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From: michaeld38@aol.communism (MichaelD38)
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Subject: {ASSM} The Teaser {MichaelD}(MF, FF, MFF, rom)(2/6)
Date: Tue, 4 Apr 2000 03:10:04 -0400
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The Teaser
Copyright 2000 by MichaelD38@aol.com
Free redistribution permitted;
no commerical use without authorization.
Archives at www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/MichaelD/www
************************************************
III.
I got my supervising partner's blessing to take a day off and drove up
to Newport. The restaurant was a block or two away from the Fort Adams
pier. It was mid-April, still early spring for New England, and the
day, though pretty, was not warm. A few sailboats were out on the
water, chasing the elusive breeze that had bedeviled generations of
America's Cup skippers, before the Aussies had finally broken the New
York Yacht Club's monopoly in 1983.
Kate was waiting in the lobby, and she gave me a warm hug and peck on
the cheek when I walked in. As she withdrew, I looked down at her left
hand, seeing a glittering four-carat diamond on her ring finger.
"How was the ride up?" she asked.
"Slow. But not bad."
She took my arm and led me toward the hostess desk. We got a table by
the window, looking out on the water.
"So fill me in on all the gory details," I said.
Kate rolled her eyes, laughing softly.
"There's less to tell than you might think," she said. "We started
going out just after Thanksgiving the year before last. He lives in
Boston, but his folks have a place here, so he comes down a few times a
week. He proposed at Christmas. That's really about it."
She had an air of bored sophistication about her now that she had
lacked in college, more poised and jaded, you might say. Her hair was
up in a short, snappy cut, and her nails were French-manicured. I
wondered if her mother had been sending her off to the beauty salon for
some polish in preparation for her married life.
"What's he like?"
"He's great . . . or at least he can be when he wants to. He's one of
those guys who seems to need everyone's approval, you know? Got to be
everyone's best bud. Most of the time it's funny. Sort of cute. But
sometimes it can get annoying."
"I gather your parents like him?"
She laughed.
"They love him. He and my dad are always smoking cigars together, arms
over each other's shoulders, sharing a glass of Remy Martin on the back
patio. And my mother would probably marry him herself if I wasn't
around and she wasn't married already."
"What's his family do?"
"No more than he does. Or at least most of them don't. Some of them
still work. But they made their money in shipping. And his great-
something-grandfather came over on the Mayflower."
"Blood so blue it's almost black."
She laughed even harder.
"Don't let him hear you say that. He'd totally take it the wrong way,
like you were saying he was black himself."
I laughed with her.
"I guess that came out wrong."
"I know what you meant. He probably wouldn't."
The waitress came back, and we ordered lunch. Kate told me some more
about what she had been up to over the last year, and I filled her in
on the life of a big-city litigator.
"Are you seeing anyone now?" she asked at one point.
"Not really. I was dating a woman I met through a guy I work with, but
it never really went anywhere."
"We've got to get you hitched up. I've got some single friends I can
introduce you to at the wedding. I can think of a few who'd love to
meet a guy like you."
"I only date cute brunettes."
She smiled slyly, knowing what I really meant. We had played that game
a lot during college, pretending things weren't the way they really
were.
"Well, I'm thinking of one. One of my bridesmaids. She's a doctor,
though she's still an intern."
"I doubt she has time for a social life then."
"She could make the time, I think, if she wanted to."
"What's her name?"
"Melissa. She's interning at a hospital in New York, so you guys could
get together if something happens at the wedding."
I grinned.
"We'll see."
We ate slowly, talking more and more about our days at Yale, and how we
had parted ways since then. Then, bit by bit, the conversation drifted
back to her impending nuptials.
"Preston is having a bachelor party in about a month. I could get you
an invite if you want to go. They're going down to Miami for the
weekend."
"I don't know. Those things sort of turn me off now. I think I left
that nonsense behind in college."
Her forehead wrinkled ever so slightly, and her eyes fixed on mine.
"I'd like you to get to know him, at least a little. Would you go?
Please?"
I tried to read what I was seeing in her face.
"I guess so. If it means that much to you."
"Thanks. It's not that it means that much, it's just . . ."
Her voice trailed off, and her eyes darted toward the window. I looked
at her, my concern growing by the moment.
Then I got it.
"I'm spying for you, aren't I? You want to hear what happens from
someone who won't be inclined to cover for him."
She forced a smile onto her face.
"Is it that obvious?"
I stared at her.
"Kate, tell me something."
The smile became a bit more genuine.
"Do I have to? I know what you're going to ask me. I could never fool
you before."
"Why are you marrying this guy?"
