Princes of Mannsborough, Part 2

by Vulgar Argot

(MF, blackmail, oral, solo)

Once they were in the car and headed to her house, Marigold found it easy to become hypnotized by the dashed white lane dividers going past. Street lights were few and far between and traffic sparse. As focused as she was, Marigold could let the rest of the world recede into darkness. Despite the warmth of late spring, she shivered. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Thule reach for the heat control, his eyebrow raised in an obvious question. Marigold shook her head once in the negative.

Thule let his hand drop to the radio. With a click, raucous rock and roll filled the car. Another click changed it to something baroque and soothing. Thule turned the volume down low enough to make conversation easy, but neither of them spoke.

Instead, Thule concentrated on the road and Marigold concentrated on Thule . He seemed completely at ease, either unaware or supremely unconcerned by the revenge fantasies she was formulating. Marigold wanted to say something cutting or unsettling or maybe just scratch his eyes out, anything to break his maddening calm. Thule 's composure seemed to mock her powerlessness.

Unable to do more, Marigold studied Thule with a critical eye. He was tall enough that his hair was crushed against the roof of the car. From there, it ran in a black cascade down his neck and shoulders and disappeared between his back and the seat. That much hair marked him as one of the dregs. He was social poison.

Worse, Marigold knew that he didn't have to be. Freshman year, he'd been on Mannsborough High's track team. Now that she was really looking at him, Marigold noticed that he had kept in shape since then, even bulked up some. He could easily fit in with Randy Vandevoort and the football team if he would just make a few changes.

The hair would have to go--and the clothes, of course. He was wearing some generic blue jeans that he'd probably owned for years and a flannel shirt worn open to show a t-shirt advertising some computer company Marigold had never heard of. She knew that Thule 's family was not exactly well-off, but he should be able to afford to dress better than that.

Marigold imagined Thule with his hair cut and styled, appropriately dressed. The image made her smile, though she couldn't say why.

Thule pulled up in front of the wooded area next to Marigold's front yard. She looked at him questioningly.

"Fix your hair," he said.

Marigold pulled down the sun visor and frowned in the small mirror, "It's a little bit messy, but I'm just going to head upstairs and wash it."

Thule sighed, then said slowly, "If you go in looking like that, your parents are going to know you've been up to something. Fix it."

Marigold started to pout, but Thule did not look like he was going to budge. Searching through her purse for the appropriate implements, she made a few subtle changes until Thule nodded, apparently satified.

"If I pull up to your front door and let you out, will there be questions?" he asked.

"I doubt it," Marigold answered. "I get rides from other people at the newspaper sometimes. My parents don't stay up looking out the window when I stay late."

"Okay," he said and restarted the car, driving it the last hundred feet to the front of her walk.

" Thule ?" Marigold asked. Thule looked up, expectantly.

"No," Marigold said, "nothing. I'm sorry." Then, because Thule didn't seem inclined to break the silence, she added quietly, "Thank you for the ride home."

Thule seemed to be considering several possible responses before he said, "Any time. I'm surprised you don't have your own car."

Marigold shrugged, "My stepfather doesn't think that it's safe for me to be driving around alone."

Thule raised an eyebrow, "But he lets you stay at the school until nine o'clock at night?"

Marigold laughed without much humor, "Not really. But the newspaper is an important extracurricular. It looks good on my transcript. We argue about it a lot."

She expected him to say something crude, but Thule just started the car, "I'll see you in school tomorrow."

"Yeah, okay." Marigold said, but made no move to get out. Thule watched her querulously.

With a start, Marigold realized that she was waiting for Thule to get out and open the door for her, like Elliot would have. Feeling foolish, she undid her seatbelt and let herself out.

                          ===

Inside, Marigold's mother was watch TV in the living room. It was turned down low enough that all Marigold could hear was the laugh track. She looked up when Marigold passed in the hallway, "You're home. Good. Jonas has been waiting for you."

Marigold nodded, dropped her textbooks on the hall table, and walked down the hall to her stepfather's office. Jonas was peering hard at his computer screen and muttering to himself. After a few seconds of this, he seemed to become aware of Marigold's presence and looked up.

"Did you just get in?" he asked. Marigold nodded.

"This is very late," said Jonas. "We expected a call."

"I'm sorry, sir." said Marigold. "I got so wrapped up in getting the newspaper ready, I lost track of the time."

