Chapter 5: Sharing

When school began in August of ‘77, Andy Trainor enjoyed himself as he had almost never before. His honeymoon week had been lovely, and the next month of being newlyweds alone in Dad’s house for four hours every weekday had been incredibly erotic. Still, those were temporary by definition. Now, he had Marilyn in his arms every night with expectation of holding her every night into the future. And these nights began with sex and ended with a shared shower. When she left him off for class, he knew that they would both return.

Classes were all engineering, and all electronics. He’d read two of the books that summer and was prepared. He didn’t really know the subjects; he still needed the lectures and discussion sections. What he heard in the lectures, on the other hand, was something he had read about. If he was less prepared in the other two classes, he was as prepared as any other student in the class.

Although Marilyn still spent time at her sorority house, she lived with him. She came back every night. She took to leaving him notes he opened when he got back on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday as to what chores he needed to do before she got home. So, he was reminded that she would be home. And the chores weren’t onerous. Vacuuming the living and bedrooms and cleaning the floors of the kitchen and bathroom took less than an hour total.

And the food! She tried to cook when he wasn’t around, although he really enjoyed meals more when he could watch her cook them. Still, he ate a meal with her that she had cooked every evening and for lunch four days of the week. He ate breakfast across from her and drank coffee she had made every morning. Even Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, when she had too many classes to cook lunch, he ate a meal she’d prepared -- usually a sandwich.

When Zeta started pledging again, he walked or drove her to the house and picked her up when the sessions were over. Even though the weather was fine that Saturday, he drove to pick her up.

“Tired?” he asked in the car.

“Not that tired. Really, I feel more exhilarated. We’re done, except for selection, and we did quite well. You can’t select a good pledge class unless they want to look at you. Well, this year, plenty wanted to look at us.”

“I can’t imagine anybody not wanting to look at you.”

“Silly! These are women. They don’t want to look at me! They want to see what Zeta is like. And I think they liked what they saw.”

Well, since she’d said she wasn’t that tired, when he’d gotten her home and kissed, he started taking off her clothes. Whatever the girls rushing had wanted to look at, he wanted to look at her, and he, too, liked what he saw. When he’d removed her clothes, leaving her wearing a wristwatch, a necklace, and two earrings, she left him to remove her makeup. He stripped.

In bed, he kissed her again before kissing a slow trail down to her breasts. She was already juicy when his path finally led him to her vulva. He licked only her labia until she pulled him closer by his hair. Then he included her clitoris. When she writhed, he sucked it. When she was merely twitching, he moved over to kiss her lovely thigh down to the knee.

She said, “Andy please,” when he started up again. Well, she might have been more tired than she had thought. He merely licked her to the point of tension again. Then he moved over her and into her. She was so slick and warm as he entered her, so eager for him as she tugged on his butt until she had utterly surrounded him.

“I love you.” He kissed her hairline.

“You too. Now move.” So he moved, stroking slowly in and out through her warmth. She still clutched his butt, and she pulled him down while she rose to meet him at every stroke. He could feel her get tense as his own lust boiled in his belly. He could no longer hold to the slow pace. Her fingers were clawing his butt, and he was driving in and out at an accelerating pace.

“Andy!” She clasped around him.

“Christ!” He thrust once more into her writhing frame with all his might. Then he pulsed into her while her vagina seemed to be milking his essence out of him.

She looked almost asleep when he finally climbed off her. He nestled up to her and draped an arm across her recumbent form. He soon joined her in sleep. When the alarm rang, she didn’t respond. He turned it off. This was Saturday, and she didn’t have any classes. He got his own breakfast, which he ate in the kitchen while she was still in bed. Since she was still sleeping, he showered alone. Before leaving for class, he raised the sheet and kissed her sweet belly. She stirred but didn’t really wake up.

When he got back from class, she gave him a hot lunch -- mac and cheese with greens for veggies and cabbage for salad. She’d even reheated the greens.