She sighed and turned back to the sea. She didn't say anything for
several long seconds.
"This is something you would understand better than I do, the
legalities of it anyway. All of that stuff is just Greek to me, no
matter how many times our lawyers try to explain it. Basically, there
is a trust at stake here. A big one. A very, very big one. There's
something to it, the lawyers keep calling it a `contingent remainder,'
whatever that is, that means I get nothing if I don't get married
before I'm twenty-six. I've been getting the income, but I don't get
the whole thing unless I get married."
I did some quick arithmetic.
"Your twenty-sixth birthday is in July."
She managed another weak smile.
"Bingo."
I felt myself physically wilting as this sunk in. I had never
realistically expected to be able to marry Kate--and frankly, I would
not have just up and done it even now--but to lose her to something
like this? That hurt.
"And that's what this is about?"
She put her hand over mine and squeezed it lightly.
"It's not quite that cold-blooded. I do like Preston. And I like I
said, he can be sweet when he wants to be. I think we'll be happy
together."
"But you don't love him."
She made a small shrug of surrender.
"As if that matters."
For a few seconds, the silence hung thickly in the air, like smog.
"I understand," I said finally. "As much as I can, I guess."
She squeezed my hand again.
"Thanks."
* * *
IV.
Whether or not it had any to do with wanting deflect my romantic
pretensions toward her (I would never work up the guts to ask), Kate
began our sophomore year at Yale by announcing that she was going to a)
get me fixed up with someone serious, and b) solve my virginity
problem. I had dated other girls the previous year, but as my heart
was really set on Kate, I had never slept with any of them.
She soon selected a girl named Mara, who was one of Kate's sorority
sisters and about as different from her as she could get. Where Kate
was short, slim, brown-haired and at best sort of cute, this girl was
blonde, curvy and one of those women who fall out of bed pretty. And
where Kate had been born with sophistication running through her veins,
Mara had come straight to Yale from a farm in rural Iowa.
Kate set up everything, so on the appointed evening, I walked across
campus to Mara's residential college. There I saw a pretty blonde girl
waiting on a bench outside the main entrance.
Several things shot through my head when I saw Mara for the first time:
Is that her? No, that can't be her. Then, as she met my gaze: Oh God,
please let that be her.
She wore nothing but jeans and a Yale sweatshirt, and her blonde hair
was loose and straight down her back. She smiled at me, glanced down
shyly at the pavement, then back up to see if I was still looking at
her. Then she stood up as I approached.
"Hi. Are you Tom?"
"Yeah. Are you Mara?"
"I guess so."
That reply made both of us burst into nervous giggles.
"I mean, yeah, I am," she said. "So where are we going?"
To heaven, I thought to myself. Honestly. The sparks were shooting
that thick.
"Just off campus. You know that little Italian place?"
"Sure. That's a great idea."
She fell in beside me as we began walking.
"Kate said you're from New York?"
"Midtown. Have you ever been there?"
"No. I'd love to go, though. It must be really exciting."
I shrugged in the way only a New Yorker can shrug about his hometown.
"It's okay. You're from Iowa?"
She glanced away from me briefly.
"Yeah. I bet it would be really dull after New York."
"I don't know," I said. "I've been to California, but nowhere in
between."
"Where else have you been?"
"I went to Europe a couple of times with my folks."
"Really? How was it?"
"Pretty neat. How about you?"
She colored a tiny bit in embarrassment.
"I've never been anywhere, really. I'd love to go to Europe some time
though."
Mara continued pumping me for details about the places I had been until
we sat down at our table in the restaurant. Only then did I get a
chance to learn much about her. Her father owned a farm in Iowa, and
she had been valedictorian of a high school class of 53 kids. She had
a vague Midwestern twang to her voice that came and went through the
evening, which made me think she was trying to lose it.
She was absolutely nothing like any of the girls I had known when I was
growing up in New York, who were so jaded and full of themselves and so
convinced they knew everything there was to know. Mara was just Mara.
Likewise, I (and I knew this because she said so) was nothing like the
boys she had dated in high school, who "dipped snuff and forgot to
bathe everyday," as she said in disgust. She had dated a few people at
Yale, but "nobody interesting."
We stayed at the restaurant until it became clear the staff needed us
out. We walked slowly back to campus. My hand bumped against hers
halfway back, and the two slipped together slowly.
I walked her up to the door to her room. I promised to call her. We
kissed nervously, then more deliberately. When we finally pried
ourselves apart, she had given me a definite hard-on.
A week later, I was no longer a virgin.
