Chapter 6

Marily marveled at her unconcern in dressing before the two men, each of them watching her, Peter taking her brassiere and panties and smiling and tossing them aside and telling her that she didn't need them, wouldn't need them the rest of the week-end. She felt strangely satisfied, somehow calm and peaceful. She wanted to draw the whole world to herself and embrace it, hold it in her arms and stand and caress it.

She meekly let herself be led out of her own home by Peter and Hans and across the patio to the next patio and into his house. She thought at first that the party had somehow broken up, that most of the people had gone home. There were only four people in the living room, each of which Peter and Hans greeted profusely and spoke in front of her of her accomplishments and beautiful body. She blushed deeply.

Roy, a middle-aged but still handsome man said, "Peter, fix the drawing so that I can be with Marily." He laughed, slapping Peter on the back. Marily was horrified. The idea of a drawing in which she was the prize did not set well with her. She turned her back on them and started for the kitchen. Peter was just behind, took her in his arms and apologized for Roy's 'crudeness.' "He must have forgotten that you are here for the first time, Marily. I'm sorry." He held her in his arms and kissed her lightly, then, "Come on, let's make drinks for everyone. We'll have everyone in the living room in..." he looked at his watch, "exactly seven minutes."

It took just about seven minutes to make the drinks. Marily was aware of the increased noise and conversation in the other room, the one she had left shortly before. She hoped that she wouldn't be timid about facing them, prayed that what Peter had told her about Vivian not minding would be true. She knew that that would be her who was married to Peter.

Peter kissed her on the nose, then put a tray of drinks in her hands, said, "O.K.?" and then they went back to the living room. Marily heard Vivian's voice above everyone's and hesitated, then took a deep breath and walked into their midsts.

"Oh, what a lovely creature and all the time for nearly two months living and being next door and all kinds of doubts assailed me about asking her over and Peter, you sly dog you, and we're all ready and the second and last evens are made up and we'll all drink and then we'll draw and it is a good idea which is Peter's that we re-assemble and hope and speculate before the next one so here's to all and one."

Vivian stopped talking long enough to swallow a small amount from the glass that Marily had served her. Everyone joined in the toast, all of them drank deeply.

The concoction was delicious, Marily decided, drinking hers hesitantly at first, then taking more each time, enjoying the faint burning and soothing sensation that it gave her. She wondered what was in the drink that she had never tasted before, but then she decided that she didn't care. She held out her glass for a re-fill when Hans passed among the guests and replenished their glasses. She smiled warmly and secretly to Anna. It made her feel good.

Suddenly Anna, Han's wife, started toward her. Marily had almost forgotten about her. She had the impulse to turn and flee, but she couldn't. She stood still and the nerves that controlled her to move suddenly froze. She tried to return the smile that Anna gave her, but it was impossible.

"Well, Marily, welcome to the club. Was Hans a devil with you?" Her green eyes were fastened on Marily; her smile was genuine and sincere.

"I... no... I don't..." Marily stuttered, suddenly angry with herself for her own stupidity. She had never been so embarrassed in her life.

"I understand, Marily. There is a first time for everything. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so blunt. Let's sit down." She took Marily's arm and guided her to a chair in the dining room. "Look," she said, sitting her beautiful self onto a straight-backed chair, "I understand that I'm to be instrumental in helping your husband to join. Tell me what he's like."

Marily's thoughts, suddenly directed to Fred, caused her to laugh, and relax. "I don't know what to say, really, Anna. We've been married two years and..." she hesitated, then continued, feeling the sincerity of the woman sitting there as though it were a physical presence. "He's very conservative. And he's not... well he really doesn't seem to enjoy sex. Not like Peter and... your husband." She blushed deeply, her face suddenly burning like fire.

Anna laughed softly, patted Marily's arm. "I know what you mean. Hans was the same way. I don't suppose either of them bothered to tell you, but I joined the club before Hans did. Our marriage was on the point of breaking up, Marily, and then we found this. I used to be a legal secretary in the same building with Peter. He introduced me to the club, then arranged for Hans to come in. They have become very good friends, as you can see." She smiled and tilted her beautiful head and looked at the two men, standing tall above everyone in the room, laughing and joking with each other.

Marily couldn't find words to express her gratitude to the lovely Anna. She couldn't believe that she could ever come to be as self- assured, as self-contained as Anna was. She could find nothing to say to her; she felt that anything she might try would sound stupid and awkward. She remained silent and listened to Vivian.

