Chapter 13B

Our Friday night dinner with Ronnie had a late start because Martha had to stay at Columbia late for a staff lecture. By nine o'clock the three of us were in a diner, with Martha tiredly picking at her food.

Ronnie announced, "Martha, Steven has consented to letting me draw his perfectly proportioned body. So don't make plans for late Sunday afternoon. He's mine for the day."

Martha said dully, "Oh. That's nice, Steven. Wait until you see her work. She's good."

Ronnie said, "Well, Martha, don't get all worked up about it and have a stroke."

Martha said, "I said I think it's nice."

Ronnie said, "I'm excited. I haven't had a really interesting model in a while. And, y'know, I was thinking... maybe I could teach him to pose, and some of the people I know would pay him while he's here."

I brightened up at that, but Martha said, "Oh, why make Steven do all that work while he's on vacation? Posing isn't that easy."

I said, "I dunno, it might be a good idea."

Martha said to me, "You're probably not old enough to register with many of the art schools and it takes forever to process the papers. You'll be on your way to Memphis by then."

Ronnie complained, "Oh, Martha. Look, think about it when you're in a better mood." Ronnie winked at me.

"Okay," Martha said.

Ronnie said, cutting up her lamb chop, "And I hope you get in a better mood soon. I'm already getting sick of you."

Martha said dismissively, "All right, all right. I'll work on it."

Ronnie said, "And I'll be glad when you get out of Columbia and work for a private agency or something. That place detrimental to your state of mind."

Martha said, smirking, "Yes, Mama Ronnie."

"Mama Ronnie says get the heck out of there."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Get yourself married to some successful professorial type and get out of there."

Martha swallowed her soup. "It'll take more than that."

"Oh, picky."

Martha said, "Yes. Very." Martha swallowed again. "I'll get married when you do."

"Yes. Please. From your mouth to God's ears, Martha." Ronnie chewed and then grinned at me. "I'm saving myself for Steven."

I blushed.

Ronnie said. "Look at him. Blushing. It's so predictable."

I smiled politely and ate slowly. Martha married -- now, that was a disturbing thought...

As we strolled home, Martha's mood improved only minimally. In the stairwell Ronnie opened her door and turned to us, asking, "Hey, you two wanna come on in?"

Martha turned to her on the stairs and thought about it. "Well, no, hon. I'm really tired. And it's late, and Steven has to keep up with his workouts, and--"

Ronnie waved her off. "Steven, take the creaky old lady upstairs and put her to bed, and insist that she go to sleep."

I said, "That's a very good idea -- If only she'll leave that paper work alone and listen to me."

Ronnie said, "Knock her over the head and drag her to bed."

I grinned at Ronnie.

Ronnie said pointedly, "To sleep! Maybe she'll be in a better mood tomorrow." Ronnie started to go inside but stuck her head out the door and said, "Hey, Martha."

"What, Ronnie?"

"Call me in the morning."

"Okay."

"Really. I wanna talk."

"Oh, god."

"Martha. Call me."

Martha said gently, "Yes. Okay."

In her apartment Martha stood by the bed while I undressed. She rubbed her eyes and slid her hands down her tired face and said softly, "I'm sorry, hon. Columbia is so discouraging. I don't want you to see me like this, getting the way I was at Memphis State."

I went to her and held her with her head leaning on my chest. She sighed and relaxed. She whispered, "I'm worried."

"Stop worrying about that stuff and let's go to sleep."

"That's not really what I'm worried about. Not that, so much."

"What? Another worry? And what's this new one all about?"

She leaned her head against me. She muttered, "I can't tell you now."

I hugged her. "Then let's go to sleep. You can tell me tomorrow."

"I can't tell you tomorrow, either."

"When?"

"I don't know." She was quiet for a second. And then she wept on my shoulder, but delicately, almost inaudibly.

I held her close, rubbing her back and shoulders. I asked myself: Is crying and weeping by these two women going to be a daily occurrence? I kissed her hair and her neck, and she whimpered.