Jonas sighed and rubbed his face with both hands, "Call next time. Marigold, you're staying late at school far too often. You've got to stop pushing yourself so hard. You've got your acceptance letter. It's important to take time for prayer and reflection, too."

Marigold frowned, "It's not unheard of for Harvard to withdraw invitations to enroll for students who don't keep up a high standard of academic excellence." She'd gotten her acceptance letter two weeks before, but this already felt like an old argument between them. Marigold didn't think she'd be able to take another round of it tonight and tried to think of some way to beg off.

Fortunately, Jonas didn't seem to be up for it either because he changed the subject. "Did you get a chance to read the verses I recommended?"

Marigold nodded, "Yes, sir. But, I haven't really had time to think about them."

Jonas nodded, smiled wearily, and tapped the Bible on his desk absentmindedly with a fingertip. "It requires some context to explain. I've got an early morning meeting tomorrow and I'm still trying to puzzle out these numbers. Why don't you go get ready for bed? You look tired."

Marigold nodded and went upstairs. She was grateful for the respite, but also regretted giving up the opportunity to spend time with her stepfather. Between work and church, he was always so busy that the half hour or more that they set aside for Bible study was often the only time Marigold got to see him.

Alone, Marigold stripped out of her clothes. Absentmindedly, she sat and rubbed her breasts to bring circulation back into them. Looking down at the sports bra lying crumpled and inside-out on the floor, she had to admit that it really had grown too small for her and left angry red marks all around her ribcage wherever it dug into her. She'd picked the bra because it made her look much more flat-chested than she really was. Three years and a cup size ago, Elliot had told her that her breasts made her look "cheap" and called them "udders."

She still couldn't bring herself to look at them in the mirror, but Thule had given her something to think about. Considering the position he had her in, Marigold couldn't imagine why he would go out of his way to compliment her. In fact, he could have been as cruel and mean-spirited as he wanted and Marigold still would have forced herself to comply.

Whenever she'd caught men staring at her chest, Marigold had always secretly feared that it was because they found her grotesque and were going to mock her later. Putting the fear into words made her chuckle, but she still couldn't entirely shake it.

In the shower, Marigold considered crying over the situation she'd been forced into, but no tears came. Instead, she took the time to reflect. Before today, she'd worked hard to believe that Thule was beneath her notice. If he weren't trailing her GPA by the tiniest amount, she really wouldn't have known he existed. She was taking one more advanced placement class than him now. Along with Thule 's single A- sophomore year, this was the only difference in their grades. No matter how well Marigold had done, Thule had dogged her steps. More infuriatingly, he seemed to do it effortlessly. He didn't do any extra work, never volunteered for anything, showed little respect for the teachers, and with few exceptions, left school as soon as it was over. Marigold could count his extracurriculars on one hand. On several occasions, she had complained to teachers who cut him slack because he handed in an assignment late, citing "work" or some equally ludicrous excuse as the reason. Too many of them considered him some kind of wunderkind that would one day reflect well on the school.

Marigold had always refused to see their race for grades as a competition. Thule was not an adversary. He was an obstacle--socially invisible, always hanging out with misfits from the undesirable cliques. It hadn't always been that way. Freshman year, he'd been much more of a jock and a friend of both Randy Vandevoort's and Elliot's. He'd been dating Marigold's best friend, Maya. Even though Maya was a bit of a theater nerd, she'd also been on the JV cheerleading squad with Marigold and Brianne. Three quarters of the way into freshman year, the three of them had been the only ones with perfect GPAs. But Maya had moved away before the year was over. The first day of Sophomore year, Thule had come back with hair already below his collar, distanced himself from many of his old friends, and not even tried out for the track team.

As he'd sunk further and further off of the social radar, Thule 's old friends had either disassociated themselves from him or fallen into less desirable cliques themselves. Marigold knew that, by all rights, she should now be a social pariah for having let him touch her, worse having put his cock in her mouth. She could still taste the bitterness. But, it had been late. No one had been there to see what happened. No one had seen her leave with him. It was as if tonight had happened in an entirely different world, where there were no consequences for who you let touch you or how.

Surreptitiously, Marigold turned the shower head to its most forceful setting and detached it from the wall. She'd been told often enough in religious training that touching herself was a sin. She considered this a loophole, since she never actually touched herself.

