Chapter 85: Misunderstanding

February 29, 1988, McKinley, Ohio

“Say something, Mike,” Maryam said after two minutes of silence.

“I would,” I replied, “if I had a clue what to say.”

“That’s the second time I’ve left you speechless,” Maryam said with a slight smile.

“You do appear to have a way of doing that. I wasn’t expecting your request, or anything like it.”

“I suppose I should explain.”

“What if we say evening prayers, put Rachel to bed, then make some tea first,” I suggested.

Maryam smiled, “That sounds good.”

“‘Пойдем, Царица, пора наши вечерние молитвы читать!’ (Poydem, Tsaritsa, pora nashi vecherniye molitvy chitat’)” I said to Rachel as I picked her up. (“Come alone, Tsarina, it’s time to say our evening prayers!”)

“I thought you weren’t speaking Russian to her!” Maryam protested.

I chuckled, “That’s actually the first time I’ve done that. I’m not even sure why I did it! I’m also not even sure I declined it correctly!”

“What did you say?”

“Come along, Tsarina, it’s time to say our evening prayers!”

The three of us went to the study, and I opened my prayer book, Horlogion, and Bible to the correct pages. Maryam stood next to me and I held Rachel in my left arm, and we began with the sign of the cross and metanias, completing our prayers the same way. Rachel, as she often did, had fallen asleep before we finished, so I carefully carried her up to her room while Maryam went to the kitchen to put the kettle on the stove, opening the gate on her way.

I put Rachel in her crib, covered her with a blanket Elizaveta had made, then turned on the baby monitor. I turned on the night light, turned off the overhead light, then went downstairs. I stoked the fire and sat down in the great room and, about five minutes later, Maryam brought the teapot and two mugs.

“It needs to steep for five minutes,” she said.

I waited for her to begin explaining, but she simply sat quietly until the tea was ready. She poured some in each mug and handed me one.

“You obviously understood the implication of asking for a second kiss,” she said.

“Yes, though until an hour ago, I was sure it meant a commitment to marry. Now I think it has a more immediate meaning.”

“Yes, and that’s what I want to explain.”

“I’m listening,” I said with a smile, then touched her hand.

Maryam shifted her mug to her other hand and interlaced her fingers with mine.

“First, I need to make a confession,” Maryam said quietly. “Something I told you before wasn’t true.”

“Is this something I truly need to know?”

“Yes,” Maryam replied, “because it will help you understand.”

“Then go ahead.”

“Please just let me say what I need to say before you respond, OK?”

“I’ll wait for you to say you’re finished.”

“Everything I’m about to say I would have told you when you asked for the second kiss, or as we both knew it meant, proposed. When I was fifteen, we moved to Fort Wayne, and I met a boy who was a year older. I wasn’t allowed to date, and he attended a different church, so we’d eat lunch together at school when we could, and sometimes see each other on the weekends.

“One Tuesday, during the Summer after I turned sixteen, we met at the park and he suggested we have lunch together. For some reason, and to this day I still don’t know why, I suggested I make lunch for us. He agreed, and we walked to my house where nobody was home, because my dad was at work, and my mom was visiting a friend from church.

“I made us lunch, and we ate, and when we were about to leave he kissed me. I was completely surprised, as I’d never been kissed before. I had no idea what to do, so I kissed him back. What happened after that kiss is why I never kissed anyone again until I kissed you, and I only kissed you once. That second kiss with that boy led to us going to my room and going to bed together. That was the only time, and I hadn’t kissed a guy since then until I kissed you.”

She stopped speaking, and I allowed a minute to pass before I responded.

“I wasn’t a virgin when I met Elizaveta,” I said. “I’m in no position to judge.”

Maryam smiled, “I knew you wouldn’t judge me about what happened when I was sixteen, but I lied to you, and I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you,” I said lovingly, “but no harm was done. You said you would have told me, but even if you hadn’t, no harm would have been done.”

“But you would have thought I was a virgin,” Maryam protested.

“And yet, no harm would have been done. I can’t be a hypocrite, nor could I hold confessed sin against you. And one thing I’m sure of, knowing you, is that you confessed to falling short of the ideal, just as I did.”

