Chapter 12: Pillow Talk

Interlude: 25^th Anniversary

Cindy:

"Dad says I was conceived that night. Mom says Dad is just being romantic. She was using birth control, and did not conceive for at least a week, til after the wedding. A whole week? Really, Mom. It suffices that I came along about nine months after the engagement. Dad claims that they turned their whole lives inside out to have a family. Mom says the biggest adjustment was remodeling the house. Evidently, there was something else where they put the nursery.

What I don't get is that Dad talks about his virgin bride and Mom only smiles. What's with that?"

Sean:

They say any landing you can walk away from, is a good landing. Does that mean that any proposal that gets you engaged, is a good proposal? My plans were a train wreck, but she took the ring and said yes. So we were at a Wendy's in Easton, Pennsylvania and I had no idea what to do next.

Sheila was gleefully sending a text message. Presumably it was about the engagement, and I had a sneaking suspicion who was receiving it. Once that was done, she looked up and saw me staring. She winked and jerked her head at the door.

As we headed for the car, I asked, where she wanted to go next. That stopped her—for about five seconds. She asked about the distance to Union. This confirmed my suspicion that she had just text Francine Martel. Unfortunately, it was already late, and we could not make the playhouse before 10:30 PM. Then she asked if I could make decent oatmeal? I was good with that. It was time she saw my house.

As we drove home, I ventured, "I contacted Julian to make you a new piece." This did not seem to rattle anything loose. After a pause, she said, "Dress too?" I suppose I should hate being so predictable, but she was the only one that had the knack. I said, "Of course. What good is a wedding dress corset without the wedding dress? I insisted that you had to be able to dance in it, even if I cannot." She became quiet for a moment, then murmured, "My Teddy Bear." That, on the other hand, did annoy me.

If I had any notions that my gated community would impress her, they fell aside. Her only comment was, "Nice house." My garage made a better impression. She accurately named eight of the ten cars, and both of the ones she missed are seriously rare. She went to the 1952 Bentley and stroked the hood for a moment, then said, "This one for the ceremony."

With that obscure comment, she turned to me and cocked an eyebrow. I gestured toward the main house. Once inside, she waited patiently while I punched the code on the security system. Gerald would get very cross if I had a false alarm. Then, I led her to my reading room, cued some Chopin and offered her a seat on the sofa. Instead, she went to examine the sound system. She pulled down the location menu and switched the sound to the master suite. That was clear enough. Before showing her the way, I grabbed a couple of cold bottles of Pelagrino.

The master suite in my home is a bit of a misnomer. It takes up one wing of the house. Before you get to the bedroom, you pass the small gym, which drew her attention. Turning in, she said, "You owe me a massage." That worked for me.

The first thing she did was untie a ribbon and shook her hair out. I could smell the herbal shampoo from the doorway. Then she started unbuttoning her dress, which was a clear call for assistance. I set the bottled water down and helped her remove the dress. Underneath I found a familiar silk corset-like foundation garment and red panties. That called for a comment.

"Why, Miss Schwartz. Were you planning on getting lucky?" I asked, as I unfastened the stays on her stockings.

She affected Mae West. "Luck's got nothin' to do with it."

I found the foundation much easier to unhook from the back side. Once I had it unfastened, I let her take it from my hands. It gave me a chance to marvel at her marvelous back. My hands slowly pushed down her naughty red panties, but my eyes were all about the shape of lovely ass.

"My dear, in all my years, that is the finest rear view I have seen. Would it be too forward of me to request a photo of you, from this side? The lines are simply perfect." She flushed slightly at the comment as I led her to the table.

I love massage. The story is worth telling some other time. It is sufficient to say that my hands knew what they were doing as I grasped her shoulders. She did not melt, not quite, but the groans of tension release were substantial. I told her that she would have use of my personal masseur, if she wished it, but that I intended to massage places he would not be allowed. This provoked a lazy chuckle.

My hands worked down her back to the base of her spine. Most massage ends there, which is a huge pity. One of the tensest places, on most people's bodies, is the ass, technically gluteus maximus. I was soon rolling one half of Sheila's incredible ass with both hands. Perhaps I expected a reaction to the liberty, but all I received for my effort was a contented sigh. After working both sides til my hands were tired, I slipped one hand between her legs.

That earned me, "Finally. What took you so long?" With that she rolled over and pulled me into a fierce kiss. When we came up for air, she said, "You, Clarence Sean 'Ricky' Richards, are going to get fucked. I would not mind getting pregnant tonight, but I took precautions, in case you felt otherwise. So, unless you have something I need to know about, we can dispense with condoms. Now, carry me to the damn bedroom." You have to love a woman who knows what she wants.

Sheila:

After texting Francine, I turned off the phone and pulled the battery. No more messages for a while. Sean was staring at me, so I gave him a wink and motioned toward the door. I was feeling very light and gay. It was hard to keep from prancing, but I managed.

On the way to the car, Sean asked where we were headed. It was probably too late to catch Francine before she headed home, but I asked anyway. No joy. That meant his place. I did not know how much money Sean had, but seriously well off was the low end. If nothing else, he would have a bigger bed, and I was in the mood for some acrobatics.