Thule might be revolting and unacceptable, but he'd made her body feel so good. Marigold tried to duplicate that feeling, but even with one hand on her breast and the other directing the pulse of water between her legs, she couldn't. Frustrated, she slammed the shower head back into place, adjusted it back to its lowest setting, and turned it off.

In her room, dressing for bed, Marigold decided that there was nothing to be done about her situation tonight. Standing in the middle of the room dressed in a long t-shirt, she decided to lock her door and wear nothing else. Curled up under her comforter, she fell asleep--one hand pressed between her thighs, not there for self-abuse but just there, the other on her chest, still trying to figure out what Thule had done to make her feel so good.

                          ===

Marigold and Thule had the same classes all morning. He seemed to take no notice of her, focusing on the work and talking with his usual circle of unacceptable friends. It wasn't until Marigold asked a question in fourth period AP computer programming that he acknowledged her existence. The question was a particularly tricky one and the teacher stared blankly at her when she asked it.

"I can help her with that, Mr. Shaw," Thule offered.

The teacher, who was in way over his head, nodded his grateful assent, "Thank you, Bart."

Thule pulled up a chair next to Marigold. The few socially aware types in the class turned to watch, but when he started actually explaining what she'd just asked, they turned away.

Thule interrupted himself mid-thought, "Come and sit with me today at lunch."

Marigold turned abruptly to face him, "What?"

"You heard me," Thule said.

"I will not," Marigold hissed indignantly.

Thule shrugged, "It's your choice. What you need to remember is that arrays are stored in contiguous memory, so you can..."

"What do you mean my choice?" Marigold asked. "I can just say no."

Thule looked Marigold in the face so that she could see the seriousness in his eyes, "You can always say no and live with the consequences."

Marigold looked around rapidly to make sure no one was eavesdropping, "You're trying to ruin me. " she sputtered. "Haven't you done enough already?"

Thule 's shrug was more expansive this time, but there was iron in his voice. "Sit with me at lunch," he said, "Or don't. As I said, it's your choice."

                          ===

Marigold almost didn't do it. In many ways, it had been easier to strip for him, even easier to take his cock in her mouth than it was to walk across that cafeteria to where he sat, eating alone, reading a computer magazine. At least he hadn't sat at the table with all of the computer geeks. When Marigold sat down, he didn't even look up immediately, but went right on reading. Marigold felt like he was the only one in the whole cafeteria ignoring her. She started to flush crimson and almost fled before he looked up.

"That's a very pretty skirt you're wearing," he said. "You should wear them more often."

If the skirt had been anything other than calf-length and loose fitting, it would have come out as lewd. As it was, it just left her puzzled.

"All right," she said, "I'm here. What do you want?"

"What do I want?" Thule 's eyes flashed dangerously. "I want to have lunch with my friend." He raised his voice on the last word, just enough for the nearest eavesdroppers to hear it and start whispering at this new development.

Stubbornly, Marigold ignored the statement and started eating. Thule went back to his magazine.

"You can't just sit there and ignore me," she said desperately. "Otherwise, why am I sitting here? Talk to me."

Thule looked up at her, holding her gaze for a long moment, like he would refuse. Then, he closed the magazine and put it aside, "OK, dear. What would you like to talk about?"

Marigold searched desperately for something to say, "You sure seem to know a lot about computers. Where did you learn it all?"

To her surprise, Thule smiled, "I've had computers at home since I was in grade school."

"How did you afford that?" Marigold asked. The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

Thule just stared at her, apparently enjoying her obvious discomfort. Finally, he said, "The first one came out of a dumpster behind the IBM building in Tuxedo. For the second one, my father sold enough blood until we could buy it second-hand from the government. I financed my most recent one by letting dirty old men take pictures of me in my underwear."

Marigold's face fell as a wave of sympathy washed over her, " Thule , that's terrible. I..." The grin on Thule 's face made her realize he'd been joking. Marigold scowled at him, "You're awful."

Thule 's grin widened. "The first machine was a Christmas present from my father. It was more of a toy than a real computer. I spent years making it do what it shouldn't have been able to do. The second, I paid for by mowing lawns and shoveling sidewalks. The third, my father wanted to give me money to get a better car. I spent it on a new computer instead. Since then, they've paid for themselves. Why are you taking AP programming?"