After a moment she relaxed and said, her voice thick and tired after crying, "Okay. Let's go to bed. I'm sick of thinking. I'm just sick of it."

I lay awake for a while, wondering what the hell was going on with her. I figured she should be getting her period soon. Maybe that was it. There was too much going on in my own head to keep fretting about all the other heads around me. I was making progress; but progress toward what?

I slept until after eight on Saturday and then had another good run. Martha was still in bed when I got back. I was pleased to see her stretch and smile cheerfully.

She asked, "Hi. What's up?"

"Breakfast," I said. "Then Fiore."

"That's my little ball of fire." She sat up in bed and threw me a little kiss. "You were sweet."

I smiled at her.

"What do you want to do today?"

I said firmly, "Nothing."

Martha yawned. "He works for two years to get to New York and he wants to do nothing."

I pointed a finger at her. "I want you to rest. I want to rest, too. You can't compress your whole life into one vacation, and I can always come back again. Vacations are for fun. Vacations are for enlightenment and for expanding your horizon. And vacations are..." I pulled off a shoe. "for fucking."

Her sleepy, happy eyes popped open. "Well! Listen to you!"

I said, "But first, breakfast. And Fiore. And lots of rest."

She said, "And me."

I smiled tolerantly, sitting on the edge of the bed and removing my other shoe. "And you."

She said in the middle of a yawn, "Well, I guess we'd better today, while we have the chance. It's not as dangerous as it was before, and it'll be... that time of the month soon. Then I'll be just perfectly beautiful and charming." She yawned again. "Oh, listen to me. How disgustingly practical."

I took off my sweaty t-shirt. "Well, then, we have the rest of the day to be impractical and do it."

She lay back and beckoned me with a finger. "C'mere."

"Not yet."

"No, c'mere."

I sighed impatiently and shuffled onto the bed alongside her, looking down at her face.

She smiled playfully and put her arms around my neck. She looked into my face with lazy, smoky eyes. "I don't get to hear you say fuck very often. I like it when you say it."

I looked at her.

She prompted gently, "Say it."

"What?"

"Say fuck. Let me hear you say it."

"Fuck."

"No, look at me. Say it."

"Fuck."

She whispered, "Say it slower."

I looked at her and said more slowly, "Fuck."

She put a finger on my lips. "Mmmmm. Nasty boy."

I said firmly, sitting up. "Listen, I'm starving. And I'm sweaty and I need a shower." As I moved off the bed and got stuff together for bathing, Martha stretched again in bed, looking absolutely gorgeous with her tousled hair and naked legs and her bush sticking up in the air.

She said, "You get so aggressive and sexy. Then you hide. Then you get aggressive and sexy again. What happened this time?"

"Lots," I said.

"Steven, you're so mysterious. Sometimes I have no idea what you're really made of."

"Made of?" I chuckled. "What all little boys are made of. Snakes and snails and puppy-dog tails."

"Mmmmm." She grinned and echoed insolently, "Puppy-dog tales."

"Oh, come on. Let's take our shower."

In the shower she was playful and silly and I asked her, "Are you drunk or something?"

She said, "Drunk with rest. Thank you for forcing me to get a good night's rest."

"Well, I needed it too."

She lathered her hands and looked at my eyes and said, "Let's get that puppy-dog tail nice and clean." She grabbed by dick and milked it slowly with soap.

I warned her, "Not yet, now." I said.

She teased, "Well, we do have to get him clean."

I said, "What's got into *you* today?"

She removed her hands and put her arms around my neck and gave my water-drenched cheek a kiss. "You see how different I can be when you just open up and let us have fun?"

I answered seriously, "Yes."

"I wish you'd do this more often."

"There probably wouldn't be much left of me if I did. Nothing left to send back to Memphis except bones and ashes."

Her smile faded. She looked in my eyes and kept her arms around my neck and said soberly, "Do me a favor."

"What?"

"Don't talk about Memphis today. Not today."

