Chapter 6: Preparations

Bill Pierce made good time on the Evanston Express on Wednesday. It was the exception to his rule that the CTA had a major breakdown every time you depended on it to be on time. It was only a few minutes past 6 when he climbed the stairs to his apartment. And his fiancée, Carolyn, was there -- rather than buried in the library. It looked like they’d get to their premarital-counseling session on time. Her kiss, even if he couldn’t feel much of her body through his coat, was arousing.

“Mmm. Everything went well.” And everything seemed to be going even better here. “We have lots of time, really,” he continued, “It’s not 6:15 yet. Still, shouldn’t you get your coat on? Better to have the extra time to dawdle at the restaurant.”

“We’re not going to a restaurant.” she replied. “Wait two minutes, and I’ll have dinner on the stove. Wait here.” She bustled into the kitchen. He waited there, obedient to orders. Still, what sort of dinner could be cooked and eaten in a little more than an hour?

“It wasn’t even two minutes.” He said. Actually, he hadn’t looked at his watch, but she’d been really fast. “You’re remarkable, but what can you cook in that little time?” Whatever it was, he’d eat it. His feelings for the cook would improve he flavor of the food.

“That wasn’t the cooking; that was the culmination. Now, get your coat off.” When he did, the kiss was longer. He could feel her melons press against his chest and the rest of her sweet body against the rest of his. Dinner, when she served it later, was quite special. She served lamb chops, rice that tasted delicious, and a salad. She also served asparagus, but he’d let her eat that.

“This is delicious,” he said. “If I wasn’t already engaged, I’d propose to the cook.”

“Too late. I’m engaged.”

He smiled. “Two ships that pass in the night.” And, at the end of dinner, “You cooked. I’ll wash.”

“Do you know how to clean off a grill?” She’d raised a practical problem. This was the first use that grill had seen since he’d rented the apartment.

“No. Maybe you can show me. It looks like that one will be used.”

“Let’s let it cool down.” Carolyn hit the books while he washed up. He stayed out of the bedroom until practically time to leave for the church.

There, Jake ushered them into his office and got down some data. Carolyn was 25. Then he sat back and got to the serious stuff.

“Each of you have been telling me about yourselves. Now tell me about the other. What would you say is your greatest compatibility as a couple?” That was a poser. Luckily, he called on Carolyn first. She didn’t seem to have thought any more about this than he had, but by the time Jake turned to him, he’d an answer ready, if not a great one.

“Well ... She’s a woman, and I’m a man. All the best marriages start that way.” Jake didn’t seem impressed.

“What are your thoughts about children?” Jake was looking at him, perhaps having given up on Carolyn’s answering anything, perhaps lobbing him an easy one after the flub on the last. But this question wasn’t as easy as Jake might think.

“That will have to depend on Carolyn’s schedule.” She was a grad student, would become a professor. She wasn’t going to turn into a baby-making machine to keep his arms warm. Jake then turned to Carolyn, and she began considering the question. When he’d given her time to reach a conclusion, and seen that she wasn’t going to, Jake sat forward again.

“Look when were you planning to have the wedding?” he asked.

“February 17, that is...” Carolyn began. Jake cut her off.

“And when was the engagement?”

“Last Saturday.” She was still speaking. Those questions, she could answer.

“Well, I’ve been thinking that you were precipitous. Maybe I was, instead. Let’s schedule this conference for another time. I know your schedule is tight, Bill, and I have church meetings with other men with the same tight schedule. I like to leave Saturdays open, but this is the sort of session for which I keep them open. Can we schedule Saturday, the 20th?”

“It would have to be afternoon,” she said.

“Three p.m.?” Jake asked. That was okay with him, Carolyn looked like it was okay with her, too.

“Saturday, 3:00,” he said.

“And you know what sort of questions I’ll be asking. You can’t plan out your entire marriage in ten days. And, when you do plan it all out, those plans will come unglued. But you need to have the marriage planned beyond the wedding reception. But let me leave you with one thought.

“Sexual attraction is a fine aspect to a marriage,” Jake continued. “It is, though, merely one aspect. It is not a solid foundation.” Well, Jake hadn’t said that he wouldn’t perform the service, but his demeanor suggested that he wouldn’t complain if they cancelled out.