Despite our disparate backgrounds--or perhaps because of them--Mara and
I became an item almost immediately, and we dated steadily for nearly
two years. I remained close friends with Kate, of course, but not
until the end of my relationship with Mara did that become an issue.
The summer between our junior and senior years at Yale, I took Mara
home to meet the rest of my family. My parents had met her a few times
before during various visits to New Haven, but she had never spent more
than an hour or two in their company. She had also never met the rest
of my family, particularly my grandfather, nor had she ever been to New
York City.
When we arrived at my parents' apartment that afternoon, having taken a
cab from Grand Central, no one was home yet to meet us. Mara had spent
the entire cab ride staring wide-eyed up at all the buildings, and when
we walked in and set the bags down in the foyer, she went straight
across the living room to stare out the main window. We had a partial
view of the Park-nothing that should have been illegal, but it was nice
nonetheless-and she leaned against the glass to take it all in.
I came up behind her and hugged her.
"Pretty nice, huh?"
"Yeah. Wow. It's like nothing I've ever seen. It almost looks like a
bunch of toy houses around a garden."
"Want to take a walk over there?"
"Could we?"
"Sure."
"Okay. Let me go to the bathroom first."
She went into the restroom off the hall while I carried our bags back
to my room. I had just set them down beside my bed when I turned
around to see Mara in the doorway with a confused look on her face.
"What?"
"This is going to sound stupid, but . . . why are there two toilets in
there?"
It took me a second or two to realize what was giving her problems.
"There aren't. One of them is a bidet."
Her forehead creased even further.
"A what?"
I tried to explain, and her face colored in embarrassment as I did. It
was a look I had seen before.
"Oh. Sorry."
She disappeared back into the hall before I could say anything else.
When she returned, we descended to the street and walked a few blocks
down East 70th Street before reaching Central Park. Mara continued
looking around at everything, though she seemed a bit subdued now. It
was a beautiful June day for New York, warm but not yet humid as it
would get in July. We stopped by the Turtle Pond and lay back on the
grass together looking up at the sky.
"This is pretty," she said a few minutes later.
"It is."
"It doesn't feel like we're in New York."
"That's why it's so crowded. It's about the only place to get away
from all that."
She rolled over, laying her head on my chest. I ran my fingers through
her hair. Blonde like corn silk, I thought, like the corn her family
farmed on 500 acres in northwestern Iowa. A place I had never seen and
frankly had no desire to ever visit, even though Mara had never let me
meet her parents.
"I love you," she said softly.
I hugged her.
"I love you, too."
* * *
When we returned to the apartment, my mother was home from work and
getting dinner together for that evening, as my grandparents were
coming over to see us. She greeted us warmly and inquired briefly
about our trip south.
"Can I help with dinner?" Mara asked.
"Sure," she said. "In fact, could you get me the shiitake mushrooms
out of the bottom drawer of the refrigerator?"
I saw a familiar look of embarrassed confusion shoot through Mara's
eyes and went to help her out. I found the mushrooms and gave them to
her.
"Thanks," she whispered.
Mara chopped up the mushrooms and some other vegetables for the recipe
my mother was making while we discussed school and our plans for next
year. My father returned home about twenty minutes later, and shortly
after that, my grandparents buzzed up from the building foyer. I could
see Mara getting progressively more nervous, and I went over and
squeezed her hand.
"Relax. I'm sure it will be fine."
I answered the door when they arrived. My grandfather shook my hand
vigorously.
"Tom, good to see you. How have you been?"
"Good. School is going well."
I kissed my grandmother on the cheek and then introduced them to Mara.
"It's nice to meet you, ma'am," she said.
"And you too, dear," my grandmother said. "Tom tells me you're from
Iowa."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Where in Iowa?"
"Granite. It's a little town near Sioux Falls, South Dakota. My
family has a farm there."
My grandmother gave me an unctuous smile.
"Well, you've certainly come a long way."
We made idle chit-chat for another fifteen minutes until my mother
announced that dinner was ready. Mara helped her serve it, and we all
sat down in the dining room.
"Tom, you'll be applying to the Law School this fall, won't you?" my
grandfather asked.
"Yeah. I'm taking the LSAT in a few weeks."
"How are your grades going?"
"Good enough, I hope. I just need to do well on the test."
"Well, you've always tested well," my father said. "We've all got our
fingers crossed."
"What are you studying, dear?" my grandmother asked Mara.
"Economics."
"What do you think you'll do with it?"
"I'm not really sure yet. I want to go to graduate school, so I'll
probably go on and get an MBA or MPA. I might work for a year or two
first, though."
"Are you going to stay on the East Coast or move back to Iowa?" my
father asked.
Mara glanced briefly at me.
