Chapter 39: Prepping Thanksgiving and the Weddings

Thanksgiving and marriage less than a week away, many things had to be resolved within the shortened week. Both Joe and Marta had a lot on their plates.

Marianne and Debra waking Joe when they arrived at the log cabin early Sunday with Marta and Margie as audience shared his blow job awakening and received climaxes from his mouth and cock. Marianne fucked him first while Debra enjoyed his cunnilingus. Joe tasted his cum as he sucked Marianne while Debra revived his cock and rode him to the finale. The women collapsed and slept, exhausted. Joe remained awake, working.

When L awoke, she and Joe tromped through the beginning of a wet snowfall for their two mile jog. Showering together afterwards and changing into sweat pants and heavy cotton shirts, L borrowing Joe's and wearing it at a length of a dress, they started a fire in the hearth and worked on the civil suit against Hauser.

Later, early in the afternoon, Debra, having rested at last from an endless week of law work and dancing joined them. By the time they needed to ready for sleep the suit seemed to gel.

Glad to move on, Joe had plenty more to accomplish, including the flip side of the nursing home issue, real estate and personnel when the homes would be vacated and employees offered placement at new facilities purchased by Danny and others. Those things would wait until he and Debra returned to the office and began their shortened week.

Marta had her hands full too. In charge of planning the Thanksgiving feast and wedding, she spent the morning creating the wedding event. This included a piece of choreography involving Marianne, Mary and Margie. Roger had been enlisted as well, tapping out percussion on drumsticks and a large shallow drum resembling an oversized tambourine with shimmering bells rather than metal disks. The tempo had an uneven Asian feel.

Along with members of the harem, Marta invited the teenager Samantha and any of her dancing friends to join them. Marta figured it would help begin her dance classes.

The first rehearsal had actually occurred the day before. Samantha's mother watched the proceedings to assure herself of her daughter's safety. Marta's professionalism convinced her. When she and the other mothers dropped off her daughter and other youngsters the next day, Marta invited the mothers to participate in the warm up exercises as she had on Saturday. Once finished and enjoyed, Samantha's mother left her daughter for Marta and Roger to drive her and the others home after the Sunday rehearsal.

Not so much a distraction, but a delightful respite for Joe watching the lithe young bodies moving gracefully or stumbling, laughing or looking serious. At the center of them, Joe noticed Marta looked more at home than ever.

Of all the teenagers, Samantha drew the most notice. Her enthusiasm, beauty and grace charmed him.

Another charmed male danced with her. Both Marta and Joe had been surprised when of the six teens, two had been young men. Doug and Vance had arrived together, the only two without parental transportation. Of the two, Vance represented the more stereotypical kid wanting to study dance. Small and lean and African American, his fey manner physically and vocally embraced expectations. He also seemed quickest to pick up the steps and even suggested changes to make movements easier yet just as expressive.

On the other hand, Doug proved the exception to what might be expected. Tall and angular, he threatened clumsiness, seemingly on the edge of a stumble. In the end though, his lengthy arms and torso and legs though necessarily moving slower than the others, commanded attention rewarded by an exhilarating presence.

Best friends, Vance and Doug weren't lovers. In a way they resembled Mary and Marta in their relationship. Doug's interest in ballet made Vance suspect a sexual proclivity to be shared. Disappointed it didn't pan it, like Mary and Marta it led to a close relationship of brothers under the skin.

Doug remained a virgin. Pathologically shy, without the excuse of dancing, being near Samantha made him visibly nervous. Dancing, his joy in interacting with her, being so close and actually touching her became just as visible.

"Do you see it?" asked Margie while Doug and Sam danced together.

"Doug and Sam?" Marta responded. Her eyes shimmered. "It's my turn to make a match."

When the wonderful pas de deux ended, Marta told Vance to work with the others on movements and took Doug and Sam aside.

"What do you think Sam?"

"I love it. I'm glad you contacted me. It's so much more free and expressive."

"What about you Doug?"

"Uhm, I don't know. I thought..."

"What Doug?" asked Marta.

"I..."

"Douglas, look at me," said Sam with determination. He finally did. "I see how Miss Cowley treats you in ballet, like you're some doofus who somehow stumbled into class. She sets you up. But you know what? She's an idiot. I love the way you move."

"You ... do?"

"Unh-hunh. You're so ... interesting."

"I am?"

"I'm really really glad Vance talked you into coming here."

"I ... kind of talked him into it. He's like into the whole jazz and tap thing. It's fun and all that, but..."