“Eat as much as you want -- no, as much as you can. I can’t face those for another day. I think I’ll throw them away, budget or no budget.”

“Well, there’s no reason to throw them away. You like broccoli, don’t you. I’ll get some at the grocery. Tomorrow, you can have broccoli and I’ll have greens. It isn’t fair that you don’t eat broccoli, which you like, simply because I don’t eat it.”

“Andy, I wouldn’t do that to you.” Marilyn was the sweetest woman, the sexiest woman, the most beautiful woman possible. She was, often, scary smart. She wasn’t always the most logical woman. What would she be doing to him if she did what he said? Depriving him of broccoli? He wouldn’t eat the stuff, not even for Marilyn. Making him eat greens? They’d become his favorite veggie. He’d only had greens that Marilyn had cooked. “Besides, we’re a family. We’ll eat family meals.” He couldn’t quarrel with that.

“Well, leave them in the ‘fridge. I’ll know that they are free for snacking. Would it be a family meal if you served broccoli and I just didn’t take any?”

“Andy, you’re sweet.”

“Does that mean I’m forgiven for taking advantage last night.”

“It was just what I needed. I slept like a log, as you may have noticed.”

“Yeah. Well, I knew that you didn’t have any classes today.”

“I love you.”

“And I love you, too.” He really did. Dad might say that it was all wanting her, and he wanted her desperately, not only sexually but wanted her in his life. But he loved her and wanted life to be good for her.

One thing that he should remember that Marilyn wanted was company. She was all the companionship that he wanted, and before her he’d have been happy to spend weeks alone. She wanted people around her, and he wasn’t enough. With more than 50 girls to socialize with in Zeta, she went looking for others in the married-student housing complex. She thought of him when she did it and invited a pair of physicists to have dinner with them.

Mark and Nancy were fine people. They were studying what he’d merely read about. Nancy, who was carrying a child, had to avoid radiation. That meant that she skipped one lab, but she had special permission for that. He wasn’t sure that anyone who ever wanted children should be exposed, but the risks couldn’t be all that great. Pierre and Marie Curie had had a perfectly healthy, and damn bright, daughter. The safety precautions in those days had been minimal or absent, too.

The couple spoke whenever either of them passed in the parking lot or laundry area, but the friendship didn’t develop much beyond that. He was happy enough, and Marilyn didn’t seem to miss it.

Marilyn asked him to do some calculations for their food budget. They’d bought a vacuum, and that had come out of the food budget for some reason. What was left was enough, however. He sometimes looked at the candy bars near the cash register when he went shopping, but he had a wife at home who provided deeper pleasures.

Marilyn made the point that they didn’t eat Sunday dinner after church, but lunch. Really, except when Dad had decided to go to a restaurant, he hadn’t considered the meal after church as special. Their meals were quick, and then he walked or drove her to Zeta house for a meeting. She skipped one of those meetings, though, when Urbana First had a potluck. She brought loads of the spaghetti which was one of the most expensive meals of what she now cooked. The other members of the congregation appreciated it.

They were now one of the married couples of the church -- the most recently married, but a few included younger women. They had joined as associate members, and soon got a pledge card. Marilyn said that she felt guilty about pledging only $1 a week, but that that was what they could afford.

Another Sunday, she left him a lunch in their home and went to Zeta as guest of the chapter. He ate and washed the dishes. Then he studied for hours until she got back. He didn’t know how long she would take, and he found himself relieved when she walked in the door.

He got up from his books, picked her up, and kissed her. After a minute, she shook her head. When he set her down, she disappeared into the bathroom. He heard the toilet flush. When she got out, she went to the closet to hang up her dress.

“Now,” she said, “do it again.” He picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his hips. Her tongue met his when they kissed. “That skirt couldn’t handle that kiss,” she said, though she’d been wearing a dress, not a blouse and skirt. When he finally put her down, she got on a robe and studied across from him.