Maryam smiled, “I did, but only after I had my next period.”

“You didn’t use birth control?”

“No. We were lucky.”

“I’m often dense about anything to do with young women, so it won’t surprise you that I’m a bit confused.”

“Have you thought about going to bed with me?”

“Yes, after our first kiss, though I was sure it would occur after we married.”

“And it’s confusing or surprising that I thought about the same thing?”

“Not after you told me the story a few minutes ago. And you told me that story because you were positive I’d refuse if you were still a virgin, short of a betrothal.”

“There are two basic responses,” Maryam said. “Some men would say ‘yes’ because the girl is a virgin, which excites them, while others would refuse in order to protect her virtue. You’re one of the latter.”

“Perhaps, though potentially not for the reason you think. It would be because the young woman valued her virginity, not because I assigned any intrinsic value to it. Does that make sense?”

“It does. My family has very traditional Middle Eastern views, while you are a modern, Western man who respects women as equals. You would marry a girl who was not a virgin and not think twice about it.”

“That’s true.”

“And that’s why I feel it was wrong to lie to you about what happened.”

“Except that in doing so, you were protecting yourself from yourself, so to speak.”

Maryam nodded, “My views are much closer to your views than to my parents’ views.”

“You hid them very well, though I think I understand why.”

Maryam smiled, “Because I very much enjoyed going to bed with that boy!”

“And now?”

“Now? I want to go to bed with you, You want to go to bed with me. There is no reason I can think of not to go to bed together.”

I could think of one, but saying it would make me sound like a hypocrite, given I was ignoring the teachings of the Church with other girls. And if I could hook up with groupies and make love with Oksana, and have a fling with Annette, how could I say “no” to Maryam when there was literally no good reason to do so?

“I’d like a second kiss,” I said. “And I’d like you to stay the night.”

Maryam smiled, drained her mug of tea, and I did the same. She took the mugs and teapot to the kitchen, rinsed the mugs, disposed of the tea leaves, and finally rinsed the teapot. I almost laughed at that, but it fit her personality. And, I realized, after nearly three years, so did what we were about to do when we went upstairs.

Maryam came out of the kitchen, I picked up the baby monitor receiver, then took her hand, and led her upstairs to my bedroom, which was illuminated only by a dim night light. I closed the door, set the baby monitor on the desk, then turned to face Maryam, and saw her smile in the dim light.

“Birth control?” I asked, fully prepared with rubbers in my nightstand drawer.

“I knew what would happen if you asked for a second kiss, so I went on the Pill. I wouldn’t have waited for our wedding night!”

She stretched out her hand and flipped the light switch to fully illuminate the room, smiled, then pulled her forest green sweater over her head and dropped it on the floor. I was briefly surprised at her boldness, but once again, it fit her true nature, where the outward conservatism was her way of controlling the same desires that drove me, which I, too, could control when I chose to.

Maryam removed her jade-green blouse, and the first thought I had was “green all the way down”, as her bra was a slightly lighter shade of green than her blouse. I watched intently as she carefully unzipped her grey wool skirt, stepped out of it, and dropped it on the floor. Her knee-length socks were next, leaving her wearing only her matched set of green panties and bra.

“Your turn!” Maryam exclaimed.

I smiled and pulled my rugby shirt over my head and tossed it on the pile of clothing near Maryam, then removed my sweatpants and heavy socks, all of which were added to the discard pile.

“Sorry they aren’t green,” I chuckled, as I was wearing navy blue briefs.

“Then they’ll just have to come off!” Maryam smirked.

I obliged, tossing them onto the pile, anticipating seeing two more items complete the collection, and revealing my semi-erect member. Maryam’s eyes twinkled, she smiled, and tilted her head.

“Patient is grossly normal,” she said with a silly smile, “though with atypically large genitalia that requires much closer examination!”

A statement like that from Maryam, even three hours earlier, would have shocked me. But in that instant, I realized I’d completely misunderstood her. She wanted to be a cardiologist and cardiac surgeon, and that was no more a specialty for a shrinking violet than the Emergency Department was. Maryam had, for her own reasons, put up a façade, and I hadn’t recognized the truth.