He and Carolyn were deep in their own thoughts as they went home. The kiss when they were out of their coats was as sexy as ever, weak foundation for a marriage or not. That was really his fault, but he couldn’t see parting from her, either.

“What do you think of kids?” he asked.

“I don’t really know. I don’t have to ask you that, do I?” Not really. But he hadn’t proposed so as to get kids deeper into his life.

“No. Let’s get that grill clean.” And they did. This time, she took the living room for studying, and he went into the bedroom. He’d rather watch her, but he could understand that that would disturb her. He took off his shoes and lay on top of the bed. Jake was both right and wrong. They hadn’t negotiated what their marriage would be like, but it wasn’t simply because they hadn’t had enough time. He didn’t want a marriage; he wanted Carolyn. He was offering marriage to get her.

That was a lousy basis for a marriage; so what? It was the only way to get Carolyn in the 20th century. If he had Bluebeard’s castle, he’d simply lock her up. Probably, that wouldn’t work, anyway. He’d get her body that way, and a great body it was, too. But if he put Carolyn in a cage, he’d lose Carolyn. Sure, she needed somebody to pull those jeans down and spank her sexy buns for a few hours until he beat some sense into her, but he wasn’t volunteering. She’d die before giving in. These thoughts chased each other around in his head without getting any further.

Finally, she interrupted those thoughts by coming in for her robe. She went out and into the bathroom. He pictured her stripping and washing. When she stayed after the water stopped running, he pictured her brushing her hair -- nude. When she came in, he hid his hardon while getting out of bed. Ready for the night, and shaved again, he came back. He got the rubber out, put it where he could grab it without floundering around, and got into bed. Carolyn, who could be infuriating in some things, was never coy about sex. She wanted him, or -- at least -- wanted sex, as much as he wanted her.

“Want me to try to get warm before I hug you?” he offered. He hid his hands in his armpits.

“Please.” Well, if they couldn’t touch, they should talk.

“What did you think?” That brought no response. “Of Jake’s questions?”

“Well, he’s right,” she said at last. “We have been planning things, but less a marriage than living together.” That was half the problem. The other half was him. He didn’t want a marriage, really, except for living together.

“Well, the next three years are the budget crunch.” he reminded her. “And we have said we’ll get a larger apartment. And we’ve said you’ll do what’s best for your academic career.” They hadn’t been totally remiss in planning. “If we haven’t said I’ll keep working at Andalusia, we’ve both been assuming it. In case you’re interested, they’re more likely to promote me -- though not soon -- than to fire me.” She might well be as ignorant of his life as he was of hers -- more so possibly, he’d, at least, checked on hers, and he’d been a student if not a teacher in college. She’d never seen the inside of a drug company.

“What’s best for my academic career with the restriction that I stay in the Chicago area.” And that had been a fear of his, that she’d think of marriage to him as a drag on her career possibilities.

“Well, yes. I was afraid that you’d look at that and refuse me.”

“It isn’t that bad. I won’t have to choose between a junior college here and Harvard. If I have a chance at Harvard, and we’re talking decades in the future, I’ll have a good chance at Northwestern.”

“Or the U of C,” he suggested. Why not aim for the top?

“I’ll never get a job at Chicago.” Well, there was no sense in arguing about future possibilities. Maybe he should change the subject.

“I got the take-home figures for next year. That’s still short-term, but we can work out a budget. I’ll read real-estate ads in the Trib on the El tomorrow, maybe the next day, too. That will give us some figures for larger apartments in Evanston. Can you estimate your clothing expense?”

“Look,” she replied. “I’ve been thinking about that. Where I teach will influence what I wear, travel costs, and lunch costs. But the salary has to cover that. Why don’t we just say that I’ll plan on my present clothing expense. If it’s more, it’ll come out of my salary. Nobody will offer a salary which doesn’t cover that much.” That made sense. Any budget that they made now would have to accept amendments fairly soon, but saying that outgo amendments would have to be covered by income amendments at least allowed them to see that they wouldn’t go broke.

