Peter Jenkins - The reluctant neighbor

Marily's thoughts, suddenly directed to Fred, caused her to laugh, and relax. "I don't know what to say, really, Anna. We've been married two years and…" she hesitated, then continued, feeling the sincerity of the woman sitting there as though it were a physical presence. "He's very conservative. And he's not… well he really doesn't seem to enjoy sex. Not like Peter and… your husband." She blushed deeply, her face suddenly burning like fire.

Anna laughed softly, patted Marily's arm. "I know what you mean. Hans was the same way. I don't suppose either of them bothered to tell you, but I joined the club before Hans did. Our marriage was on the point of breaking up, Marily, and then we found this. I used to be a legal secretary in the same building with Peter. He introduced me to the club, then arranged for Hans to come in. They have become very good friends, as you can see." She smiled and tilted her beautiful head and looked at the two men, standing tall above everyone in the room, laughing and joking with each other.

Marily couldn't find words to express her gratitude to the lovely Anna. She couldn't believe that she could ever come to be as self-assured, as self-contained as Anna was. She could find nothing to say to her; she felt that anything she might try would sound stupid and awkward. She remained silent and listened to Vivian.

"Marily, Marily where are you you lovely creature come and you are first no matter what anyone says about anything and the small amount of cheating that I'm doing she's our very special guest and…" She babbled on, coming to Marily and holding out a box in front of her with small pieces of white paper, folded, inside it. "Take your pick, Marily, but just one and then we'll announce the number and then we'll watch the man scramble for the matching odd or even." She smiled at Marily.

Marily's trembling hand reached into the shallow depth of the box and took a piece of paper from it. She didn't know what to do, what was expected of her. She got the general idea that she was to read the number as Vivian went on talking, never stopping, never seeming to need to breathe like other humans did. "… Read it, dear, for all to hear." She ran down and stood silently waiting for Marily to read the number from the slip of paper.

"Thirty-three," Marily whispered, frightened of the number for some reason, alarmed that she was suddenly the center of attention.

"Thirty-three, thirty-three," Vivian sang, turning back into the crowd and passing among them the box so that they could draw. Marily turned to Anna for help and an explanation.

"Oh, you've never done this before. I forgot. Vivian or Peter should have explained it to you. You have an odd number, so that whoever, rather whichever, man gets the even number in the thirties will be your companion for the rest of the evening. We're just trying this system. We used to draw only once in the beginning, then return the slips to the box. But, for this week-end we're trying something new. I think I like it."

Anna sat, smiled at her, and opened her own slip of paper. "I'm very lucky, Marily. I got number forty-five."

"I don't think that I can just be selected by a strange man and… just leave with him in front of all these people," Marily said, taken aback by the brashness of the whole idea.

"Oh, no, it's not done that way. You'll find that each room upstairs is numbered, say ten, twenty, thirty, etc. You just go there when you feel like it. Excuse me, I want to talk to Hans." She smiled, stood and walked away.

Marily knew that she was going home. She suddenly felt the overpowering need to be away, to get her thoughts in order. She stood, deciding not to say anything to anyone, just to slip out the back door and go to her own house. She just wasn't up to what was expected of her. She got as far as the kitchen. Peter stopped her by taking her arm.

"Let me get your drink for you, love," he said, taking her empty glass from her hand. He went around the small breakfast nook and opened the refrigerator and took the full pitcher from it, poured her glass full to the brim, did the same with his own, then handed hers to her. He kissed her lightly, just brushing her lips with his. "Marily, we have everyone here this week, which makes it a little crowded, so I volunteered your house. I felt that you might be more at ease there so thirty is your bedroom. O.K.?"

"Peter, I… can't. I mean… I was just going home now. I… I don't know how I'm ever going to face Fred." Suddenly she was crying, then just as suddenly she was in his arms, against him, he protecting and soothing her with his hands and strength.

"Baby, I'm sorry. I guess we're too much for you, coming all at once – no pun intended. I'll take you home," he said, leading her out the door. He took her to her own house. Marily couldn't stop crying. Peter soothed her and helped her into bed, kissing and touching and patting her; he placed her head gently on a pillow and told her that he would be back, for her to just relax, and finish her drink. He kissed her and left.

Marily lighted a cigarette, sipped at her drink and her tears gradually subsided. She put out the cigarette, then sank into the bed and dozed. She was awakened by deep throated laughter, heard the tread of feet in the hallway, then looked up to see Peter standing in the door, his smile showing to perfection his white teeth; his arm was around the shoulders of Roy.

"Marily, look who I brought you. A real prince." They advanced toward her. She shrank back into the bed, a feeling of utter hopelessness overpowering her. She had thought that Peter liked her, had even hoped that he loved her as she did him, and now she was horrified that he would bring in another man, to her bedroom, to enjoy her as he had done only a short while ago. She was suddenly deeply hurt.

Peter knew instinctively what was going through her mind. He went directly to her, took her in his arms in one sweeping gesture and kissed her profoundly. She responded without wanting to, clinging to him, his hot mouth burning hers, wanting to hold him so tight that he would never get away.

Marily soon was lost, caught up in the ecstasy of Peter's love. He felt her need for re-assurance, knew that he alone could provide it for her. He held her close to him, kissed her mouth, her eyes, her nose and fondled her breasts. He did find time to motion to Roy to get undressed and into the bed.

Marily felt the bed sag on the opposite side from where Peter's weight was, but for some reason – because Peter was there and was holding and kissing her – it made no difference. She had begun to feel the fires inside her building again, had started to need badly Peter's hard love inside her. Peter eased himself from her arms, gently and with concern, and said, smoothing his hand over her forehead, "Marily, be good to Roy. He is a good friend." He saw her brow wrinkle, knew that she was becoming frightened again, so he said, "Roy, hold her, she's a bit shy this first time."

Marily felt herself being taken into the arms of the total stranger who was in her bed. She wanted to resist, to cry out, but Peter was asking her to do this, for him. She couldn't sort it all out in her mind, but she knew that she would do whatever he wanted her to do, so she let herself relax in the arms of Roy. She was instantly aware of his nakedness, against her, the length of her legs; she could feel the hair on him. It bristled against her.

"Kiss her, Roy," Peter said, softly, withdrawing himself totally from her.

Roy did. He took Marily to him, then put his mouth onto hers, pressed his lips into her and ran his hand down her back, over the white mounds, the naked buttocks, delighted in the softness of them. He wanted to rush himself into her, to kiss and fuck and plow and pump, but he held himself back, followed the advice Peter had given him on the way over. He took it slowly, exploring every delicious curve and crevice of her, from her neck to her thighs.