“I think you’re wearing too much to do a proper exam,” I replied with a grin.

Maryam responded by immediately removing her bra and dropping it on the pile, then stripping off her panties, which she tossed on top of the jumble of clothing. The vision of olive skin, small, firm breasts, and a triangle of neatly trimmed black pubic hair was dazzling, and almost instantly brought my “atypically large” genitals to full mast.

“Patient is intoxicatingly beautiful,” I stated with a huge smile. “There is nothing ‘gross’ about her at all!”

Maryam laughed, “I’ve always thought that word was dumb!”

Something else dawned on me about Maryam’s behavior, and that was what I had thought was extreme conservatism with regard to nudity and medical procedures on “private” areas of the body. I had it exactly backwards! It wasn’t that she was uncomfortable because of prudishness, but because of her lone sexual encounter. More and more things made sense that I might have noticed, had I not been a married deacon.

“About that second kiss...” I inquired with a smile.

Maryam smiled, and we each took two steps forward, wrapped our arms around each other, and our lips met for a soft kiss with her breasts pushing into my chest, and my shaft lodged between us. Maryam broke the kiss after a few seconds, dropped her arms, and stepped back.

“Get in bed, on your back please,” she said.

I pulled the comforter down and got into bed as she requested. Maryam followed me into bed, throwing one leg over me, then sitting up, straddled, with her labia on my shaft. She leaned down to kiss me, but this time she parted her lips and our tongues met, causing a tightness in my stomach that usually preceded an orgasm.

As we French kissed, Maryam flexed her hips, sliding her slick labia along my shaft. A short time later, she broke the kiss, sat up, and grasped my shaft in her soft hand.

“There’s lubricant on the nightstand, if you need it,” I offered.

“I don’t think I need it,” she said mirthfully as she rubbed my glans along her dripping labia.

Seconds later, all coherent thought vanished as my glans passed her plump labia and entered her tight, warm tunnel. Maryam wriggled her hips and slowly sank down until I was fully embedded in her. She leaned forward until her nipples just barely touched my chest and moved her lips to mine. As our tongues touched, she began moving, her hard nipples tracing lines up and down my chest as my shaft slid in and out of her.

The pleasure was intense, and I was happy to just relax and enjoy the sensation of her embrace — not her arms, but her tight, wet tunnel on my shaft and glans. Combined with the sexy French kiss, and her nipples tracing along my chest, that embrace was going to lead to an epic release, though not just for me.

Maryam proved me correct when not even a minute later, she moaned into my mouth as her pussy spasmed hard around my dick. She didn’t alter her motions, and her orgasm seemed to go on forever. It did eventually subside, but less than three minutes later, she had another one, which also seemed to go on and on. The sensations put me on a knife edge, and I knew that her next one would cause the release I so desperately wanted.

We continued exactly as we had, and when Maryam’s orgasm was near, I stopped breathing and tightened my muscles, knowing it would intensify my impending orgasm. When Maryam groaned, the first spasm was enough to put me past the point of no return, but I fought it until it overpowered me, sending jets of cum into Maryam. She continued moving, our mutual orgasm seeming to last forever, though physiology meant hers continued beyond the last spurt of my cum.

Maryam finally broke the kiss and stretched out on top of me. I wrapped my arms around her, then wrapped my legs around her, holding her in place, my overly sensitive glans still deep inside her. We lay quietly together until I softened and slipped from Maryam, but she didn’t move from on top of me.

“What time does Rachel wake up?” Maryam asked a short time later.

“Around 6:00am, roughly, but it can vary from 5:30am to 6:30am. Why?”

“How much sleep do you need?” she asked impishly.

“I can nap when you go to the hospital. How much sleep do you need?”

“Coffee will ensure I’m coherent to answer questions during surgery,” she replied. “We’re still Third Years, so it’s rare we get to do anything except routine pre-op and post-op exams and procedures. I can do those in my sleep at this point, just as I’m sure you can.”

“Definitely. What did you have in mind?”

“Well, if this were our wedding night, I’d want to make love all night. It’s not, so let’s just have fun!”

“I owe you an apology,” I replied. “For thinking you were someone who you aren’t.”