“And total up your other expenses -- lipstick and the like.” What in hell did she spend money on? Tuition, of course, and books, but what else? “Anyway, we’ll put together a budget. What else do we have to decide in these ten days?”

“Why I like you.” He sure couldn’t help her there.

“Well, I didn’t know you did.”

“He’s right, you know,” she didn’t respond. “Sexual desire is an insufficient basis for a marriage.”

“So just move in.” But would she give up her opportunities in other areas for that?

“Too late. I showed everybody the ring.” But she sounded like she was joking.

“Well,” he said, “if it’s a weak foundation, we should be sure to give it plenty of exercise to strengthen it.” His hand felt warm enough to him, and he’d communicated all the helpful stuff he’d thought out.

When he reached over, she turned her head. They shared a kiss lying down, and he stroked over her smoothness. But he wanted more contact. When he got up on his side to see and feel and kiss more of her, the sheets slid off his shoulders. She was sensitive to the cold.

“Manage the covers, would you,” he asked. She pulled them back in position. Meanwhile, he kissed her sweet face and felt her smooth melons. Then he kissed her mouth while stroking down across her flat, quivering, belly. She might have brushed her head hair for herself, but he got to comb the hair on her mound with his fingers.

Then he held the outside of her snatch in his hand. He held one hairy lip with his index and middle finger and rubbed the other against it with his thumb. The less pressure he used, the better she seemed to like it. When he teased those lips apart, her groove was nice and juicy. He slid his hand in -- index finger in front, but all fingers held together. He moved his hand up and down slightly while he kissed her ear, down her neck, up her melon. As he moved his mouth up the melon to the tip, he moved his finger up her groove to her nub. He reached both goals at once.

She stiffened. He sucked the tip once, and then licked it while brushing his finger from one side to the other over her nub. When she stiffened still more, he moved his kiss to the tip of the other melon. When he managed to still his finger, she responded by moving her pelvis. Still, delightful as that was, he moved his hand away from her nub and deeper into her groove. He kissed down her melon and up her neck.

“Bill.” She wanted him, and she knew who she wanted. He kissed her. His tongue explored her mouth while his finger explored her groove up to her nub. He brushed her nub and licked her tongue until she went over. Then he withdrew his tongue for fear of her teeth. He kept brushing her nub, though, until she’d gone over completely.

Then he rested his hand on her mound while he kissed her face. The delightful girl was ready for him. When she’d gone over once, his going over without her, always a danger when his dick was inside that glorious snatch, would be a minor blip rather than a major offense. He held her snatch again, moving one hairy lip against the other while he kissed down her neck and up her melon. He kissed the tip while he reached for the rubber. He moved it to his left hand to open it. Then he rolled it onto his dick. Once in position, he opened her snatch and placed himself. He kissed the tops of both melons while adjusting his posture. He slid his dick in through the warm smoothness until he was as far into her snatch as he could get.

“Carolyn.” She responded by thrusting her pelvis up against him. As he stroked in and out of that warmth, she matched his motions with her own. He watched her face as he felt their matching motions move her snatch along his dick. He’d yearned to turn her scowls into smiles, but this scowl was lovelier than any smile. It turned into a grimace just before she went over.

Then, he drove his dick in and out of her clutching snatch as long as he could. He drove in as deep as he could go and erupted.

When he got his strength back, he moved off her and to his left. They nestled in the spoon again.

“Love you,” he murmured.

“I checked about the license,” he continued after a minute. “The major requirement is that each of us get a test for venereal diseases. There are fees and a brief waiting period after the exam, too, so we shouldn’t wait too long. Anyway...”

“Do you ever worry that there’s something we’re forgetting absolutely?” Carolyn asked. Since she was facing away from him, she had to use a normal voice. He could feel it from his position pressed against her back.

“All the time. We get down in the front of the sanctuary, and Jake says: ‘Wait a minute, you haven’t done this. I can’t perform the ceremony.’ Well, we’ll ask him next time. It’s more likely something we haven’t thought about which makes it damn hard to live together.”

“Someday, you’ll have to give me a list of the foods you don’t eat.” She was presumably thinking about living together. “And do you mind adding a pressure cooker to the shopping list, maybe a better pot for cooking rice?”

