for a while without making a sound, his member rising rapidly in surges that synchronized with his pounding heart. The inhibitions that had tormented him up till now were discarded and forgotten. There was no right or wrong in this place, this was the jungle, the animal kingdom, there was only the rule of nature.

Marcy tilted her head up, letting the water pour over her face. She lifted her arms to pull her hair back, giving Paul a wonderful display of sideboob.