Chapter 4: Whither

Sylvia Jennings thought that George was utterly transparent. Intelligent, yes, but she could read all his thoughts from his actions. She soaped herself slowly under the shower and thought about him.

For all his talk about ‘celebration’, for example, he wanted morning sex. He thought that spoiling her the night before would get her in the mood this morning. And, of course, he was right. Not that getting her in the mood took as much effort as he put into it. She enjoyed the sex, and she didn’t try to hide that from him; but she enjoyed the spoiling as well. Maybe ‘transparent’ didn’t even apply to that; the first time or two he wanted to skip the night before to enhance morning sex, he’d stated that explicitly.

He sure wasn’t being explicit about his job prospects, though. Was she supposed to ignore that he was getting his Ph. D. in a few days? No. She was going to the ceremony. Was she supposed to be ignorant that he would have to get some sort of work? Maybe. People like George didn’t connect working nine-to-five with having food on the table the way her family did. Was she supposed to be the one adult in the USA who didn’t know that there was a draft on? They watched the nightly news together.

Anyway, he would be leaving Boston, leaving the USA if his job prospects in Canada came through. Did she want to go with him? And keep getting this spoiling? For that matter, she’d trade her teaching career just to get the sex. Did he want her? Well, she’d find out.

And she had a lot of money saved up. She put out half their joint expenses, and got a little more money busting her ass in school every day than he got from his trust fund. She had car expenses and spent more on clothes than he did, but he paid tuition. He also paid restaurant bills when he took her out. So, she couldn’t spend more of her money on rent, food, etc. than he could afford to spend of his.

Of course, next year, he would be getting a salary instead of paying tuition. She’d be waiting tables again. Still, her contribution could match his for a long time. And he could be reasonable; if she started running out, she’d explain the situation to him. She’d held back so he wouldn’t run out. If she knew George, he was more likely to offer to pay more than half than he was to demand that she go broke. He’d bought the food for the dinner the night before out of his pocket money, for instance, not the food budget.

Anyway, George was waiting. The bed was waiting. Breakfast first, flavored with anticipation. George had cooked breakfast, a special one.

“Sit and drink your coffee,” he said. “I’ll fix your eggs. Sunny side?”

“Sunny side. Just one. You’re spoiling me.”

“I was up first. Celebration isn’t spoiling; habit is spoiling. Anyway, you’ve cooked me more meals in the last month than I’ve cooked you in the last two years. Am I spoiled?”

It was a miracle that he wasn’t, wasn’t quite. And it had nothing to do with her actions. “I take the fifth.”

He smiled at that. The man had his faults, but he could laugh at himself. He could cook, too. He put a fried egg and two slices of bacon in front of her.

She let the anticipation build during breakfast and as she brushed her teeth. He was in bed when she came out, and she decided to tease him. She took a supply of underwear out of her dresser and started back towards the bathroom.

“Why don’t you come back to bed,” he said, “instead?”

“But I think I’ve had enough sleep,” she answered.

“But have you had enough exercise?”

“I can get my exercise outside.”

“We’d scare the horses.” She recognized the reference, ‘Anything you do in sex is all right, so long as you don’t do it in the street and scare the horses.’ She’d had her tease, and he’d topped it. When she came over to the bed, he got up to take off her robe before kissing her. He caressed breast and ass. His prick pressed against her.

In bed, the caresses continued. His tongue dueled with hers. He kissed her neck. She needn’t worry about hickeys today, but that tickled. She spread her legs to make his approach easier. Finally, he touched her clitoris and sucked on her right nipple at the same time. This sent a thrill through her.

Thrill after thrill followed, culminating in a climax.

“Darling girl,” George said, “darling Sylvia.” She couldn’t answer right then, but she thought he was a darling, too.

As she relaxed and tried to catch her breath, George was kissing her face without blocking her breathing. His hand, however, remained within her.

Soon, indeed, he had two fingers inside. They kept moving in and out in imitation of his prick. Which she needed right then. She felt another climax approaching. “George?” She couldn’t find the words to ask him to finish it.

He responded by kissing her, his tongue moving in her mouth as his fingers were moving in her pussy. She felt the fire rise in her, rise further yet, rise impossibly high. And then it was burning her up.

George sucked her right nipple in the same rhythm as the flame. The flame burned hotter, consumed her utterly. Then it left her, and she dropped. “I love you, Sylvia Jennings,” George said from a great distance.

He was right there when she next was conscious of anything besides herself, though. He was kissing her skin and his fingers were still in her pussy. They started moving when he kissed her breast. She was considering how to tell him of the absolute impossibility of her becoming even slightly aroused again that soon, when her body interrupted her.

It was highly aroused. She tensed, all the sensations coming together. He kissed over her stomach. When the fire was at its height, he moved to the other breast and sucked there in time with the pulses of the fire.

She didn’t really come down. She would relax for a moment, and then his caresses would set her off again. One of those times, he was in her. She felt his spasms meeting hers.

She vaguely felt him remove his weight from her. Then she felt nothing at all. Until her bladder woke her. Luckily, George wasn’t using the bathroom. She couldn’t have held it in. “Good morning,” he said when she came out.

“Morning.” Was it really? Felt like the middle of the night to her.