“Sure, and another wastebasket, I’d think. You probably need one on your side.” His list was getting longer, too.

“Well, your additions are going to be cheaper than mine,” she said. So far, they were. “I thought of a cookbook. I don’t know how to cook many things. But I want to wait until after the ceremony. Mama is likely to give me one.” That seemed awfully parsimonious.

“Well, women have more than one cookbook. Have you ever seen the shelf in Gladys’s kitchen?”

“You’re not marrying Gladys,” she said. “Get very clear about that. I’m not going to exhaust one cookbook in my entire life. I just want to add a few recipes to my repertoire before you get sick of the ones I can cook.” He could point out that he hadn’t asked her to cook once -- well, one breakfast, but that was in response to her saying that she had to cook something. Instead, he changed the subject.

“I’ve thought of something earlier; don’t think I mentioned it. For our weekly food budget, why don’t you think of how many meals you’ll cook in a normal week. Then tell me the number and get a grocery budget to supply those. I’ll figure out the eating-out budget for the other meals, at mid-range restaurants. That total is our food budget. When exam time or something makes you want to cook less, we’ll eat out, but more cheaply. For a girl who asks for Burger Hop and pizza, that shouldn’t be too great a sacrifice.” What he wanted, by now, was some kind of a budget. They could make amendments to that.

“Yeah, and break-times we can eat in more, but fancier meals.” She seemed to be accepting a weekly food budget.

“I don’t want to eat out mornings.” Then he thought of birthdays and anniversaries. “Special mornings, if you wish -- so any breakfasts you don’t cook will be my cooking. Four eggs and toast; put that in your shopping budget. I think my weekday lunches can be a separate budget item. No sense in trying to fit that in. Business dinners are another budget item, expensive for the food involved, but worth it for the show.” They seemed to be inching towards a budget, although they were talking without paper and pencil -- without even a light.

He snuggled against her back. He was holding a melon and breathing in the scent of her skin.

He cooked breakfast again the next morning. Carolyn woke up more slowly than he did. Should she cook Sunday breakfasts? Well, maybe, but he might persuade her to celebrate those mornings they didn’t have to rush away with something a lot better than a special breakfast.

“Look,” she asked, “Can I make some more phone calls from here? They sort of involve the marriage.”

“Sure. And that doesn’t restrict it.” That wasn’t really what he meant. “I mean that you can make phone calls, and they don’t have to be about the marriage. Obviously, we can afford only so much on our long-distance bill, but you’re the person who wants to be careful about expenses.” He’d asked her to move in. His only objection was how little she was planning to.

When he got home that night, he found a note:

Pick me up at the church at 8:30.

Great. She was gone. At least she was planning on coming back; at least, when she wrote that note, she had been planning on coming back. He fed himself on left-overs, the sloppy-joe mix and some of the rice. He zapped it in the microwave. He got to watch TV since she wasn’t studying in the next room, but he would have preferred to have her unseen presence. He picked her up at the church, several other drivers – not all men – were picking up choir members there.

“I’m assuming that you ate,” he said after their greeting kiss but before he started the car. “I had some of that sloppy-joe stuff on the rice. Micro-waved, it isn’t a bad mixture.” He was keeping an even tone; after all, she was coming back with him.

“I ate,” she responded. “After all, I have a meal plan. And I had just committed you to more outgo -- A tux and my corsage, I think. You’ve already bought the rings. Mama wants a fancy wedding. I explained that we expected them to pay next semester’s tuition instead. She said that they would cover both.” That was interesting. He hadn’t considered her tuition for next quarter, not even for next year. He’d have to put that in the budget.

“Um, when did I expect them to cover next semester’s tuition?”

“When I was on the phone to Mama.”

“Well,” he conceded, “we’re one couple. You can commit me -- especially for something like that. But what made you leave me so suddenly?”

“Let’s understand one thing,” she exploded. So much for his soft answer turning away wrath. “I’m not leaving you every time I go back to the Residence Hall. I have things to do there. I have things there. I have different courses Monday, Wednesday, and Friday than I have Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. I have to change course materials, I have to change clothes. What I don’t have to do is explain myself every fucking time.”

“You sure you don’t dye your hair.”