Marigold put down her sandwich, "The same reason I'm taking all of my AP classes. An A in an AP class counts as 4.3 towards your GPA as opposed to a 4.1 in a Regent's class. If I'd known you weren't taking AP Spanish this year, I could have skipped it."

"It really chaps your ass that I'm Salutatorian, doesn't it?" Thule asked.

"Of course not," Marigold snapped.

"Marigold," he said, stretching out the syllables of her name like he was talking to a small child, "do you really think it's a secret?"

Marigold shrugged, "Are you going to be Salutatorian? I know there are a few people close to my GPA, but I don't really pay attention to class rankings."

"You are so full of shit," Thule said. Marigold grinned broadly at him, letting him know, he'd been had.

"Oh, my God," he said, "You have a sense of humor."

Sensing a lightening of the mood, Marigold leaned in to speak lower, "Why are you making me do this?"

"You're not enjoying our conversation?" Thule asked, one eyebrow raised.

"I would enjoy it more if it were more private," Marigold said, running a hand through her hair.

Thule 's face clouded, "If you're ashamed of your new friend, I guess we can meet again in the newspaper office after school." Before Marigold could interrupt him, he picked up his magazine and waved her away, "Go sit with your other friends. I have reading to do."

Dismissed, Marigold almost fled the table. Standing in the middle of the cafeteria floor with her tray in her hands, she began to feel panic rising in her chest. She didn't want to deal with Brianne, who would invariably take the opportunity to needle her for sitting with Thule , however briefly. She could sit with the "Christian clique," but she'd stopped sitting there more than a year ago and never looked back. They would forgive her of course, but they would enjoy forgiving her the same way Brianne enjoyed needling her. Marigold was about ready to throw the rest of her lunch away and go hide in the library when she spotted her way out.

Sitting at the table with the JV cheerleaders was Dawn, the closest thing Marigold had on the squad to a personal friend. Marigold had dropped out of cheerleading sophomore year to focus on her studies, the same year Dawn had joined.

What had enamored Marigold to Dawn was her complete lack of interest in any kind of social climbing. She seemed blissfully unaware of the fact that she hovered on the outer fringe of popularity and never went out of her way to knock others down in order to raise her own status.

Of course, that meant that Dawn would never be head cheerleader, even though she was much more capable than either Brianne or her hand-picked successor, June Kane. It also meant that Brianne often used Dawn as her whipping girl whenever it amused her to do so. Apparently, Dawn had been exiled from the varsity table today, but didn't seem phased by it in the slightest. Instead, she was chatting away happily with the freshman and sophomore girls at the jayvee table. When Marigold tenatively approached the table, Dawn waved her over enthusiastically.

With a sigh of relief, Marigold sat down. No sooner had her tray hit the table than Dawn said, "I saw you sitting with Thule . I had no idea you two were friends."

Marigold almost shot back an angry retort before she realized that Dawn hadn't meant anything by the statement and was just gossiping. Instead, she stammered out, "We're not. Well, not exactly." She winced as her imagination presented several possible scenarios that might play out if Thule caught her actively denying their friendship and finished weakly, "I guess we are, but it's a recent development."

Dawn wrinkled her nose, a move that highlighted the spray of freckles that dotted her face, "That's cool."

Marigold was stunned. Being friends with Thule Roemer was the antithesis of cool. Looking at the way many of the jayvees seemed to eat up Dawn's every word, Marigold had a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach that many of them would realize the truth only when they found themselves spurned by association.

                          ===

Several times during the day, Marigold tried to approach Thule , maybe to apologize, maybe to try to make an excuse not to be there that night. But, he managed to avoid being anywhere that she could talk to him privately. With a sigh of resignation, she headed down to the newspaper office to await their next meeting.

When she got there, Thule was nowhere to be seen, but a few staffers were. The newspaper wasn't really more than announcements of upcoming events and awards won, so most of the time in the office was spent socializing.

As soon as Marigold sat at her desk, Brianne detached herself from the conversation she was having and marched over, malice clear in her eyes.

"So," Brianne said too casually, "I missed you at lunch today. What did you and the nerd king have to talk about?"

This much Marigold had rehearsed for at least, "I needed to ask him about some stuff we'd covered in programming class." The lie did not roll easily off of her tongue, even if it was mostly true.

"Really?" asked Brianne, "I hear he's your new best friend and that Elliot's ready to beat him to a bloody pulp."

