Chapter 8

Friday morning, Felicity woke early, much earlier than usual. She felt wonderful and rested. The calm that had come over her, after she got into bed with her husband, and thought about what had happened, was still with her. She had come to the understanding, reluctantly at first, that he had been right. If she’d let him make love to her she’d have been miserable. He’d stopped her from making a terrible mistake. As a result, she had lost her fear of Bobby Dalton, and now looked forward to being with him. She wasn’t as early a riser as Ramona, however, and when she walked into the kitchen to clean up her mess, Ramona was already there, and already had done so.

“I’m so sorry, Ramona,” said Felicity.

“Must have been something powerful upsetting to have you up that late at night,” said the woman, concern on her face.

“It’s all resolved now,” said Felicity. She felt a thrill as she realized it was all resolved.

“It’s not like you to leave half baked cookies lying around,” said the cook.

“I know,” said Felicity. “I’m starved. Have you got anything I can munch on?”

Felicity was, in fact, munching on a freshly baked biscuit, when Annie came into the kitchen, yawning. She stopped cold, when she saw Felicity, worry in her eyes.

Felicity put down the biscuit and went to the girl. She hugged her tightly.

“Don’t worry about a thing,” she whispered.

“What’s that all about?” asked Ramona, getting more and more interested in the early morning goings on.

“We had a little argument last night,” said Felicity. “That’s all. It’s all taken care of now. It was a small thing. All this fuss about the reunion has had us all on edge. I’m glad we’re finally going. Maybe things will calm down now.”

She took her biscuit and went to wake Chester up, humming as she left.

“What in the world has gotten into her?” asked Ramona, looking at a wide-eyed Annie.

“I don’t know,” Annie said slowly. “I thought I was a goner for sure.” She suddenly perked up and whirled to look at Ramona. “Ooooo I can’t wait to tell you what happened last night!” Ramona frowned. This was getting stranger and stranger.

Chester kissed her good morning and said he wanted to stay in bed.

“You go on, and get ready and go show those friends of yours what real success looks like,” he said.

She pouted a little, but then gave him a long, warm kiss and said she’d come in to say goodbye before they left. He was pulling the covers up over his head as she left.

Her bags were already packed. Everything was ready to put in the car. Even Bobby’s things were neatly stored in suitcases and hanging bags, sitting in the living room. On impulse, she went to Bobby’s room.

She didn’t knock, but just opened the door. He was in the act of stretching, his arms up above his head. She rushed to the bed and tried to tickle him, shouting, “Get up sleepyhead!”

She found out that he wasn’t ticklish, and then found out how quickly he could move when she was grabbed by the waist and lifted into the air, kicking and squealing. She plopped down on top of him, and suddenly he was kissing her again.

There was the briefest instant of resistance left in her, but once it was used up, she kissed him back. This was a different kind of kiss, though, and when his tongue pushed for access, her lips opened, and her own tongue came to fence with his. She felt his hands on the bottom of her slacks, and felt him pulling her into the lump about where his legs ended, and his trunk began.

When he let her go, she rose up on her elbows, which were supported by his chest, and looked down at him, her eyes wide.

“Good morning, Darling,” he said, grinning.

“Good morning... Dear.” She emphasized the last word, making it sarcastic rather than a term of endearment. “You’re awfully bold this morning.”

“I was motivated,” he said. “It isn’t often a beautiful woman comes into my bedroom and gets within my reach.”

She thought about the fact that, within the last twelve hours two women had come to his bedroom, and gotten within his reach. She realized she was grinding her pussy against that lump, and stopped.

“You’re wrinkling my outfit,” she pouted.

“Take it off,” he suggested.

“Not now, you goofy man!” she said. She let her face down and licked his chin, amazed that she’d done it. “Get up! We need to get breakfast and get on the road!”

“Kansas City’s only four hours away,” he said. “If you’re driving, maybe less than that.”

She tried to look stern. “Are you saying I have a lead foot?”

His hands squeezed her butt. “Well, there’s no lead here, that’s for sure.”

She wiggled off of him, taking entirely too long, and struggling entirely too much, considering that he wasn’t trying to keep her there at all. She managed to rub most of her body against him as she got off.

She got serious, then, looking down at him. Very slowly she reached for the sheet that was covering him, and pulled it down. He lay there, not moving, as more and more of his body was uncovered.

There it was. For the first time she got to actually see it. It looked as hard as it had felt, the night before, in her hand. Chester was circumcised. This one was not. It looked thicker than she thought possible. She wondered if she could get it in her mouth.

Blushing at the thought, she looked back up at his face. He was smiling, and those blue eyes were warm and inviting.

“Get up,” she said. “We’re not supposed to act married until we get there.”

“Your wish is my command,” he said, gallantly, as his feet swung over the edge of the bed.