“You’ve seen the hair that women don’t dye often enough.” Well, yes, he’d seen the hair on her mound. And, he didn’t really suspect that she was naturally a redhead, but...

“Seen it? Yes. Often enough? No. But redheads are supposed to be the ones with the temper.”

“Well, you lose,” she said. “You got the brunette with the temper.”

“Okay.” Let’s see if she could argue with that?

“I left you a note. I should have been explicit that I was going to eat, maybe. I thought you could figure that out from the time. I’m used to being around people who can see the obvious.” She could argue with ‘okay.’ Carolyn could argue with anything.

“So, I asked,” he said. “I didn’t assume the opposite; I checked. Assuming things about you hasn’t really worked well for me. And we’re going to be married. You’re going to live there all the time. I think that’s what really bugs you, not my question.” It was the only answer.

“Well, I’ll have that as my residence. I won’t be there all the time; you’re not there all the time.” Fine. She had to go to school, study in the library, shop, rehearse for choir. He had to go to work. But when he was out of her presence, he wanted to be near her. It seemed to him that she fled his presence as often as not.

“But, aside from the days you know I’ll be gone, I expect to tell you when I won’t be.”

“And I told you, if not that I was gone -- I repeat that I’m used to people who could have figured that out -- at least when you should pick me up.”

“And I did, didn’t I. Do you want to go home now?”

“Yeah.” So, he started the car and drove toward home.

“Look.” She couldn’t let it go. “I’m an individual. I have to have some space in my life.”

“Well,” he responded, “we’re both individuals. We have, however, agreed to join our lives together. For the life we’ve chosen to have together, you need to do some things to please your school and your future employers. I have to do some things to please my present employer. I think I’ve been flexible about that. Then we have to please ourselves. But it’s more than your pleasing your own damn self. I don’t think I’ve been pressing in on you.”

“You don’t?” She was nearly shouting. “Well, wise up. You press in on me every time we talk.”

“Then, next time, say, ‘This is something your pushing me on.’ Be real. Be specific. Talk about something I’ve done, not something you think I am.” If she had an answer to that, she didn’t express it.

In the apartment, though, her kiss was warm. Their tongues tangled while their hands roamed. It seemed to him that they’d get along fine if they didn’t do all this talking. He suggested sticking to their area of agreement.

“Was dinner long enough ago? Want to go to bed now?” She, however, wanted to keep talking.

“Look, about Jake’s question on children. I’ve decided.”

“Yes?”

“I think I could go with one, but the time has to be settled. A permanent employer will have some sort of maternity-leave policy. Nobody giving you a one-year contract will want you dropping the class in the middle of the semester. So, we’ll have to wait until I’m settled.” One was more than he’d expected to have of his own before she showed up. But didn’t this sound like what he’d said to Jake?

“You didn’t say this last night.” She could have simply by agreeing with him, but he didn’t suggest that. It would never occur to Carolyn to agree with him.

“I just saw it this morning. I think my questions jelled into an answer in my sleep.”

“Last night, what did I say? If he asks me again, what should I say differently?” She digested this. He didn’t wait for her to acknowledge its truth.

“You know, you know more about your field than I do. But you think I don’t know anything about it. I know that wants are infinite while supply is limited. Well, I want Carolyn, lithe, and slender, and active, in my bed every night. I want you to be a baby machine, turning out a new infant for me to play with every year. I want you singing in the choir so I can say, ‘that sweet tone; that’s my wife.’ I want you sitting beside me, with my arm around you down in the pew. But the supply of Carolyns is even more limited than most supplies. I can’t have all of these. I’m not going to abandon you, or even scream, because one or the other isn’t available.” As an adult, he didn’t scream, although she drove him closer than he’d been for years.

“Now, was that what the earlier fight was about?” he continued. She should get clear what they were fighting about. He didn’t mind having fights; he didn’t even mind losing fights. He sure-as-Hell minded having fights when he hadn’t the faintest idea what they were about.

“You really think of me in your bed that way?” If she wasn’t going to deal with his question, he was perfectly happy to deal with this one.

“Sure, and ‘every night’ is a tiny fraction of what I want. But Carolyn isn’t the only supply which is limited.”

