Chapter 4

Nipples – bumpy or otherwise - aside, my reaction to Abby’s proximity was a puzzle. While she wandered among the breakfast buffet, I watched her with a growing fascination. I’d seen thousands of nipples, if not more, and touched, licked, bit, tickled, and squeezed more than I could probably remember, but Abby’s cherubic face and unremarkable body sometimes took my breath away.

Mark’s schoolboy crush was completely understandable, so I decided to stop worrying and just go with the flow. Somehow Abby would decide if we were going to be an item, and if I knew women at all, she was going to be hell on wheels when I finally got her naked and happy about it.

That settled, we had a very pleasant breakfast, Abby hadn’t had a meal that wasn’t a challenge in so long that she nearly couldn’t bring herself to take the things off the buffet that she wanted, for fear that she wouldn’t be able to pay for them. It was an act of discipline for her to overcome that fear and remember how her life was before privation was the order of the day.

Watching Abby select and eat it was a sexual tease. Everything that went into her mouth made me want to bury Mr. Johnson in past those luscious lips. My mind drifted about, wondering if she was a noisy sex partner. Did she scream in ecstasy, or squeeze her eyes tightly shut and ride it out? Would she concentrate on her partner, or lie back and take whatever came next? How rigid would her nipples get just before she came? Did her breasts blush bright red as her passion peaked?

When I found myself wondering what she tasted like before and after she came, I knew I was a goner. Somehow I had to control my urges and let her heal, or I’d screw it all up. The problem was, I didn’t want to control myself. The inner man wanted to completely possess Abby, in every way a man properly possesses a women. Behind the somber expression I kept pasted on my face was a man contemplating all the positions we could employ while making love, and how many times I could send her over the top before sliding inside and giving her my all.

Suffice it to say that breakfast was a bit unusual for me.

Our conversation over breakfast was strictly impersonal. We discussed the snow and ice, traveling conditions with other guests, local and national news stories, and a bit of this and that. Abby handled being back among normal people, and doing normal things very well. There was no hint of depression, fear, discomfort about her clothes, or any of the shame she evidenced the day before when she recognized Mark and was ashamed of her appearance.

We took our time and walked through the ground floor a bit before heading back to our suite. It was while wandering the hotel that we saw a notice that explained about a private Jacuzzi room the hotel kept for guests. All you had to do was check with the desk for a key, and they gave you a time that the room would be empty. We loved the idea of a hot soak and went to the desk and made arrangements for two P.M.

We were back in the suite, watching the snow falling outside before Abby asked the pregnant question. “Mark, when we go downstairs to use the hot tub, what are you wearing? I have no swim suit.”

Rather than make an issue out of it, I took her concern head on. “If you need to go in alone, I will wait until you had all of the hot tub you want and use the tub at a later time. Otherwise we can wear underclothes, or turn off the lights and get in naked. What do you think we should do?”

Abby tuned me out for a few minutes. After thinking it through she gave me her opinion. “You ... saw ... all of me, yesterday. I guess there is nothing for me to cover up as long as you won’t be grossed out thinking about how awful I looked...” Her voice drifted away.

“Will it upset you for me use the hot tub with you?” I had to ask.

“Oh, Mark ... No ... absolutely not. If you won’t be disgusted seeing me that way, I promise that I won’t mind at all.

“You saved me, Mark. I was dying. I know I was, and you took me in like I was family. How many people take in a homeless freak who smells like a garbage dumpster? And when I couldn’t lift a finger to help, you scrubbed me until I looked like a human being...”

She was starting to relive the bad times, so I pulled her in for a hug and kissed her on the lips hard enough to get her attention. Abby stood still for a little while, and then wrapped her arms around me and kissed back. We made out for about ten minutes, pausing only to catch our breath and find a more comfortable position.

When we parted lips, Abby clung to me with all her might. I held her against my chest and let her hear my heartbeat for comfort. Eventually she calmed down, kissed me once more on the lips, slipped off of my lap and went into the bathroom to shower, firmly closing the door.

While she showered, I caught up on the weather news and realized we would be stuck for at least one more night, if not two. We had plenty of food and water in case of a power failure, and there were enough blankets to pile on to keep us warm. Once Abby relinquished the bathroom, I shaved, flossed, and brushed. By that time we needed to head down to the dining room for lunch.

Abby’s stomach had pretty much adjusted to regular meals by lunchtime. She decided to join me at the buffet and chose a little bit of lots of things. It was fun to watch her enjoy eating. Her homelessness had deeply affected her. She was re-experiencing many things she took for granted before she found herself on the streets.

One thing she was was fastidious. Abby carefully ate, and very carefully cleaned her plate before offering it to the bus boy as he passed by, and carefully kept herself clean. There were no stains on her clothes after our meals. Abby was far too grateful to have clothes for her to treat them roughly.