Marigold shrugged, wondering who had ratted her out, "Elliot has got nothing to be pissed about unless people have been gossiping and taking things way out of context." She gave the two gerunds heavy emphasis before changing the subject, "Is your piece on the prom done yet?"

"I handed it to you yesterday," Brianne said.

"I know," snapped Marigold. "If you need help using the spell checker, there are plenty of people here who know how. I also marked up a few places where it needed to be reworked. Try to have it done before you leave."

Brianne would have answered, but Marigold turned back to her computer dismissively. The head cheerleader flounced away. Marigold felt an unfamiliar surge of power. It was not in her nature to force people to back down. But, Brianne had really gotten on her nerves. It had been her damned prom article, clearly written with no thought in about ten minutes that had kept Marigold in the office so late, trying to make sense of it. Worse, the girl couldn't spell worth a damn and seemed to barely know how to construct an article after four years on the newspaper. Brianne's father ran the local Pennysaver and let her write a column about local shopping. Brianne seemed to be under the impression that what she did passed as journalism. Somehow, she'd managed to weasel her way into an admission into Columbia School of Journalism for next year. Marigold was sure Brianne hadn't written her own admissions essay either. By all rights, she should have been the one washing semen out of her hair last night.

She chuckled bitterly to herself. Thule wouldn't be interested in a bimbo like Brianne. They would have nothing in common. The very idea....

Marigold quickly clamped down on that line of thought and got back to work. People began filtering out. There were only a few left when Thule showed up. He went over to one of the workstations at the wall and began running a diagnostic. A couple of minutes later, two of the remaining people left, so that only Marigold, Brianne, and Thule were left. Marigold became terrified that he would say something before they were alone. But, he sat in front of the computer and read a paperback as if oblivious to the presence of anyone else in the room

Eventually, Brianne shut off her computer, walked up to Marigold, and said loudly, "My prom article is done. I hope you two have fun." The way she said it made it clear what sort of fun she was insinuating.

Even after she left, Thule just sat reading for what seemed like a long time. Marigold got up from her desk, closed and locked the office door.

Thule gave a low whistle, "What a bitch."

Marigold nodded in agreement, "She's certainly not my favorite person."

Thule put down his book, "Why are you friends with her, then?"

"I'm not," Marigold answered quickly. "We run in the same circles. That's all."

Thule swiveled his chair towards her, "You eat lunch with her. Before the homeroom bell, you stand in with the phalanx of cheerleaders she keeps around her, even though you haven't been on the squad in more than two years. It seems like every time I see you outside of class, you're in her wake. That seems awfully friendly."

Marigold looked down at him and said, "It doesn't mean anything. It's just...being nice."

Thule didn't look up, "Do you think you're a nice person, Marigold?"

"I...I try to be." Marigold looked uncertain. "I haven't always been. Thule , I'm sorry about today in the cafeteria."

"Sorry," he asked too casually, "in what way? Are you repentant?"

"Yes," Marigold said earnestly. "Like that."

"So, you want to be my friend now? Want everyone to know that we're friends?" Thule looked hopeful.

"Sure," Marigold said weakly. "maybe not everything about what we do, but friends is okay. I already told my friend Dawn that we're friends."

Thule looked her squarely in the eye, "How fucking stupid do you think I am?"

"I..."

"Come here," he ordered. "Sit in my lap."

"What do you want?" Marigold asked desperately. "Do you want another blow job? You want to see my tits again? Will that make you happy?" She started pulling off her sweatshirt.

"I want," Thule said evenly, "for you to come here and sit on my lap."

Marigold felt something inside of her snap and she began crying. "I can't do this anymore," she said angrily. "Go ahead. Tell Harvard about essay. I'll apply to...another good school. It's not the end of the world."

Thule looked at her evenly, as if waiting for her to take the statement back. "It's always your choice," he said finally, "but we're beyond the Harvard essay now."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"What kind of college will admit a girl who give blow jobs on school grounds?"

"You have no proof," Marigold exclaimed, wishing it to be true.

Thule reached over to the computer behind him and, with a few mouse clicks, brought up a small window. By the low-quality image and jerky motions, the short movie was a web cam recording of the previous night.

"You recorded me?" Marigold shouted angrily, "You monster." She threw herself at Thule , intent on doing him real physical harm. But, at barely five foot tall, she was able to do little against Thule 's massive frame. He caught her wrists, spinning her around and pulling her into his lap.

