Chapter 4

As soon as the two vehicles were on the road, Marion started something actively dangerous - trying to divest herself of her sports bra while driving. Her outfit, a golf shirt with the cleaning company logo over black pants, wasn't going to be conducive to the kind of access she HOPED Aaron wanted while they were petting - anything she could do to ease the way was indicated. The thing fought her every step of the way, and she had barely gotten it off and through the arm of her shirt when they pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex. Getting the shirt tucked back in neatly wasn't going to happen; she got out of the car, throwing the light jacket over the disaster, and rushed to meet Aaron at the door.

Aaron's apartment was a two-story townhouse affair, part of a four- plex. Downstairs, there was a living room, dining room, and kitchen and a small powder room; upstairs held a bath and two bedrooms. Marion immediately noticed that the living room was done up as more of a study; there were several tall bookcases, and a rather large desk/workstation setup along the wall holding the staircase. This kind of crowded the small couch (love seat?) and a worn recliner, situated around a small, glass-topped coffee table, all of which fronted the entertainment center, which, though not huge, was obviously thoroughly modern. The wall switch controlled a lamp over by the workstation; Marion was willing to bet that the lamp that Aaron turned on low on the end table next to the couch saw little use. Aaron turned to Marion, taking her jacket, and murmured, "I know that we've discussed alcohol, but a single glass of wine..."

Marion nodded. Suddenly, she was nineteen again, alone with a guy and jittery. Aaron, seeing the nervous expression on her face, queried, "Red, or white?"

"Um, white," Marion replied. "Red gives me a headache."

"Sulfites," Aaron made a moue of distaste, "have ruined red wine for so many... I have a nice pinot grigio... ?"

Marion nodded brightly (although she'd never had that variety), and Aaron headed for the kitchen, hoping the bottle he had on hand was still good. While he decanted two glasses of wine, Marion took the time to re-tuck her shirt, suddenly realizing as she re-zipped her trousers that she really didn't want the thing to even BE there... And for the life of her, she couldn't think of any not-so-obvious method of granting Aaron access to the things she WANTED him to get to in that damned outfit!

Aaron detected her sigh of frustration as he re-entered the living room, glasses in hand. "Something wrong?"

"Yes, but there is nothing to be done..." Marion sighed, taking a glass and parking herself on the right end of the couch.

Aaron stood a moment, his glance shifting between the empty space to Marion's left and the recliner to her right, before gingerly seating himself on the couch. Marion was willing to bet he'd never used it. She covered her smile by lifting the glass to her lips, then her eyes lit in surprise, "Nice! Fruity!"

Aaron smiled. "Yes, the pinot is a nice wine. A fine combination of flavors..." 'Christ! I'm going to have to make conversation? We're ruined!' he worried belatedly, as he took a sip himself.

But Marion, fortified, dove in at this point. "I-I don't know how to say this..." she began, "How long has it been for you?"

"Since I... had sex?" Aaron clarified. Marion jerked a nod. "Several months, from a 'professional'. Several years, since I've been with anyone with whom the relationship wasn't... commercial."

"Me, too," Marion supplied. "With me, there haven't even been 'professionals', only the occasional toy..." She blushed. "My daughter and her boyfriend have a... really healthy... sex life. I haven't interfered - in fact, I helped them start out - but it's like sitting through a triple feature of porn flicks, tied to a chair..." She caught his eye and held it, "You're right - we've covered a lot of ground... Neither of us has anything to prove..."

Aaron held up a hand; there was no reason for Marion to continue to embarrass herself - he got it. "Wait here," he admonished, rising. Marion watched him ascend the stairs, wondering what he was up to.

At the heads of the stairs, he turned left, into his bedroom. He didn't make the bed, but he arranged the covers and neatened it, then he went to dig in his closet for something he possessed, but seldom wore - a terrycloth bathrobe. It took a moment, but he found it; aware that he had the same problem she did, he also realized that for him, it wasn't as important. He draped it over his arm, and descended the stairs, moving to stand over her. "You might want to put this on," he offered. "It's the best I can do, I think - and it might make necking a little easier and more enjoyable..." Marion accepted the item gravely, examining it, and Aaron continued, "The powder room is through there," pointing past the dining area toward a previously unnoticed alcove on the right.