“They’re all jealous of me,” she said on a break. And they really ought to be jealous of her, with her beauty and talents. “I have you, and they don’t.” Well, they couldn’t possibly be jealous of that.

“Yeah, sure. Molly asked me why someone as special as you settled for someone as unspecial as me.”

“Well, your sister isn’t supposed to see your best aspects. You’re kind, and you’re bright, but she isn’t supposed to see that you’re sexy. Smart and kind aren’t enough.”

“Sure. Want to get to the sexy part now?”

“Nope. You’ve been studying while I’ve been gabbing. Stick to the smartness. Bedtime will come soon enough.” So they went back to studying. She took her bathroom time first, and when he came back out from his, she was still up waiting for him. He picked her up for another kiss, and she put her legs around him again. Skin to skin was much sexier. The only mirror in the apartment was on the medicine cabinet, which wasn’t much use for watching themselves like this. He carried her into the bedroom and lifted her until he could kiss her breast. She put her hands on his shoulders and took much of the weight. He shifted his hands under her butt so that one hand could reach her labia. She was already damp, and she produced more moisture as he stroked her. When he moved his head from the breast on his left to the one on his right, that nipple was already hard. As he sucked it, he stroked her clitoris with one finger. She pulled him tighter into her so he lost the nipple as his head was pressed against her breastbone.

“Oh, Andy. Now?”

“Yeah. Loosen a little.” When she did, he lowered her until her butt touched the tip of his cock. He adjusted himself a little, raised her a little, settled her down a little more. He was between her labia, appreciating their warmth and smoothness.

“Oh, Andy.”

“Slowly.” And slowly he lowered her. Slowly she surrounded him. “Love you,” he said when he couldn’t go in any farther. He kissed the top of her head while walking over to the bed. He stood with her over it.

“You, too.” She clasped her hands behind his neck. He swayed back and forth, then side to side. The movements of his cock inside her were small and slow, but the sensations were exquisite. Her nipples caressed his chest. He hoped she was feeling something. She stiffened in his arms, showing that she was. Then she pressed more tightly against him, crushing her delicate breasts into his chest. He could feel a circle of softness around the firmness of each nipple.

Then she clasped around his cock and writhed in his arms. His hips swung forward and back without his will, even against his will. That moved him a little in and out but moved her much more. She’d be perfectly safe if he dropped her when he was arching forward, less safe when he was arching back. He managed to lower her to the bed while still moving like that. He rested on one arm while taking deep strokes in and out. She was finished when he erupted.

“Oh, Marilyn. Oh darling. Oh!” He fell to his side, coming out. He was lying with his right leg across her thigh. When he rolled onto his back, he was off her. “Love you,” he managed to say some time later.

“I love you, too. Let’s get into the bed.” And they did, spooning mostly on his side of the bed. She was a darling, a sexy darling.

He would have been content to spend all the time he wasn’t required to be in class in the apartment with her. He kept reminding himself that Marilyn wouldn’t be happy doing that. She, of course, got out to Zeta, but he didn’t want her experience of freedom to be the times she got away from him. He took her to the dances that the university held. She danced only with him and no longer suggested that he dance with one of her sisters, though they sometimes talked with them. At one of these dances, Trish, a sister whose name he actually remembered, came up.

“Marilyn, can I beg a ride home?” She’d been crying, and she didn’t look like she wanted him present. This looked like a girls-only tragedy. He got up.

“Three Cokes?” That would get him away without Trish’s asking him to leave.

“Yeah,” Marilyn said, “and don’t hurry. Something wrong with Ted?” she asked Trish before he was out of earshot. He got the Cokes and a tray. The tray was necessary; he spent minutes watching Marilyn dealing with Trish from a distance greater than the nearest tables. He wouldn’t hear anything that those strangers didn’t -- and not all that they did. While he was watching, another sister came up. They got into it again, and he only had three Cokes. The band was leading into the last dance. Marilyn always said that it was important that they dance the last dance together. If this was going to be the exception, let her make the exception.