"How could you?" Marigold cried. "How could you do this to me?"

Thule growled in her ear, "I did it because I intend to keep you for a while. You're going to do what I tell you. But, I'll make you a promise. If you're a good girl and do what you're told between now and when you leave for Harvard, you're free. I won't bother you anymore."

In spite of herself, Marigold felt hope well up in her chest, "Really? Do you promise?"

Thule nodded against the back of her hair, "I promise. I'm good for my promises. I told you yesterday I wouldn't rape you and I didn't, did I?"

"No," Marigold admitted grudgingly, "I guess you didn't....What do you want me to do?"

Thule loosened his hold on her, "From now until September, you're my girlfriend. Get rid of Magic Earring Ken. You're going to be my kind of girlfriend. I am not going to be your kind of boyfriend. Do I need to be clearer?"

"But..." Marigold twisted to face him.

"What?" he asked harshly.

"My parents will never allow that. They expect me to marry Elliot once I graduate from Harvard. He's a nice, Christian boy. He'll be a good husband. Even if I had a good reason to leave him, they'd never let me out of the house if I were seeing you."

Thule shrugged, "I have no intention of making this easy for you, Marigold. You've taken something very valuable from me and I intend to take away some things that you value at least as much. You'll have to make it work."

"I can't," Marigold pleaded. " Thule , please. Jonas would never allow it. You don't know him. He expects me to marry Elliot after Harvard. If he thought I was dating you, he would never let me out of the house. If I defy him, I don't know what he'll do. But, he can be impossible when he gets an idea in his head. He might even refuse to pay for Harvard. Please, Thule ."

Thule frowned thoughtfully, "Well, I don't have much power over you if you're not going to Harvard anyway. I guess we'll have to do things a little differently."

"Oh, thank you," Marigold exclaimed loudly, wrapping her arms around Thule 's neck. The relief was genuine.

"Hold up," Thule said. "There are conditions."

Marigold nodded, listening attentively.

Thule counted off on his fingers, "One, you will find a way to spend next weekend with me. I'll pick you up Friday after school and drop you off Sunday night. Two, you will make it clear to any and all of our classmates that we are friends. Three, you can go to the prom with Elliot, but you're leaving with me. I expect you to arrange a suitable prom date."

Marigold thought about it. If she agreed, she'd be an outcast, but there were less than two months left in the school year. After what she'd already done to get there, it was a tolerable price to pay for Harvard. "I don't know how I'll manage number one," she began. Thule scowled, but before he could speak, she added, "but I'll find a way. You're going to ruin me socially with numbers two and three, but I expect that's part of why you're demanding them."

Thule nodded, "Also..."

"There's more?" asked Marigold, a note of panic creeping into her voice. "I thought that was it."

Thule grinned wickedly at her, "You've forced me to revise my demands. Now, I'm making them up as I go along."

Marigold's shoulders slumped, "All right. What?"

"I want you to stop hiding your body," he said. Marigold stiffened up. "At least for the prom. I want everyone to see how beautiful you are at least once."

Marigold nodded. The idea made her feel a little bit queasy, but it was minor compared to what she'd already agreed to.

Thule looked thoughtful, "You're sure you can't acknowledge that we're dating?"

Marigold shook her head, "Jonas would never allow it."

"So," said Thule , "if I could acquire Jonas's consent, you would admit that we were dating?"

Marigold relaxed against him. That was one contingency she would never have to fulfill. She tried not to sound too relieved, "Sure."

Thule stroked her hair, gentle tilting her head back enough that he could kiss away the tears Marigold had already forgotten shedding.

It was such a gentle touch that Marigold found herself leaning back until her head lay on his shoulder. " Thule ," she whispered, "can I ask a question?"

Thule nodded, his hair tickling her neck.

Marigold asked, "Do you really think I'm beautiful?"

Thule laughed, "Do you think I'd blackmail just any girl into being my girlfriend?"

"No," Marigold answered, "It would have to be someone you hated very much. But, you didn't answer my question."

"You're very beautiful, Marigold." said Thule . "I don't need to flatter you. You're going to do what I tell you because I can ruin you. That means I can tell you the absolute truth. And, the truth is that you're beautiful even when you try not to be. If you wanted to, you'd easily be the most beautiful girl at Mannsborough. I feel like I've tethered a goddess."