As we were finishing breakfast, Ronnie called Martha on the phone. Martha settled on the sofa in her bathrobe. They had been talking for about twenty minutes when I left to get to Fiore's. It was an excellent workout, and for once I was pleased with myself. But I was dead tired when I returned to Martha's. I was surprised to find she was still on the sofa, talking with Ronnie. She hadn't moved since I left for Fiore's.

I set up a dish of chicken salad for Martha and myself and sat at the dining table. I ate for a minute, and when it was evident that Martha was going to stay on the telephone I carried the bowl and a paper napkin to Martha and handed it to her. She mouthed a thank-you and kept the handset to her ear while she ate.

After eating, I undressed to my underwear and signaled that I was going into the bedroom for a nap. She mouthed an okay and stayed on on the phone, so I grabbed the second little Hunter fan she had in the corner and took it into the bedroom and placed it on the window sill and aimed it at the bed. I peeked into the living room. Martha was still listening on the telephone. I got into bed for a needed nap. Martha stayed on the phone, responding now and then in short, cryptic phases I couldn't make out. I dozed off. The next thing I knew, Martha was getting settled into bed in her pajama tops again.

She whispered, "Just stay asleep, hon. A little nap wouldn't be a bad idea. It's starting to rain again, anyway. It's nice napping weather, all day."

I said, "You were on the phone with Ronnie for two hours?"

"Of course. Why?"

"Why didn't you just go down there? She lives right downstairs."

"Because we're girls. We do that all the time."

"Girls do strange things."

"So do boys."

"What do you and Ronnie find to talk about for two hours?"

"Secrets."

"What kinda secrets?"

"You know better than that. Just... problems, that's all."

"Two hours of problems?"

"You know something? I'm glad you're talking more, Steven, but right now you're talking too much."

I didn't say anything. She curled onto her side, facing me, and watched my dissatisfied expression. She said, "Okay. Among many, many other things, she wanted us to get together tonight because she doesn't have any plans. I said no."

"Why not?"

She waited. She said, "I had to think about it."

I sighed. "Think about it? Sounds too complicated."

"It is."

"All right," I said. I laid one hand on her hip and closed my eyes. Outside the window I heard the onset of the quiet, easy hiss of the drizzle. Cars swished slowly down the street. It was very quiet and comfortable and I was pleased with myself that things seemed to be getting so cozy and homey and less hectic with Martha.

She whispered, "Steven?"

"Hm?"

She didn't say anything. I opened my eyes and found her staring at mine, an indefinable but calm pout on her face.

I asked, "What?"

She cuddled her head into the pillow, her eyes still on me. She whispered, "Nothing."

I sighed and closed my eyes, saying, "Girls are so strange."

After a long minute I heard her whisper, "Ronnie said thank you again."

I kept my eyes closed. "When Ronnie calls back, tell her she's welcome."

After a moment I heard Martha whisper, "Did you like it?"

I sighed.

She said, "Tell me."

I said to the ceiling. "Yes."

After a moment she whispered, a hint of worry in her voice, "I did too." Then she yawned and said, "I'm too sleepy to worry about it."

"Me too."

She put a hand on my thigh and said, "This is nice, just taking it easy like this. With the rain outside. It was a good idea."

After a couple of minutes I felt her hand on my leg relax and then slip away.

We woke up after six in the early evening and decided to go out for a quick, inexpensive dinner. On our way downstairs I stopped at Ronnie's door. I looked at Martha and asked, "Want some company?"

She said quickly, "No. Don't. Not now."

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing. C'mon."

As we walked in the soft drizzle she seemed preoccupied for a couple of blocks and spoke little. I asked her, "What's wrong? Your time of the month show up already?"

"No, hon. Don't worry."

"So?"

"I'm still just a little sleepy, that's all." She hooked an arm into mine and smiled. "C'mon, let's eat. Then we can come back home... and eat."

She was playful in the diner and seemed at ease and even a little dreamy. The overcast sky was darkening as we left the diner. Martha wanted to detour through Central Park. "Just for a bit," she said wistfully, "You need to see Central Park in the rain."