Finally, she looked at him. He came over and passed Marilyn and Trish their Cokes. He decided the other sister got the last Coke.

“Thanks, Andy. You’re the nicest guy,” that sister said when he passed it to her.

“That’s for damn sure,” Trish said. “Marilyn, that was the most selfish thing you could have said.” Wottinell was that about? Marilyn was never selfish.

“What?” Marilyn asked. She seemed to be oblivious to her virtues, but she must have known about her generosity.

“That we couldn’t have him.” Well, he wanted Marilyn to be selfish about that.

“Are we ready to go?” Marilyn asked. That meant that this was more important to her than the last dance was.

“I’ll get the car.” When he stopped the car close to the entrance, Marilyn was waiting with the other two there. He got them and walked them to the car. After helping Marilyn into her seat, he opened the back passenger-side door. They both got in, and Trish slid over instead of having him walk her around the car and open that door.

“Well,” the one he couldn’t remember said, “Dick lived up to his name. I’m back looking again. Kathy has been setting up some girls with her classmates, but I don’t want to date a sophomore. Andy, do you have more males than females in your classes, too?” Well, she remembered his name.

“And how! One section has all of two girls in it. But I don’t socialize much outside of class. Getting up in class and passing around your picture might make the teacher unhappy.”

“Andy!” Marilyn said, “Robin isn’t that desperate, and she certainly doesn’t want to look that desperate. You have to find a way for her to choose and then to meet the boy naturally.” Okay. Her name was Robin, and her meeting the boy was a problem. He solved problems. Well, choosing was easy enough. She could wait outside the classroom when the class was beginning -- no! probably when it was ending was better; guys dribbled in, and they could see a girl standing outside watching earlier ones come in. But how did she communicate the choice? Damn! Marilyn wanted subtlety, and subtlety wasn’t his strong suit.

“Okay,” he told her. He’d work on subtlety. If both he and the girl were outside, then she could signal him. Probably, they should have Marilyn there, too. They knew he was married, and meeting another woman would be cause for comment. At this point, they arrived at Zeta House. He walked the girls to the door and went back to Marilyn.

“Sorry about the last dance,” she said when he got in.

“Well, you have to take care of your friends.”

“They’re your friends, too. Trish and Robin like you.”

“I suppose.” They might like him, but they competed with him for Marilyn’s attention. Anyway, she had asked him for a solution. How could they meet? Maybe he and Marilyn could host the two together. A dinner? They could be honest with Robin. They needed an excuse for the guy. Marilyn wanted subtlety, he kept remembering.

“Do you have any space in the food budget?” he asked when they were in the apartment.

“Yeah,” she said. “We’ve been below it every week.”

“Even with guests?”

“We haven’t had that many guests.” But did they have enough slack for guests?

“Well, if you and Robin met me at the end of class on a particular day ... It would have to be a Tuesday, Thursday, or Saturday, wouldn’t it? I really want you there.” That didn’t communicate immediately, but the only explanation he could think of began at the beginning.

“Probably. I don’t know her schedule.”

“Then she could check out my classmates and choose one. If she liked one, I could invite him to have dinner with us. You could invite her to have dinner with us the same night. They’d at least meet. I’d want you there when she made her choice, ‘cause I’d have problems with some girl meeting me. On the other hand, my wife can bring along anyone she wants when she’s meeting me. But it does mean feeding more people.”

Marilyn and Robin decided on the 10:00 a.m. Thursday class. He took a seat near the door and scooted out when Prof. Jansen let the class go. He stood beside Marilyn with Robin standing behind them. She squeezed his arm when she saw someone she liked. Sometimes two or three guys left close enough together that he had to ask for a description later. Robin had chosen Dave, Bill, and Warren.

He invited Dave to the apartment for some home-cooked food. Probably meeting Marilyn would have been reason enough. The meal was chili-mac, and the conversation went pleasantly, but there wasn’t any subsequent romance. Bill was much nicer about Marilyn’s cooking, especially the greens.