"Marily, Marily where are you you lovely creature come and you are first no matter what anyone says about anything and the small amount of cheating that I'm doing she's our very special guest and..." She babbled on, coming to Marily and holding out a box in front of her with small pieces of white paper, folded, inside it. "Take your pick, Marily, but just one and then we'll announce the number and then we'll watch the man scramble for the matching odd or even." She smiled at Marily.

Marily's trembling hand reached into the shallow depth of the box and took a piece of paper from it. She didn't know what to do, what was expected of her. She got the general idea that she was to read the number as Vivian went on talking, never stopping, never seeming to need to breathe like other humans did. "... Read it, Dear, for all to hear." She ran down and stood silently waiting for Marily to read the number from the slip of paper.

"Thirty-three," Marily whispered, frightened of the number for some reason, alarmed that she was suddenly the center of attention.

"Thirty-three, thirty-three," Vivian sang, turning back into the crowd and passing among them the box so that they could draw. Marily turned to Anna for help and an explanation.

"Oh, you've never done this before. I forgot. Vivian or Peter should have explained it to you. You have an odd number, so that whoever, rather whichever, man gets the even number in the thirties will be your companion for the rest of the evening. We're just trying this system. We used to draw only once in the beginning, then return the slips to the box. But, for this week-end we're trying something new. I think I like it."

Anna sat, smiled at her, and opened her own slip of paper. "I'm very lucky, Marily. I got number forty-five."

"I don't think that I can just be selected by a strange man and... just leave with him in front of all these people," Marily said, taken aback by the brashness of the whole idea.

"Oh, no, it's not done that way. You'll find that each room upstairs is numbered, say ten, twenty, thirty, etc. You just go there when you feel like it. Excuse me, I want to talk to Hans." She smiled, stood and walked away.

Marily knew that she was going home. She suddenly felt the overpowering need to be away, to get her thoughts in order. She stood, deciding not to say anything to anyone, just to slip out the back door and go to her own house. She just wasn't up to what was expected of her. She got as far as the kitchen. Peter stopped her by taking her arm.

"Let me get your drink for you, Love," he said, taking her empty glass from her hand. He went around the small breakfast nook and opened the refrigerator and took the full pitcher from it, poured her glass full to the brim, did the same with his own, then handed hers to her. He kissed her lightly, just brushing her lips with his. "Marily, we have everyone here this week, which makes it a little crowded, so I volunteered your house. I felt that you might be more at ease there so thirty is your bedroom. O.K.?"

"Peter, I... can't. I mean... I was just going home now. I... I don't know how I'm ever going to face Fred." Suddenly she was crying, then just as suddenly she was in his arms, against him, he protecting and soothing her with his hands and strength.

"Baby, I'm sorry. I guess we're too much for you, coming all at once--no pun intended. I'll take you home," he said, leading her out the door. He took her to her own house. Marily couldn't stop crying. Peter soothed her and helped her into bed, kissing and touching and patting her; he placed her head gently on a pillow and told her that he would be back, for her to just relax, and finish her drink. He kissed her and left.

Marily lighted a cigarette, sipped at her drink and her tears gradually subsided. She put out the cigarette, then sank into the bed and dozed. She was awakened by deep throated laughter, heard the tread of feet in the hallway, then looked up to see Peter standing in the door, his smile showing to perfection his white teeth; his arm was around the shoulders of Roy.

"Marily, look who I brought you. A real prince." They advanced toward her. She shrank back into the bed, a feeling of utter hopelessness overpowering her. She had thought that Peter liked her, had even hoped that he loved her as she did him, and now she was horrified that he would bring in another man, to her bedroom, to enjoy her as he had done only a short while ago. She was suddenly deeply hurt.

Peter knew instinctively what was going through her mind. He went directly to her, took her in his arms in one sweeping gesture and kissed her profoundly. She responded without wanting to, clinging to him, his hot mouth burning hers, wanting to hold him so tight that he would never get away.

Marily soon was lost, caught up in the ecstasy of Peter's love. He felt her need for re-assurance, knew that he alone could provide it for her. He held her close to him, kissed her mouth, her eyes, her nose and fondled her breasts. He did find time to motion to Roy to get undressed and into the bed.

Marily felt the bed sag on the opposite side from where Peter's weight was, but for some reason--because Peter was there and was holding and kissing her--it made no difference. She had begun to feel the fires inside her building again, had started to need badly Peter's hard love inside her. Peter eased himself from her arms, gently and with concern, and said, smoothing his hand over her forehead, "Marily, be good to Roy. He is a good friend." He saw her brow wrinkle, knew that she was becoming frightened again, so he said, "Roy, hold her, she's a bit shy this first time."