“Your desire is limited?” Not quite.

“My ability to perform is quite limited. My desire seems to be limitless. Isn’t that what you say about wants. Anyway, when we’re not making love, after we’ve made love, I can hold you in my arms. That’s another pleasure.” And one, it seemed to him, that she had a habit of denying him unnecessarily.

“Oh, Bill, I like to be in your arms, too.”

“Then why aren’t we lying like that? And, if something more develops, we might just enjoy that, too.”

“My bathroom time first?” She switched suddenly to practics. Someday, they’d share bathroom time; someday, they’d shower together. But that intimacy wasn’t something to push yet.

“Certainly.” And, when he’d had his bathroom time -- including shaving -- she was waiting for him, nude, in his bed, and clearly willing.

“Do you really think of me that way?” she asked while he was trying to warm his hands in his armpits. What had he said? Well he certainly thought of her as sexy.

“Oh yes,” he answered. “You have to know how sexually desirable you are. After all, am I the first man who has wanted you? The breasts, sure. But also the hair. I may have been the first man to ask you to allow me to brush it. Was I the first to want to touch it? And your buns. You must have noticed how guys look at you when you’re walking away.”

“And you don’t look at any other woman’s ass?” That wasn’t what he’d said.

“I never said that. You are especially pretty. That doesn’t mean that all other girls are ugly. I’ve looked at plenty of girls; I’ve only proposed to one ... Warm enough?” He reached out to hold her, avoiding the melons at first.

“Yeah.” She reacted so positively to his touch, and so negatively to his words, that he sometimes thought he should simply touch her and not speak at all. Kissing was even more effective than touching. When he leaned over to kiss her on the mouth, her longue welcomed his. He cupped one melon and palmed its smooth sides. When he got to its tip, that firmed under his fingers. He slid his palm down the melon and then across her soft belly. He stopped before he got to her mound to point out his interest in all of her.

“See? Sure, I’m interested in the destination, but I like it here, too. You’re so soft and firm here. Yeah,” he said when she stiffened her belly muscles under his hand. She was firm, and smooth, and soft, and -- especially -- sexy.

“Now look away from me.” When she did, it moved an ear within kissing range. She reacted to the kiss by turning her head back. He kissed all over her face while his hand combed through the hair over her mound. He stroked the moisture up her groove towards her nub as he kissed her face. He kissed a line from her chin down her throat -- then, up her melon while he brushed over her nub. When he reached her tip, she was already tense. Then she went over.

As soon as she relaxed, he kissed a path down her melon and up her far one. He continued stroking her nub and kissing that nipple again while she tensed a second time. That was so arousing to feel, but even better to see.

“Let me watch.” He’d lifted his mouth off her melon to say this, and he kept his head up to watch her face. She was already frowning, and the frown turned into a grimace as he stroked her nub and watched her face. She looked as if she were in agony just before she went over.

“Oh, Carolyn. Oh darling!” She was so arousing. As she settled down and her face relaxed into a smile, he got the rubber on and moved into position, kneeling between her legs. The darling reached for him!

“Bill,” she said as she took his dick in her hand.

“Yes.” She opened herself with one hand as she guided into her with the other. “Carolyn,” he said as he pushed into the warm slickness of her snatch. He looked at her face while he balanced himself on his elbows with his hands on her melons. She smiled at him.

Her warmth totally enclosed him. Then he moved in and out of her snatch and back and forth above her. He watched her face while he appreciated her smoothness below and the firm touch of the tips of her melons. He clenched his teeth to hold himself back while her face turned to serious, to a frown, to a grimace. If she didn’t soon, he’d cross over alone. Then her grimace turned to agony.

She clutched his dick in crossing over. He managed to hold back while he drove twice more through that clasping snatch. Then he drove deep into her and poured himself out. He grabbed the rubber and rolled to his left. That took the covers, and he had to return them before he took care of himself. He removed the rubber, chucked it, turned off the light, and rolled back against her. She was already in a position for the spoon. He was totally satisfied, Was she?

“Mmm.” She sounded satisfied.

“Mmm. Love you. Do I need to develop more diversity?” Might as well ask.