“You didn’t learn to cook like this in Chicago,” Bill said.

“Evanston,” Marilyn said.

“That’s even further north,” he pointed out.

“Have some more,” Marilyn said, “please.”

“I shouldn’t,” Bill said.

Robin had met a guy on a house date and wanted to try him out before Warren. They had a little respite. Then she called Marilyn, Marilyn told him, and he invited Warren to dinner. Each of them seemed pleased with the other, and he and Marilyn had a short rest in their entertaining. The rest wasn’t very long, since Trish now wanted to play, too. She and Marilyn met him Tuesday after the 1:00 class. Trish saw two guys she liked, Barry and Warren.

“No can do,” he said about Warren. “My excuse is that Marilyn wants to do some entertaining. I can’t invite the same guy twice with two different women.” Well, Trish said she preferred Barry anyway. Thursday, he invited Barry to eat dinner with him and Marilyn the next Tuesday. The meeting seemed to be a success.

“Please come home for Christmas,” Dad wrote. He included two train tickets. The old man could be manipulative as hell, but he had a sense of fair play. If you did what he wanted, he paid the bill.

“Does your wife have Robin’s phone number?” Dave asked him after class on Saturday.

“Sure. Robin lives in the sorority where Marilyn lived for 3 years.”

“Do you think you could ask her for it?” He’d feel awfully stupid doing so.

“I already know it.”

“Oh, of course. You called her there. Could you give it to me? I’m not going with Sophia anymore.”

“Sure. He wrote it down for Dave. “But maybe you shouldn’t call before Monday. They are in the middle of a big project.” He barely saw Marilyn during Hell Week. He didn’t think that Robin would have time for a date with Dave.

“Thanks for the advice.”

He’d forgotten that conversation by the time Marilyn dragged herself home that night. She had the car for Hell Week.

“You’re sure,” he asked her, “that it’s harder on the pledges?”

“Hell Week is definitely harder on the pledges. It’s harder on the other actives but me, too. Somebody has to wake the pledges at 3:00 a. m. I’m out of that, thanks to you.” He wasn’t sure that anybody had to do that stuff at all.

When she asked him to come into her after she’d writhed for the first time, he did immediately. She normally had the capacity for many more lovely orgasms, but he wasn’t sure that she would have the strength that night. In the morning, they didn’t return to bed but did share a shower. She dropped him off after church and returned to Zeta House. She was even later when she got home from that meeting. He studied while she was gone -- worried, too, but what else did he have to do but study?

“Long day?” he asked when she came in.

“It’s over. Hell Week is over, my last Hell Week.”

“You really sure that it’s harder on the pledges?” He was repeating himself, but he had trouble believing it.

“Believe me. It’s much harder on the pledges, but some of us actives have to be present at any time to keep being hard on the pledges. Ready for bed?”

“Yeah.”

“Not as ready as I am.” From her tone, she was ready for sleep, which wasn’t the first thing he connected with ‘bed’ these days. Well, she’d promised to sleep in his arms. Tonight she would. He put away his books and joined her in bed. He cuddled her and kissed the back of her head. “Andy?” she asked. Did she think he was some sort of rapist?

“Hush. You’re tired. Sleep in my arms.”

“You are the nicest guy, ever.”

“I love you.” And, held in his love, she soon slept.

Their shower the next morning was even quicker than the one Sunday had been. She dropped him off for class. She had the car MWF, and the weather was bad enough that he preferred getting there an hour earlier to walking. He walked home for lunch, though, and made his own PBJs. She did her own shopping on the way home. She made them hamburgers. Those always reminded him of the first meal that she’d cooked for him -- and the wonderful afternoon that had preceded it. Since her mother had put her through hell soon afterwards, her memories were probably not as pleasant as his. So he didn’t mention his. She was behind in studies, and so -- although he hadn’t anything to do for his classes except read ahead -- he didn’t suggest quitting until she was finished.