She backed up, almost timidly as he stood, her eyes riveted on the thing that stuck straight out from his loins. Chester’s always drooped, even years ago, when she could still get it stiff. This one didn’t droop, and she felt a rush of passion that told her to get out, before she did something foolish.

She saw him coming toward her, and instinct told her he was going to kiss her again. She darted to the door and half closed it, putting it between them, with her head peeking around the edge.

“You just get dressed,” she ordered. Then, just before she shut the door, she paused.

“Thank you for last night,” she said. “You were right.”

This day, she chose the 1965 Bentley Flying Spur. It was long, and sleek, with maroon sides, and a pearl white hood and roof. It just screamed “Money!“ and she knew that. Once they packed, and were on the road, the V-8 purred with power, but she drove with just one hand, the power steering making it simple for her.

“Nice car,” said Bobby.

“Thank you,” she said. “Have you ever driven one?”

He laughed.

She looked over at him. “You’ll need to drive in Kansas City. It would be expected for the husband to drive.”

“This is too precious to risk me driving it,” he said. “Especially in a big city, with big city traffic.”

“We must be convincing,” she said firmly.

He drove from Topeka on. The car handled marvelously, and responded to his foot with more power than seemed actually necessary. It was a joy to drive, though watching her drive it had been fun too. Now she got to watch him, and the fluttery feeling in her belly, that told her tonight ... at the hotel ... would be very intense, made her anticipation grow.

They arrived in style. A bellhop scurried to get their luggage, while another came to get the car and park it in the garage. She had booked a suite, long before she had known Bobby would be coming with her. She stood, looking at the lone bed, and the flutters started up again. She’d forgotten about that, in the run-up to this moment. She realized it didn’t matter, and went to see if the rest of the room was suitable. She’d also forgotten to talk to Bobby about tipping. She’d given him five hundred dollars in cash to carry during the trip. She’d turned to see him handing money to the bell hop, who was grinning from ear to ear.

Then they were alone in the room.

“This is really nice,” he said, looking around. “I hope ten dollars wasn’t too much to tip him.”

“You have a friend for life,” she said, wryly. “And, you have ensured we’ll get the best service.”

“What now?” he asked.

She knew what she wanted right now, but she controlled herself.

“Some of the others might be in the bar,” she said. “We could go down and see, and be seen.”

“You people have funny rules,” he said, smiling.

“I suppose I’m putting on airs,” she said. “I shouldn’t, huh?”

“Probably not,” he said. “You want them to envy you, not hate you.”

“Why do I want them to envy me?” she said, more to herself than to him. “I’m lucky. I have everything a woman could want. My life is easy. I should be happy I’m so lucky, instead of flaunting it.”

“Do you have everything you want?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said. “What could I possibly desire that I don’t have?”

“Children?” he asked.

She blinked. She’d gotten so used to the idea that Chester could never give her children that she’d put that out of her mind.

“I have plenty of time for that,” she said. “I’m young, but Chester isn’t. One day I’ll think about children, perhaps.”

“What if he lives to be a hundred?” asked Bobby. “I wouldn’t put it past him. He’s a heck of a guy.”

“Yes, he is,” said Felicity, feeling warmth surge through her at the thought of her husband. She could never have asked for a more loving man, even though he was too old to give her a family. He was so loving that he sent her off to enjoy being with a younger man, knowing somehow, that she needed that, or at least a taste of that. The taste she’d already gotten was deliciously tantalizing. The thought of drinking more deeply was tantalizing too.

And, what made her happiest of all, was that she was already thinking of what she’d do for Chester when she got finished ... sampling the water from that particular well.

She was thinking so much about that, that she completely forgot to answer Bobby’s question.

She took time to survey him, and push that troublesome forelock back up above his brow, before taking him to introduce to her friends. It turned out there were, indeed, three of her old friends in the bar.

Bobby didn’t even try to keep up with the names, since they had spouses with them too, and he knew there would be more. She had said her graduating class had more than four hundred students in it, and about two thirds of them were expected to show up for this reunion.

Even though they had practiced what they’d do, he took some of his cues from the others at the big table they ended up at. Two of the men didn’t touch their wives at all. One held his wife’s hand, and the other couple intertwined arms.

He let the buzz of the catching-up go in one ear and out the other. He was just window dressing, in this situation, and he sipped a Coke slowly as those who knew each other did the talking. At one point, when her hand was lying on the table, he covered it with his, interlacing fingers. She gave him a little squeeze, but went on talking.

They had dinner, and were joined by another couple, who came in and saw the group. A band started playing and one of the men got up and pulled his wife to the dance floor. Bobby stood, and held out his hand. Felicity excused herself from the conversation and melted into his arms. It was slow music, and she lay her head on his chest.