Marion held his eyes as she rose and walked toward the powder room carrying both the robe and her glass. She had several options, and nothing was guaranteed, even yet, but if she donned the robe, the chances that they were going to have sex went up dramatically, and both knew it. Marion closed the powder room door and sipped her wine, pondering her next move. Certainly, the golf shirt was coming off; that was a given. It was what ELSE she took off that would set the tone for the rest of the evening. If she left her pants on, Aaron would know he was in for a long and possibly fruitless night. On the other hand, if Marion came out of her panties, that, on top of her other utterances and actions, said 'slut'. But was leaving her panties on really enough of a statement? She sat down and took off her shoes, leaving her half-socks on. The golf shirt came off and was carefully folded while she tested the depth of her nerve. Finally, she stood and peeled off her slacks, leaving the panties on. Laying the clothing atop a laundry hamper, she donned the robe and tied off the sash, grinning as she wondered, 'How long will it take him to find out?' Collecting her wineglass, she composed herself and stepped out, feigning calm.

Aaron hadn't bothered to sit; he'd paced the room, nervous as a teenager. They were SO close! How far were they going to go? And what did it all mean? And who was hunting whom? Thus far, as passive as she had been, Marion had made the key moves that had brought him the confidence to take action to bring them together. Her carefully phrased announcement moments ago had made it clear that she wouldn't quibble at sex; in fact, if things went well between them, she expected it! His latest move had been pretty brave, but she'd accepted it... Given the comments she'd made it seemed like she wanted sex bad - just didn't want to appear too slutty... Well, that was fair... The door opened, and she emerged, wearing the robe and those little footy things; the only open question was whether she was wearing panties under the robe. Aaron decided that she probably was, and would put up a token resistance before he penetrated them; that would throw a sop to virtue while allowing them to move forward. Aaron decided that it was time to insure that they WERE moving forward, so he lowered his glass to the coffee table, met her before the couch, lifted her chin, and delivered their first kiss.

It was blindingly successful. Marion's lips opened instinctively, and her tongue peeked out - and Aaron's chased it all over, starting a border war in which one of them was always invading the other's mouth. This went on for an interval that neither of them could adequately track - too much attention was involved.

Finally, however, they backed up to take in air; Marion's first utterance was a moan of, "Oh, God!" Aaron essayed a wild grin, and his signature reserve departed with it. Collecting her now superfluous wineglass, he pulled in an armload of gently squirming female and commenced another attack run.

This kind of activity was a revelation to Marion; Ed hadn't been one to concentrate at all on kissing - he was always intent on the target between her legs. Aaron's concentration was total - well, no, he let up there, for a sec - Oh, God! Strong fingers closed around her left nipple, gently teasing, and Marion was inundated, the shock wave weakening her knees and causing her to clutch herself to him.

Aaron had freed up just enough attention to slip his hand through the neck of the robe and collect the fleshy spike, wondering at its length and stiffness, then Marion's clutching embrace and her moan into his mouth caused him to leave his fingers on autopilot and return attention to her lips.

In the absence of one sense or feature, Nature often enhances or augments another; such was the case with Marion's nipples. From their perch atop the virtually nonexistent pads of her breasts, they had been known to protrude for over an inch and a half, quivering antennae, begging for a touch. And they were extremely sensitive, too - Marion had been known to approach orgasm from nipple play, alone - not that Ed had ever given them much attention. There had been days when nursing Twyla had been agony and ecstasy, and momentary masturbation afterward (or during, Marion would admit to herself guiltily, if pressed) had brought on orgasm. Thus, it should be no surprise that Marion virtually attempted to merge herself with Aaron, standing up, and her tongue became demanding in its passionate attack! Mere seconds after his fingers closed on the stiff spike of flesh, Marion's panty gusset was soaked from the wash of her fluids the touch generated!

Aaron, more than mildly surprised at her intensity, decided to defeat the robe altogether, working his left hand through the opening and sliding it along her ribs around to her back and up until it tasted the soft skin between and below her shoulder blades. Holding her to him in the crook of his elbow, he swept the hand up and down, caressing the soft skin of her back.