"You guys work together?" asked Margie.

"Excuse me," Marta said and left her matchmaking to progress.

"Yeah. It's this Duke Ellington medley. You know Take the A Train?" Doug hummed the standard.

"Okay, sure."

"And then there's this ballad, Someone to Watch over Me, and then Don't Get Around Much Anymore. It's pretty cool."

"So do you sing?"

"Yeah," said Doug, reddening.

"That's so cool."

"But I really like Marta's choreography. Like you said, it's so expressive and free."

"I can see that. Do you like dancing with me?"

"I..."

"I love dancing with you Doug. I really love it."

"You ... Really? I feel the same. I always want to ... dance with you. That doesn't creep you out?"

"Why should it?"

"I mean I'm this doofus and you're so ... pretty."

"Douglas! What the fuck are you talking about!?!" Sam yelled.

Marta excused herself from the rehearsal again as everyone stopped and gawked. She knelt in front of the two youngsters smiling. Quietly she told them, "I really like your chemistry. I want to sort of spotlight your pas de deux. There's a ton of bedrooms unoccupied upstairs. We'll work around you for awhile, say an hour. I want you to find one and get to know each other. It will make the dance even better. Then we'll end the day with it. Okay?"

"Cool!" enthused Sam, bouncing to her feet.

"Uhm..."

"Come on doofus," Sam said lightly, tugging on his hand.

They began walking towards the stairs still holding hands. "Wait a second," Marta stopped them. "Joe?"

"Yes Marling?"

"Could you grab that Riesling from the fridge and a couple wine glasses and give them to Doug?"

"Of course. Be back in a flash."

Upstairs, Sam chose Margie's room. The smallest, with only a double bed and no other places to sit, she had a reason. On the walls Margie hung portraits of Rimbaud and Baudelaire instead of rock stars and a small notebook page sized photo of Margie, highly transformed, blown way up to reveal bitmap blocks and colored a pale greenish gray, with a poem superimposed called "Self Portrait."

"This is so cool," said Sam reading the poem from her seat at the end of the bed. Doug sat stiffly at the side of the bed pouring wine. "Check it out."

He brought her a glass and sat beside her, breathing in her scent, getting stimulated. He read the poem. "Wow," he said.

"She's amazing. Everyone here is. Marta's so beautiful and warm and fun. And Mary's ... If I liked girls..."

"Yeah. But..."

"What?"

"I'd ... Of all of them, I'm glad it's you sitting here."

"I feel the same way. I think Joe's a hunk, but ... Drink up. Relax. I won't bite."

"I know," Doug exhaled. "I just..."

"Lie back on the bed, okay?"

"Okay." He wriggled his long lean body until his head rested against a large pillow. Sam sat cross legged beside him. They drank down their wine and Sam refilled the glasses.

"You're not a doofus, Doug. And you don't creep me out. In fact the opposite. I'm glad you don't stare at me, but I catch the glances. And when I do, before you look away like a rabbit darting from headlights, how do I look?"

"What do you mean? You're ... beautiful."

"I think you're pretty damned handsome yourself, but what I mean is, am I staring daggers?"

"No. You smile. It's ... I like your smile."

"Yours too. I like looking at you even when you get nervous. It's cute. But I never get to know you. I want to, okay? I think you're really brave."

"You're kidding."

"Nope. Think about it. I bet your classmates make fun of you for dancing. I mean Vance, he's as out of the closet as you get, but you're not..."

"No. And I really don't give a shit what people say."

"God that's so hot!"

"But you're ... popular."

"I'm friendly, Doug. I'm not shy like you. People like friendly."

"And being cute and pretty couldn't hurt."

"I guess not. But what sucks about it..."

"Something sucks about being popular?"

"Yeah, Doug. Say one of your so called best pals comes up to you and points and says, 'Jesus, Sam, would you look at that doofus! I heard he's in your ballet class! Is he a fag or what? Or maybe he's looking up the girl's tutus, the creep.'"

"Uhm..."

"Look at me Doug. What would you do?"

"Tell her to fuck off or look in the mirror and see the real creep."

Sam smiled. Swallowing the wine and watching Doug swallow his, she set the glasses aside. She straddled Doug's torso and leaned down and kissed him. Neither had any experience at it, Doug for obvious reasons and Sam because she'd yet to meet a guy she wanted to kiss, at least one available to her. She'd have kissed Joe in a second if she had a chance. But the spontaneity of it made it work. They didn't try to kiss in a way they thought kisses should be done. Lips met and pressed and opened. Mouths sealed.