Stanley Redman - Mark_s wandering wife vol. 1

"Uh hum. And you were going to do that to me?"

"Cannonize you, I think."

She laughed warmly, cuddling down beside him to rest her head on his arm and raise one leg up over him. "You have to call Mark Coleman now?"

"Um humm. I've been letting him stew a little," A.C. replied with closed eyes. "Better that he thinks these things come hard. I'll call him shortly… tell him we're having dinner together."

"Which means, we offer and they accept," Tonya said softly, rubbing her hand in a gentle circle against the hair of his chest. "Does Dianne know that?"

"I doubt it. She will though, when the time comes."

For a moment Tonya was silent. Then: "Do you really want to screw that little bitch awfully bad, Darling?"

A.C. pretended to think about that. At last: "No… not awfully bad," he lied. "But I think it's time she paid her dues… don't you?"

"Um hum… seeing you put it in like that, Darling," his wife replied softly. "But then, you always were the Goddamned diplomat. Frankly, I think you ought to be the politician."

A.C. Faro laughed. "Jealous?" he questioned. "Should I be?"

A.C. shrugged and she jumped up over him immediately.

"You dirty old bastard!" she exclaimed. Then, they both laughed.

Dianne was grateful for the shelves of books that lined Mark's study. She had always been an avid reader. Not that absorbing books could fill the void in her lonesome, love-starved new life, but it did help pass the time, and by reading and glancing through the dusty volumes she felt that somehow she was gaining a closer insight into the mysterious aura surrounding her ruthless, ambitious husband. Perhaps, if she learned everything she could about the family background she would not only better understand him, but might well be able to reach him and make him know that she truly, loved him.

It was a feeble approach to solving her problem, she realized as she sat on the shaded, side-patio with the elegantly bound book in her lap, but at least it gave her the feeling of doing something in that direction.

OLD FAMILIES OF RIO LADO was embossed in gold lettering across the cover of the book. She had first browsed through its entire contents, then gone back to read the Coleman history, gleaning little that pertained to Mark except the mention of his birth. Yet, there was something in the short genealogy that bothered her. Undoubtedly, the book had been published before Mark's parents' accident for no mention was made of that.

Mathew Coleman had been the original member to settle in Rio Lado around the year 1870. The mansion was built some decade later. He'd been Mark's grandfather, thirty years old at the time, but no wife was mentioned as having arrived in the area with him. He had come from a small family of Irish immigrants, it went on, the son of Paddy and Molly Coleman of Dublin, Ireland, had one brother Sean, and two sisters, Mary and Kate. Besides being an attorney, the original Coleman had homesteaded vast parcels of land and had later entered into the feed and grain business. At 37, a son, Timothy was born to Mathew and Catherine Coleman. Three years later, Mathew was elected to the state senate.

The vast holdings had passed on to Timothy at his father's demise, a young man whose interests had been strongly political. Although he had practiced law, he soon disposed of the grain business and devoted most of his time to politics, becoming one of the youngest senators in the history of the state. Timothy was thirty-six when he married Helen Freemont of Sacramento, and their only son, Mark, was born in 1935.

There was more, but of little importance and Dianne had gotten nothing but a cold empty feeling from reading it, as if she had just walked through a damp, ghost-filled mausoleum. She closed the book and looked up to see Mark coming through the doorway, a broad smile lighting his handsome face.

His greeting was an unexpected delight; he walked over to where she sat, bent down, and kissed her on the cheek… the first time ever.

"And how's my girl?" he said warmly.

The move had startled her so that she reached up and touched the spot where his lips had been with her fingertips. Then, she felt her face flush, like a schoolgirl receiving her first kiss.

"Wh-What was that all about?" she heard herself stammer.

"Good heavens, woman," Mark laughed. "Can't a man greet his wife with a kiss without explaining his reasons?"

Dianne returned his smile with one of her own. "Of course," she replied, looking closer to see if he was drunk. "Just any old time he wants."

"Good," he said. "And no, I'm not drunk. Had a few but, I've all my wits… just happy, Darling. That's all. Exceptionally happy."

"Things went well, then…? I mean, you were hoping to solicit support…"

He stepped back and with hands on hips, still smiling, looked off across the well-kept lawns with a certain underlying proudness. "Yes… I'm quite certain of it. In fact, Darling, I believe I've secured the support… of Judge Julian Reed… If so, it's all a cinch, I'm as good as in office."

"Oh…?" Dianne said. She knew of Judge Reed and his power from working in Mark's office, but she had never seen him, nor heard anything good about him, only that he wielded massive political weight. He was retired from the bench, a widower somewhere in his late fifties, and a terribly obese man… so the story went. Anyway, she was pleased because Mark was obviously so. "When will you know, Darling? I mean, for sure…?"

"Any moment, I hope. I'm waiting now for a phone call."

Dianne stood. "Can I get you something?"

"Great idea," he said, moving over beside her and slipping his arm snugly around her slender waist, drawing her against him. "How about stirring us up a batch of martinis. About that time, isn't it?"

"Just about," she replied, unable to believe this sudden wave of open affection. "I think I'd like one myself."

She picked up her book and they entered the house together, his arm still around her as they moved into the sitting room and she started behind the bar.

"No," he said suddenly. "I'll mix the drinks and you sit down right here." He twisted one of the four stools about and helped her onto it, then, lifting her chin kissed her full on the mouth. "Mmmmmm," he muttered, "nectar for the Gods, I swear."

Dianne gaped at him. She couldn't help herself; she was that surprised and pleased. She tried to think of something to say, but there just weren't any words at her disposal that could possibly describe her sudden happiness. Instead, she simply smiled… almost simpered, as he jogged behind the bar and began to mix.

"You know, Darling, if everything comes off, and after the election while I'm waiting to take office, I think you and I should catch a bit of a honeymoon… say… Europe, maybe?"

"Mark!" she gasped, hardly daring to believe her hearing. "Do you mean it? I mean… honest…?"

"Baby!" he exclaimed, coming back around the bar and standing before her. "Of course, I mean it!"

And then, before she realized what had happened he lifted her off the stool to her feet and was holding her tight in his arms, his mouth gently covering hers, his tongue taunting her lips, seeking entry which she happily gave him, as his hands caressed and smoothed over her back, finally dropping to her round, full buttocks and drawing her loins tightly against him until she could feel his stirring penis against her belly.

She clung to him passionately, sucking gently at his tongue while her pelvis responded almost of its own volition, pressing and undulating with hardly perceptive motions against him.

Oh, wonderful God, was it possible? Had they found each other. She would go to the ends of the earth with him or for him! She loved him so…!

He raised his head and smiled at her. "You're a wonderful girl, Dianne. You won't be sorry I promise you," he whispered.