Sean's house did not disappoint. The community was gated, and the houses were all multistory, with wings. He drove past the house to a garage with at least twenty stalls and almost a dozen cars. I could name most of them, but a couple stumped me. One was an exotic and the other was pre Model T. I decided I wanted to drive off in the Rolls Bentley, after the wedding. Still, it was just the garage, and I had a serious itch.

Inside, the house was tastefully huge. Sean led me past the kitchen, at least one salon and a billiard room. He chose a room set up for reading. There were a number of bookshelves, though not enough to make it a library, Sean cued some mood music, Chopin preludes, and went to a refrigerator for some bottled water. I was interested in his sound system. As I expected, it was wired to the whole house. I switched it on in the master suite.

Sean noticed, but said nothing. He led me to a turn in the hall, which I guessed would lead to his bedroom. As we approached an open door, I could see it was a personal gym. I looked, finding a good sized room, about 20' by 30', which was bigger than my living room. There were three weight machines, but no free weights. Off to one side was a storage area, with towels stacked on a counter in front. Best of all was a massage table. I said, "You owe me a massage."

Sean was agreeable, so I untied the ribbon, and shook it out my hair. As always, Sean wanted a whiff, so I stepped closer as I undid my dress. This was not a costume change situation, so it took a minute. Sean saw that I was wearing the same bustier I had worn at our first session.

He said, "Why, Miss Schwartz. Were you planning on getting lucky?"

That called for Mae West. "Luck's got nothin' to do with it."

Once I had slipped off the dress, I turned my back to Sean, so that he could unfasten the bustier. It takes me ten tricky minutes to put it on. Sean had it off in thirty seconds. Once it was off, he stepped back to look at my bare back. He had seen it before, but perhaps had not stopped to appreciate. I work damn hard on my back, and I think it shows.

Sean did too. "My dear, in all my years, that is the finest rear view I have seen. Would it be too forward of me to request a photo of you, from this side? The lines are simply perfect." I blushed. "Perfect" is high praise, even where praise is cheap. Sean was not one to overuse words.

He led me to the massage table. I spread out on it, putting my face into the support ring. As always, Sean's fingers were magical. He started with my back, then moved down my spine, to the base and then past. Sean started working my left gluteus with both hands. I encouraged him with a sigh. Then, he worked the right one. Then, he let his hand drift between my legs.

I said, "Finally. What took you so long? Turning to face him, I went on, "You, Clarence Sean 'Ricky' Richards, are going to get fucked. I would mot mind getting pregnant tonight, but I took precautions, in case you felt otherwise. So, unless you have something I need to know about, we can dispense with condoms. Now, carry me to the damn bedroom." Some men require a map.

Sean did pick me up, but it was a ways to the bedroom, even though it was on the same hallway. I might need a map, to get around the house. We passed four doors before arriving at the end of the hall. I turned the knob, and Sean carried me in. The room could be called a bedroom, because there was a king size bed over in the corner. There was also a dressing area, a sitting area with a television and a home office. One door stood open, showing a bathroom sink. Presumably, the rest of the required porcelain was further in. Another door, next to the dressing area, probably held the closet. Any other time, I would want to explore, but I had something more important to do, right then.

I said, "OK, Stud. That is far enough. I don't want you to wear yourself out, just yet." Sean set me down. I went on, "Please tell me you have a prenup, to protect all this." For the first time since we had met, I was a bit awed. His bedroom was bigger than my apartment. The personal gym we just left was better equipped than the one in my apartment complex.

Sean sighed, "If it will make you feel better, I will have one drawn up. I should tell you that I own none of this, except the clothes in the closet. Even when Father and Mother pass, I split it with three siblings and a mortgage company." Oddly, that did make me feel better. Rather than say anything, I kissed him. Sean found that to be answer enough.

I suggested, "Why don't we shower together? It might be a bit more intimate." Sean bowed his acknowledgment, and gestured toward a door.

The master shower was about what I expected, given the size of the bedroom. There were two sinks, one with a 360° mirror, a large jacuzzi tub, a commode with bidet, and a large wrap around shower, with natural stone floor. Sean turned on the water, which involved punching numbers on a keypad.

I pulled Sean close and started to unbutton his shirt. Sean joined in, and he was shortly standing in just his boxers, which were tented with a sizable erection. I dropped to my knees and slowly pulled the boxers down. If first impressions are lasting, I would think well of Sean for a long time.

In my business, I have seen a lot of men's equipment. Sean's cock was a bit longer than average, and nicely thick. I took it in one hand, while running the other back to his testicles. Then I came across a problem. I have a great deal of experience handling penises, but absolutely none sucking one. I very much wanted to give Sean some quick satisfaction, but I had no practical experience doing blow jobs. It would have been funny, if I were not so embarrassed. Naturally, Sean picked up on it.

He said, "Yep. This is new for me, too." What did he mean, "too"?

Sean:

Carrying Sheila up the hall, to the master suite, was more work than I was used to doing. I managed to get past the bedroom doors, before Sheila took pity on me. "OK, Stud. That is far enough. I don't want you to wear yourself out, just yet." She rubber necked the room, which is a reasonable response if you are unused to houses of this type. Sheila's next response was definitely the first of its kind.