Marigold hadn't known before that moment that it was physically possible to blush over your entire body. Now, it felt like she was radiating enough heat to burn him through the thin layer of their clothes.

"Are you wearing panties?" Thule asked abruptly.

"Of course," Marigold answered. "What kind of question is that?"

"Take them off," Thule ordered.

Marigold balked, " Thule , you promised my first time wouldn't be in this dingy little office."

Thule gripped her chin hard in one hand and turned her to face him, "Marigold, you may be a beautiful goddess, but you'd still damned well better do what you're told without question."

Standing up off of his lap, Marigold complied, hiking up the material of her skirt until she could reach underneath and pull off her lacy, black panties. She tried to hide them, but he pulled them out of her hand, "And what does Elliot think of these?"

"Elliot's never seen them" Marigold exclaimed, flushing crimson again. "No one's supposed to see them. They're supposed to stay under my skirt."

Thule laughed, sliding one hand up her leg until it rested just below her bottom, "Come on. It didn't occur to you that I might see them?"

"I..." Marigold remembered that she had changed her underwear at the last minute today from the unflattering white panties to these rarely worn black ones, an inappropriate gift from a befuddled older relative, "I guess I thought you might. Would you have preferred my huge, white ones?"

Thule chuckled and drew her closer to him, his hand moving up to cup her buttock, "I prefer you like this best of all."

Marigold slapped him lightly on the shoulder, "Do you ever stop being a pervert?"

Thule nodded, "Sure, but you bring it out in me." His other hand slid underneath her skirt until both gripped her buttocks, kneading them gently. Marigold let out a little gasp.

" Thule ," Marigold whispered, "please don't fuck me tonight, not here. I will if you want, but I'm begging you."

Thule smiled, "You're cute when you beg, but in this case, it's totally unnecessary. I keep my word. Your much-valued virginity is yours until next weekend. Tonight, I'm just going to make you look forward to losing it."

Thule's words made Marigold feel like such a whore that she almost wept. She'd make a decision years ago to save herself for her wedding night. Besides the moral question, she knew that Harvard was going to be hard enough without sex distracting her. Once she'd made the decision, Elliot had agreed to be patient and not pressed the issue at all.

Now, Marigold found herself trembling in anticipation of Thule's touch. There was nothing in his voice that suggested he was making an idle boast.

Thule slid his hands out from under Marigold's skirt and wrapped them around her waist, drawing her to him as he rose to meet her. He was so much taller than Marigold that she had to look up to see his face. When she did, he leaned down, one hand sliding behind her head. She opened her mouth in surprise just as their lips met. Unlike Elliot, he barely used his tongue at all, preferring to dart it in and out, teasing her tongue and lips. She determined to bear up under it, but her mood quickly changed from tolerance to reluctant enjoyment. Thule's hands barely touched her, but where they did, they seemed to leave hot fingerprints on her flesh. Marigold struggled against the pleasure, not willing to just submit to what was being done to her. Still, the kisses and stroking were enough to make her forget everything but his touch. At some point, Marigold realized that she was sitting on the conference table without any memory of being lifted there. Even as she became aware of the fact, Thule was lifting her sweatshirt over her head, fumbling with the buttons on her blouse. Marigold found her traitorous hands helping him, peeling off the uncomfortable bra as quickly as she could. She wanted Thule to rub circulation back into her breasts again. Wrapping her legs around his waist Marigold leaned back, arching her back. Thule's lips traveled down her throat and chest, his hands staying wrapped firmly around her waist.

Thule's mouth came down covered one nipple, teasing the very tip of it with his tongue. Marigold gasped. The sensation was so intense for a moment that she thought she would swoon. Thule didn't let up, teasing it with his lips, teeth, and tongue. Marigold moaned, unable to fight the pleasure any longer. When had Thule laid his shirt across the table for her to lie back on? The warm flannel tickled her back. Marigold wrapped both arms around his head now, pressing him against her breast, urging him on. One hand slid from around her waist, catching and undoing the zipper on her skirt, laying it out like a blanket beneath her. Marigold realized abstractly that she was totally naked, but for her knee-high stocking now. It should have bothered her. Before it could, Thule traced a line of kisses down her belly. His hands gripped her bottom, massaging it powerfully. Suddenly, he was lifting her up, his chin forcing her legs apart. Marigold cried out in surprise, doubly so when his warm, wet tongue slipped inside of her. She started to panic at the pleasure of it. Even as her ankles locked between his shoulder blades, she tried ineffectually to push his head away.