"I don't know yet. I guess I'll decide when I graduate."
The conversation drifted back to my father's job and the general
aspects of lawyering, and nothing unusual happened the rest of the
evening. My grandparents went home and my parents retired to their
room. Mara insisted on doing the dishes, and I stayed in the kitchen
to help her.
"How did I do?" she asked.
"You did fine. They're always like that."
"I don't think your grandmother liked me."
I leaned over to kiss her on the cheek.
"Give her time. And what matters is that *I* like you."
She giggled, nuzzling my head.
"I can't believe your parents are letting me stay in your room."
"They're pretty cool about stuff like that."
"My folks would never let us do that in a million years. I mean, not
unless we were m-"
She cut herself off, then began to blush. I kissed her again.
"Right."
We finished with the dishes and went back to my room to watch
television. Mara changed into her nightshirt and flopped onto the bed.
She lay on her stomach and propped her chin up in her hands to watch
the TV. I was leaning against the headboard, and when she settled into
place beside me, I reached up to caress her thighs. She giggled but
stayed put, even when I lifted up the hem of her nightshirt to see if
she was wearing panties. She wasn't. I reached up further to cup a
firm buttock in my hand.
"What are you doing?" she asked softly.
"You'll see."
I slid my hand downward, finding the warm nest between her thighs. I
tickled her gently, and she began rolling her hips against my fingers.
I kept it up until she started to lubricate, and then I slowly slipped
my middle finger inside her. She gasped, legs tensing, but let me.
Using my thumb and middle finger, I masturbated her gently for a few
minutes, and her hips were soon moving with me. She lay down flat on
the end of the mattress, head on her arm, biting at her fist. I
watched her rising toward orgasm, thinking that my grandmother had been
right about how far Mara had come, though not in the way she meant.
Mara had not been a virgin when we met, but she might as well have been
when it came to understanding her own needs and reactions. Sex in
Granite, Iowa, she would tell me later, was just something girls did
for their boyfriends. When I went down on her the first time we slept
together, it was literally the first time she had ever reached orgasm
in her life, whether alone or with someone else. She had never even
masturbated, for God's sake. She had lost her virginity at fifteen,
while I had never made it beyond second base before that night, but
somehow I felt as if *I* were the one with the experience.
Mara let out a little cry as I continued to pleasure her, and then her
hips were bouncing rapidly against my hand as she finally came. I
finished her off and withdrew, sucking her arousal off my fingers.
"Mmm," she sighed.
"Mmm," I said.
She opened her eyes, seeing I was doing, and laughed softly.
"God."
"Come here."
She crawled around and straddled me, sitting in my lap. I played with
her firm breasts, tweaking her nipples through the fabric as she kissed
me.
"I love you so much," she moaned.
"Mmm. You too."
She reached down and pulled her nightshirt over her head, leaving
herself naked. Then she kissed her way down my chest, pausing to suck
on my nipples, before finding my erection and pulling it through the
fly of my boxers. She gave it a few slow licks before taking most of
it into her mouth.
She bobbed slowly over me, working lips and tongue hard against the
most sensitive spots. Mara had gotten very good at this over the year
and a half we had been dating, in part because she frequently asked me
what I liked and how I wanted her to do it. She kept up a slow massage
on the head of my penis for several minutes, then began bobbing more
rapidly. All the while, she was gently caressing my balls and thighs
with her free hand. I felt myself growing close to orgasm and tried to
pull her up, but she shook her head, not letting go. I groaned,
running my fingers through her hair as she tried to finish me off. I
felt her sucking tightly, bringing her lips and tongue hard against my
cock, then began bobbing as fast as she could go. A few moments later,
she had me on the brink, and then my come was spurting wetly into her
mouth. I felt her gulping it down as it came, and only when it was all
out did she finally withdraw, crawling up to lie in my arms.
I laughed softly when I caught my breath.
"I wanted to make love to you," I said.
"Later. I just love making you feel good."
"You did."
She snuggled closer to me, nuzzling my neck. I turned off the lights
and the television, and we crawled under the covers, kissing and
caressing each other. After about fifteen minutes of random cuddling
and fondling, my erection returned and Mara pulled me onto her body. I
slipped into her, and we made love slowly and quietly in the dark.
* * *
We spent the rest of the week sightseeing and shopping around New York,
and we hit all the requisite tourist spots. Sunday afternoon, as we
were window-shopping on Fifth Avenue on the way home, we walked past a
jewelry store, and Mara slowed down to look at the pieces in the
display windows. One of them caught my eye, a two-carat diamond
engagement ring. I looked at Mara, seeing what appeared to be a
hopeful gleam in her eyes. At that moment, something clicked in my
head.
