Chapter 11: The Ring

Mary finally got off his lap to organise them some food.

They ate quietly, and Marty was surprised when she got up and left the kitchen when she had finished. He collected their dishes and put the dishwasher on. He wiped down the bench and thought of doing some work. He wanted to go over the surveys that he had of her land.

Mary came back and took his hand. She led him to the lounge room and indicated a chair. He sat down and rearranged the robe, so his cock wasn’t staring at her. She sat on the footstool, so she was between his legs.

Marty watched her face as several expressions crossed it. She was fiddling with something in her hands and seemed to be trying to come to a decision about something important. She looked up at him, and he waited for her to speak.

She sighed “Shit, I don’t think this would be so hard.” She looked down at her hands again and then back at him. “Open your hand?” she asked.

Marty opened his hand, and she placed a ring in it. His hand tingled where the ring sat. He pulled it closer and picked it up with his left hand. He looked at the ring and realised it was similar to hers. I did have two different gems, and the band seemed wider like for a man.

“You have two rings?” he questioned.

She sighed. “Yes and no. They are a bonded pair. What do you feel when you took hold of it?” she asked, looking at him pensively.

She seemed a bit wound up, and Marty wasn’t sure what she was trying to tell him or expected from him. He lifted the ring and looked at it again. “Well, it feels warm rather than cold. It tingles and...” his voice trailed off as he lost track of his thoughts.

Mary’s hand shot out and stopped him. Marty blinked several times and looked at her, confused. “Bad ring,” she said. “He has to know what it means first.”

Marty focused on her. She had snatched the ring from his fingers. He had wanted to put it on and felt cheated. He shook his head and looked at her again, “What just happened?”

“It wants you. It’s the first time it has wanted to go to someone in many, many years,” Mary said, looking at the ring. She felt it was sulking, which was absurd. But then again, the rings did have a way of letting her know how they felt.

“The rings are bonded if you had put it on you would be bonded to me because I wear the other ring. No, I can’t do it. It’s not fair. I’m eighty-one, and you’re only twenty-seven.”

“We are worlds apart in experience, and you don’t want to be bonded to an old woman like me. Go home, Marty, forget you ever met me. Find a good woman and live your life,” she sobbed.

Mary got up and ran from the room.