Marion began to thrash, driven by the unformed imperative to touch Aaron's bare flesh, and without a quick means of dealing with it. Subtlety was out the window; Marion grabbed a double handful of Aaron's short-sleeved dress shirt and the undershirt beneath and heaved it upward, untucking it, then drove both hands beneath, bringing them up along his back and pressing him to her.

This action, however, pinned Aaron's right arm between them, something comfortable to neither. It foreshortened the kiss they were working on; when Aaron pulled back, Marion compromised by moving her left hand to his chest, finding a smattering of hair. She dropped her head to his shoulder, sucking in air in great noisy lungfuls through her nose while Aaron devoted even more attention to her spiky nipple.

Aaron decided that it was time to 'play' Marion - explore her body looking for additional erogenous zones - but it was an effort best carried out while more or less horizontal. He glanced at the couch and grimaced - Christ, neither of them was sixteen! Aaron gathered himself and nudged Marion with his shoulder; she raised her head and met his eyes, which he flicked to the stair. Following the glance, she divined his intent; she couldn't hold his eyes, but she nodded, tightly. Aaron, acutely aware that she was embarrassed, held her hand as he led her to the stair and up it.

Marion followed Aaron on autopilot, her dazed comparison of Aaron's and Ed's techniques distancing her somewhat from her embarrassment at her inexorable progress toward Aaron's bed. Even the hand-holding thing was different; Ed hadn't ever been demonstrative at all, in public or private; Aaron's contrasting activity pointed up the differences and revealed to Marion just how little Ed had really cared for her.

Once in the bedroom, Aaron abandoned reticence and assumed control. He pulled Marion in, close enough to capture both of her nipples, then eyed her, and glanced down at his shirt. Marion, electricity arcing between her hot points, managed to divine his intention and began unbuttoning his shirt, her fingers fumbling at the absolutely normal, mundane fastenings. When she'd finished, she slid her hands up and pushed it off his shoulders, sighing in mild complaint at the disengagement from her nipples that this occasioned. Aaron allowed the shirt to drop down his arms, but held it pooled around his left wrist while he pushed the robe off of Marion's shoulders and collected it with his right. As he stepped away, Marion, suddenly feeling exposed and alone, took in her surroundings.

Aaron was in the process of draping his shirt on a wooden valet along the wall; the robe, he then threw over the top. Marion eyed the thing, bemused - she'd been under the impression that furniture such as this was an affectation of the rich. She looked around the room, expecting to finally find Mama's imprint, but, no, the slight (VERY slight) disarray and patina of dust said 'male', clearly - Aaron might have a maid or a cleaning lady, but he didn't have anyone too officious overseeing his domestic arrangement. Aaron caught the look and grinned, "When you're a bachelor, and not domestically inclined, you either succumb to the popular stereotype and drown in your own trash, or you force a certain level of organization. I tried the first method, and couldn't keep cleaning ladies and couldn't find my..." He was GOING to say, 'ass with both hands, ' but he contented himself with "anything." Marion heard the other comment clearly, anyway, and smiled. He continued, "It's not perfect - I just don't like hanging up stuff that has been worn once with stuff that's clean - but I'd have to have at LEAST two of these things, so..." He waved at the closet, where clothes on hangers and directly hung festooned hooks applied to the bifold doors. Marion's smile broadened; yes, that was a TOTALLY male solution...

Aaron stepped out of his trousers and stood there a moment - did he have time to empty his pockets into the tray? A glance at Marion, standing with her arms crossed, looking somewhat forlorn, said, 'no', so he draped them gently, hoping things wouldn't crash to the floor, and moved to re-engage Marion before her nerve left her. He needed something immediate, something to break her out of her self-contained examination of her seriously exposed position, so he stepped in close and applied his lips to her neck. It worked; Marion gasped, "Ohmigod!" and clutched at him while her knees gave way, her body betraying her totally under the touch.

Aaron collected her as if she were a child, scooping her up, rotating, depositing her on the bed, and stretching out alongside her in one fluid motion. And no one was more surprised at the success of the move than Aaron; he wasn't really thinking - just reacting - but it was working... What next? Simple! He continued the movement, almost without pause...