This was not the first time I ever thought of the possibility of
someday marrying Mara, but that instant was the first time I seriously
considered it. I don't quite know what triggered this epiphany--it
wasn't the first time we had walked past a jewelry store together or
even the first time she had sent me those sorts of matrimonial signals.
But as we continued our walk back to my parents' apartment, I realized
that for the first time in my life, I could actually ask someone to
marry me, and she would almost certainly agree.
We had a year left at Yale. If I wanted to marry Mara next June, after
graduation, now was the time to ask. We might be pretty young to be
doing it, but I loved her. That seemed to be enough.
* * *
I would have asked her. Except for what happened that night.
* * *
At six, my grandparents came over for dinner again. Mara was in the
kitchen helping my mother and grandmother prepare a roast. My father
was still at work but on his way home. My grandfather appeared at my
side with two glasses of scotch in his hands. He gave me one and
motioned for me to join him out on the balcony. I did.
"You and Mara are quite the couple."
I nodded, not sure what to say to that.
"She's a nice girl," he said.
"Thanks."
"Have you thought much about the future, what's going to happen after
you graduate?"
"Not really," I lied. "We've talked about it, but nothing serious."
He reached out and rubbed my shoulder.
"Tom, don't take this the wrong way, I mean, she's a sweet girl, but
love alone isn't enough to make a successful marriage."
Distress shot through my gut.
"What do you mean?"
He took a sip of his drink and pondered for a moment.
"One thing I've noticed throughout my life is that men will not advance
very far in the world without the right woman at their side. However
hard I've worked, I would not have accomplished half of what I have
without your grandmother. I surely would not be sitting behind a bench
right now without her. She's the one who really made the contacts I
needed for that, made sure people knew what I could do. I think the
same thing goes for your parents. Your father had loads of talent,
just like you do, but it was your mother who honed him into who he is."
I swallowed hard.
"And you don't think Mara could do that."
He sighed.
"I want you to understand that I do like her, and she does seem like a
wonderful person . . . I just think she's lacking in the sort of polish
she needs if you're going to be a successful lawyer."
"She's from Iowa. It's not like she grew up here."
He nodded.
"That is my point."
"There's nothing wrong with Iowa."
"I didn't say there was. If you live in Iowa. In New York, though . .
. I think it may prove to be a handicap."
I looked back into the house, watching Mara with my mother and
grandmother. My stomach tightened as the color of this scene changed
before my eyes. A few minutes earlier it had looked like a vision of
the future, grandmother, mother and wife cooking together. Now Mara
simply looked like an intruder.
My grandfather shook my shoulder again.
"You know her much better than I do, so maybe I'm wrong about her. I
just want you to think about what I'm saying."
"Okay."
"Whatever happened to that other girl you were seeing, what was her
name, with the brown hair?"
"Kate."
"Kate, right. What happened to her?"
"Nothing. We're just friends."
"Well, that girl, I could see you marrying. You could go a long way
with her beside you."
* * *
I had lost much of my appetite by the time we sat down to eat. The
food moved around as we served each other.
"Could someone pass the Burgundy, please?" Mara asked.
My grandmother picked up the bottle of wine as a patronizing smile
spread across her face.
"It's not Burgundy, dear, it's Bordeaux. There's a difference."
Mara glanced at me quickly. The knot in my stomach turned into a ball
of lead.
"Oh. Sorry."
* * *
Though it would be another month before I broke up with her, my
relationship with Mara effectively ended that night. Though I truly
loved her, I realized in the back of my mind that a marriage to Mara
was not for me. She was too unsophisticated and unpolished, even with
her Ivy League education, for me to feel comfortable presenting her to
the family as my future bride.
No one could fault Mara's intentions--she certainly tried her best--but
she was simply lost in a setting more formal than a casual dinner
party. My grandfather had actually been overestimating her meager
social graces, and the more they got to know her, the worse it would
have gotten. No one would have tried to stop me were I dead set on
marrying her, but the pall of disappointment that would lay over such a
union would ultimately have poisoned whatever I had with her.
My grandfather was right about Kate. She would have been perfect in
that respect. But I would have had the same problem with her family
that Mara had with mine. And it was up to poor Mara, sadly enough, to
point out that irony during our final, tearful, confrontation. I don't
know what she might have told Kate, if anything, but I was too ashamed
of what I had done to ever discuss any of it with her myself.
* * *
***********************************************
The Teaser
Copyright 2000 by MichaelD38@aol.com
Free redistribution permitted;
no commerical use without authorization.
Archives at www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/MichaelD/www
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Michael
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