“No, you don’t! I purposely put up that façade for my own reasons, not to mention I couldn’t let down my guard at all around a married deacon!”

“It did finally dawn on me that someone who wanted to be a cardiologist and cardiac surgeon couldn’t be a shrinking violet. And I haven’t seen you work, really. I’m going to guess you are assertive and strong when it’s appropriate, but you keep your interior life shrouded in conservatism to keep your focus where it belongs, and to prevent you from repeating something you consider, hmm; actually, I’m not sure what you consider that one-time encounter.”

“Who said ‘one time’?” Maryam asked with a soft laugh. “Teenage boys can be ready for seconds in seconds!”

“OK,” I chuckled, “bad assumption on my part.”

“Three times,” she said mirthfully. “The first one didn’t last very long, as you can imagine would be the case for an inexperienced guy.”

I nodded, “Even experienced guys can have that challenge.”

“Refractory period?” Maryam asked.

“Ten minutes or less the first time,” I replied. “And encouragement shortens the recovery time!”

Maryam laughed softly, “Is that your way of asking for fellatio?”

“I enjoy that as much as the next guy,” I replied with a grin. “And I enjoy cunnilingus, perhaps more than the next guy.”

“Neither of those happened when I was sixteen, so there might be a learning curve! Not to mention the challenge presented by the surprise I had when you removed your briefs!”

“Before we get lost in pleasure for the night, I want to ask what happens tomorrow?”

“I go to the hospital and you nap!” she declared mirthfully.

“Silly girl!” I said, swatting her lightly on her bare butt.

“I go back to being Maryam Khouri, conservative, prim, and proper medical student. I think you understand why.”

“Completely.”

“Sara or the girl from Columbus?” Maryam asked, confirming something I had suspected.

“I don’t know yet,” I replied. “But I’m fairly certain I’ll decide not long after Pascha.”

“Then I think we’ve talked enough! Time to put our mouths to much better use!”

There was no way I was going to argue with that!

March 1, 1988, McKinley, Ohio

Just after 3:30am I had set my alarm for 5:15am so that Maryam and I could shower together before Rachel demanded my attention. When it went off, I reached over and shut off the alarm, and was about to get out of bed when Maryam put her hand on my shoulder.

“Once more,” she requested. “Long and slow!”

We actually hadn’t done that during the night, instead simply playing and having fun. She’d given me an exquisite blowjob, I’d brought her off several times with my mouth, and she’d ridden me three times, using her mouth to get me hard, and clearly enjoying being on top.

I was happy to oblige her current request, which felt more like lovemaking until after she had three good orgasms over the course of about twelve minutes.

“Hard and fast now!” she demanded breathlessly.

I complied and Maryam bucked wildly as I thrust strongly in and out of her, bringing us to a crushingly pleasurable mutual orgasm just two minutes later. We lay together for a few minutes, basking in the afterglow of mutually satisfying sex, then went to the shower. Ten minutes later, having lovingly washed each other, we got out to dry ourselves.

Once we were dry, Maryam stepped in front of me and I took her in my arms.

“OK to be completely honest?” she asked.

“Yes, of course.”

“I love you, Mike,” she said. “I fell in love with you the moment I spoke to you at orientation. Of course, there was nothing I could do about that, as I said, because you were married and a deacon. I don’t think you knew until much later.”

“I missed the signs, but then again, I wasn’t looking for them for obvious reasons. Someone clued me in, but even then, the same impediment existed.”

“I have just one regret,” Maryam said, “but it’s not regret, really, it’s just truth. I’m as dedicated to medicine as you are, and that means that what might otherwise be a perfect relationship is basically impossible. You need something I can’t provide. Well, that’s not true, I could, but I’d have to give up medicine, and I simply can’t do that, nor would you tolerate me doing that for one second.”

“Absolutely true,” I agreed. “I’d no more do that than you would tolerate me giving up medicine. As I’ve said many times, medicine is a harsh, demanding, jealous mistress. Perhaps, if either of us could be fulfilled in Family Medicine, and had two-year Residencies, it might work. But both of us have eight years of intensive training that makes no allowances for anything outside of medicine. It’s easier for me, because I don’t have to deal with pregnancy and childbirth in a way that affects my career.”