"Huuuuuuunhh!" Marion's lungs emptied as she wrapped herself around the intense sensations generated by a set of firm lips taking possession of her left nipple. Aaron, discovering that he had plenty to work with, brought his tongue into play, using it to caress the fleshy spike. Marion buried her left hand in the thick hair at the back of his head, holding him in place; her right started out grabbing random handfuls of the bedclothes, but settled for rubbing Aaron's back and left side while she moaned her pleasure, "Oh, God! Oh, God!" Already, she could feel an orgasm gathering power in her belly, aided by Aaron's hand caressing and teasing her belly and flank - but avoiding her panties and the burning flesh inside.

Aaron rolled a little flatter, bringing the iron bar of his cock into contact with the inside of Marion's right thigh with an almost audible sizzle. He was on fire, and the urge to just shred her panties and take her was strong; he KNEW she wouldn't fight it! But that, somehow wasn't enough; the control thing was within his grasp, here, and if he managed to bring her to heel here, now, it would be done for all time - for Marion displayed signs of being submissive, perhaps to a degree that even she was totally unaware of.

Marion wanted that burning bar of flesh inside her - but for a start, having it rubbing alongside her clitoris would do. She began to surge and rock, using her arousal to drive herself under Aaron, bringing his fiery staff closer and closer to her pudenda. But when she was almost there, his cock lying in the depression between her thigh and her burning mons, he rolled up, releasing her nipple. "Want something?" he asked, with an evil smirk.

"Uh huh!" Marion gasped out, and pulled his head back down.

Aaron acquiesced for a moment, running his lips up and down the stiff protuberance while crushing his staff against her clit, bringing a delighted moan. Then he was up again, rolling off and pulling his head back. Marion moaned in frustration and arched herself, chasing his wandering cock with her crotch. "What? What do you want?" he teased.

Marion was maddened. She was one giant nerve ending, and Aaron kept pulling away! What did he want? "What?"

"What do you want?" Aaron asked, reasonably. He waited a moment while she struggled with her scattered senses then snapped, "Say it!" his voice a whip-crack.

"Uh... Uh..." Marion stuttered, confused. What was he up to?

"You know what it is; you know what to call it. Ask for it. Ask for it now, or maybe you won't get it!" Aaron's eyes bored into Marion's, "Tell me what you want!"

"Your cock!" Marion wailed. Anything to get it!

Aaron rolled back onto her, grinding his cock into her lower belly and pubic mound. Talk about your empty threats... But somebody in this relationship had to be strong, and he was determined that they both know who that person was. Having granted her a physical reward, he crooned, "Good. Where do you want it? Is this good enough?" He started to again back off.

Marion surged to follow, "No!"

"No?" Aaron pinned her hip to the mattress. "Where, then?"

"Inside me!" Marion wailed, thrashing.

Aaron rolled back onto her, and she drove herself against him, and tried to wrap her legs around him - but he got his outside, and wouldn't allow it. "Inside you? Where? Tell me! There are three different places..."

Aaron, now prone atop her, telegraphed a move to rise, and all restraint left her. "In my pussy!" she wailed.

"What if I want your mouth? Or your ass?" Aaron teased. Perched on his elbows, he clamped fingers on both of Marion's nipples.

Marion arched as if electrocuted. "They're yours!" she screeched, "Anything!"

Aaron slid himself up and down alongside her clitoris. It was maddening to him, but somehow he maintained control. "So I own all of your holes?" he asked in a parody of reasonableness.

Marion WAS maddened. "Yes! Yes! Only, please, f-fuck me! Oh, God..."

Aaron repeated the sliding movement and murmured softly, "We're almost there, now... Listen to me!" He stopped moving, staring into her fevered eyes. "What do you call a woman who can't control herself where sex is concerned? One who has to have it, and will humiliate and degrade herself to get it?"

"A..." Marion cudgeled her smoking mind, "slut?" Where did that flash through her loins come from?

"Very good." Aaron rewarded her with another stroke, finger work on her burning nipples and an attack on her neck that left her senses reeling, then rose for another question. "And that makes you?"

Marion strained to follow him up. She knew the answer he was fishing for, and she knew he was going to get it - besides, he was right, wasn't he? "A slut! I'm a slut!"

Aaron smiled, and he let her strain to reach him, but he didn't lower himself to her. Instead, he frowned and growled, "Sluts don't wear panties. They get in the way. You don't want... ?"