Marily felt herself being taken into the arms of the total stranger who was in her bed. She wanted to resist, to cry out, but Peter was asking her to do this, for him. She couldn't sort it all out in her mind, but she knew that she would do whatever he wanted her to do, so she let herself relax in the arms of Roy. She was instantly aware of his nakedness, against her, the length of her legs; she could feel the hair on him. It bristled against her.

"Kiss her, Roy," Peter said, softly, withdrawing himself totally from her.

Roy did. He took Marily to him, then put his mouth onto hers, pressed his lips into her and ran his hand down her back, over the white mounds, the naked buttocks, delighted in the softness of them. He wanted to rush himself into her, to kiss and fuck and plow and pump, but he held himself back, followed the advice Peter had given him on the way over. He took it slowly, exploring every delicious curve and crevice of her, from her neck to her thighs.

For both of them, suddenly and together, they realized that Peter was gone. He had been there for Marily, his presence lending credence to what she was doing because she was doing it more to please him than for her own pleasure, watching and guiding her. For Roy he had been there as a warning to him to follow his instructions and not frighten or scare the girl. Then, he was gone. Neither of them had heard him leave or had been aware of his departure. Realizing this fact, they laughed together, Marily shyly, then more forcefully, along with Roy,

Roy wasted no more time. He knew that Marily had accepted him, wanted him, so he moved his body onto her and began to kiss her in earnest, his mouth pressed into her, his tongue over her lips and between her teeth and into her mouth and back, then withdrew it slowly, almost all the way out and felt her hold on it, her refusing to let it get away from her. He ran it in and out of her mouth, gently, then more quickly, and delighted in her response.

Marily felt his hardening on her stomach, felt his tongue probing impatiently into her mouth. She had taken it, liked the feeling of it, and sucked it into her. Then he had started to withdraw it, she felt, and that she did not want, could not give up the pleasure it gave her. She caught it with her teeth before he could deny her its pleasure. She moved her body slightly upward, pressing her soft white stomach into his rising prick, loving the hardness of it.

Roy squeezed and massaged and tore at her buttocks, felt her squirm and raise up to press into his ever lengthening hardness. He pushed down into her stomach, wanting to slip into her soft pink cunt, but knowing that he would not, could not, as yet. He moved his mouth from her, kissed her chin, then moved his body slightly so that his head was above her beautiful, firm breasts. He kissed one, then the other, then licked them with his tongue, feeling the sensations that he caused there flicking into her body then out again to the surface and onto his.

He kissed and bit and slavered like a child at her tits, then put his mouth over the nipple, sucked and worked it with his tongue until he felt it spring to life, bursting to hardness and rigidity against his tongue. He worked at both of them, could feel the quivering that his hot mouth caused.

Marily could not control her feeling, her response to Roy. His sucking and biting and teasing of her breasts, then her nipples, sent strange, uncontrolled electric pleasure through her. She wanted to push them into him, make him take the whole of them in his mouth to bite and suck and burn her. She grabbed his head with her hands and looked at him, at the top of his busy moving head. His hair was streaked with silver gray and it was soft and silky under her hands. She loved the color of it, the softness of it, and the pleasure it gave her to push him onto her. She moved her hands to his muscled back, ran them the whole length of it, then back to his head. She felt his pole like prick on her stomach, wanted to spread her legs and suck it into her burning cunt. But, she didn't want to be forward, to have him think that she was like a common whore. She would just be patient and make herself enjoy and appreciate his busy mouth on her breasts.

Roy moved his mouth from her breasts, moved his head down her body and kissed the softness of her stomach where only a minute ago the hardness of his prick had lain. Her hands still pressed down on his head, felt like butterflies on his back, and he continued on, taking small bites of her flesh in his teeth and feeling her rising up to meet his every action, kissed her lower stomach, just above the soft mound of her vagina. He liked the feel of her soft, sparse pubic hair on his chin.

He took her legs, moved them apart, and moved his mouth down to her cunt. He spread the soft, hair-lined lips with his fingers, then probed gently around them with his tongue. He was awarded by the pressure of her hands on his head. They drew him forward with all their strength. He pushed his tongue on into the soft pinkness, then withdrew it and started the same process all over again. He heard her moan, starting low inside her chest then traveling through her, somehow emitting itself from her throat and changing into a higher note of sensual anticipation.