And it was a sight, indeed; the lights of the city surrounded the park and the street lamps in the park glowed in the darkening air with a foggy, jewel-box effect. It seemed painterly and unreal. By eightthirty we were on our way back home in the dark, walking along the slick, glistening streets.

As we strolled arm-in-arm, she smiled up at the thin drizzle and said, "This is turning out to be such a nice evening. Maybe you should make up the agenda from now on. My scheduling just runs us ragged."

"I don't know my way around that well yet."

"You're learning, though." She hugged my arm. "You've learned so much in four weeks."

In her apartment I mixed my day's third round of vitamins. Then the brewer's yeast. Then, I decided, more yeast. Then a third spoonful.

Martha asked, "What in the world are you doing with all that yeast?"

"Fortifying myself," I said. I dipped into the jar for the fourth time.

"Good heavens," Martha breathed.

I felt good. I was rested. I was drunk with desire for Martha. I was, secretly, desperate for her. If this was to be our last night for the undetermined length of her period, I wanted to make the most of it.

Martha sat at the table and watched me down the thick brew. She said, "I hope you don't explode."

After the last swig I put the empty glass in the sink and said, "It's dark outside. Let's make it dark in here."

She sat at the table watching as I went through the apartment closing all the curtains and turning off all the lights. She soon got the idea and sat with a coy smile until I finished. The apartment was inky dark. I felt my way through the black, toward her. I heard her clothes rustling. By the time I reached her she had removed all but her panties and bra. I embraced her and kissed her hair and then her temples and reached behind her to undo the bra. It fell from her shoulders with a whisper. I breathed, "Here, in the dark. Let's take our time. We have all night. You feel so good. Did I ever tell you how good you feel?"

She whispered, "Yes. But tell me again."

I told her as she helped me undress -- or, I attempted to. All that came to my mouth was brief whispers: "You feel so good," or You're so beautiful." I tried to say more, standing and caressing her lightly, running my fingers over her nipples and around her waist and along her hips and across her delightful, warm, flexing tush. But the real words, the hot, passionate, desperate words seemed to stick in my throat. After a moment she knelt down and began softly tonguing and mouthing my cock in the dark.

I murmured, "Don't make me cum yet."

She whispered, "Okay."

"I don't want to cum for a long time."

"Okay." I could hear or see little detail in the dark; I focused on the feel of her mouth on me. When I was hard and twitching, which didn't take long, she rose and led me by the hand into the bedroom. We both bumped into things and giggled and then slid into bed together. Martha leaned over me and gave my nipples inner-lip kisses. It went on for a long time. We caressed each other and whispered, her words growing more sensual and arousing. We slid on and off each other lazily.

"Does that feel good?" she asked, running a fingernail along my balls.

"Yeah. Does that?" I asked, running my fingernail along the crease of her still warm, moist derriere until I reached under her and felt wet flesh.

"Ah. Yes."

She moved me onto my back and hovered over me, and kissed my neck, and I said "Mmm," and she licked my earlobes. She whispered into my ear, "I want more."

"You'll get more."

"Steven... you've made me very hot."

"Good."

"No, it's different, it's... I need more."

"Mm. Let's see, what naughty things can I think of?"

"You wanna be naughty?"

"Yes."

"Really naughty, Steven?"

"Yes."

"Steven..." She licked my other earlobe.

"Yes?"

She paused and licked again. "I told Ronnie today not to come over. I wanted you all to myself."

"You'll have plenty on your hands, don't worry."

She licked down one side of my neck. "Steven."

"Yes?"

She stopped kissing me and held her face against mine. "Was it good with her?"

I didn't answer for a second. I said, "You saw me, didn't you?"

"But it felt good? I mean... really good?"

"Yes."

"Nasty?"

I breathed a tiny laugh, remembering. "Yes."

"Steven... hon... I was very excited that night."

"I was too."

She lifted her face and looked at me, smiling mischievously. "Were you?"