Tear rolled freely down her cheeks now, "No, please," she begged, "It's too...much. Don't..."

Thule either didn't hear or didn't listen, driving his tongue deeper inside of her, homing in on her clitoris. Marigold writhed against him, squirming and gasping while trying desperately not to lose contact. With Thule's tongue working her most sensitive spot in the front and his hands kneading her bottom in the back, Marigold soon lost all awareness of anything but his hands, his tongue, and what they were doing to her. She squirmed. She moaned. Soon, she felt a trembling overtake her entire body, starting where his tongue touched her and working its way outward. At that moment, Marigold couldn't feel like more of a whore and she couldn't care less.

"Oh, God!" she cried out, "Oh, Thule. Oh, God."

Still, he did not relent. The pleasure went on and on, wave after wave washing over her. Even after he stopped, pulling Marigold into his lap, naked thighs straddling his legs, breasts mashed against the musculature of his bare chest, she shuddered as the aftershocks shook her. She sat in his arms, crying and letting him stroke her hair for a long time after that. She was supremely aware of his cock straining against the thin layer of fabric beneath her, embarrassingly aware of how much she wanted to slide it free of his pants and mount it right now.  Fingers trembling, she reached down, undoing his belt. Thule stood, letting his pants fall free. But, before Marigold could make her intentions known, Thule's hand was on her shoulder, pushing her to her knees. Marigold wanted to protest, but the moment of insanity passed and she was grateful to have another way out. She wrapped her mouth around Thule's cock, sucking it as he'd taught her the previous night. It was easier this time. She licked and sucked it, making up in enthusiasm what she lacked in technique. After a few minutes, Thule grabbed a fistful of her hair, trying to pull her away, "I'm coming," he gasped.

Not wanting a repeat of the uncontrolled explosion last night, Marigold refused to be dislodged, wrapping her arms around Thule and digging her fingers into his buttocks. Again the hot, bitter liquid burned her mouth and throat, but she managed to keep most of it inside this time, dribbling only a thin stream down her chin.

Thule collapsed into the chair, pulling Marigold into his lap. Their naked groins were less than a foot apart, but his didn't seem particularly threatening at the moment. She lay her head on his chest and listened to his heart until it slowed to a normal speed.

Noticing the time, Marigold leapt up abruptly from his lap, ran to her desk, and frantically dialed the phone. After three rings, Jonas picked up, "Yes?"

"It's me, sir." she said, "I lost track of time again. I'm still at the newspaper. We had to do physical layout tonight. I'll be done real soon."

There was a long paused and then a sigh at the other end of the line, "Marigold, I thought I made it clear last night that you were not to stay at that office so late night after night."

"Yes, Sir. I'm sorry, Sir. Things just ran late and..."

"If you hurry home, we should still have time to talk about those verses. Should I stay up?"

"Yes, Sir," said Marigold. "I'd like that. I'll be home soon."

Thule chuckled, "Boy. He must be a real hard-ass."

"He's concerned about my upbringing," Marigold said defensively. "He's afraid I'll forget everything I was taught when I leave in September. If he only knew..." Her voice trailed off as she started crying.

Thule was up, his arms around her, before Marigold even knew he had moved, "What's the matter?" he asked.

"I'm such a slut," Marigold whispered, "I don't have to go away to disappoint him."

"Hey," said Thule, comfortingly, "come on. You're not a slut. I'm blackmailing you. Remember?"

Marigold laughed miserably, "I wish it were that easy. But, I liked it. And, I wanted....no, never mind."

"You wanted what?" he asked, "Tell me, my tethered goddess."

She smiled at the nickname, "I wanted more. I wanted it all. I didn't want you in my mouth. I wanted you between my legs. Even here, even now. God knows what I am."

Thule nodded, "God knows that you're a screwed up chick if you think you're bad for enjoying this. God made sex feel good. He didn't do it because he wanted us to avoid it. He wants us to fuck. God is a big fan of fucking."

Marigold chuckled, wiping her eyes, "I don't remember that verse in the Bible."

Thule leaned down to kiss her, "You need to read between the lines."