It was two in the morning of Christmas Eve (or, I suppose, properly, Christmas Day) that I got the phone call from Marilynn Williams.
I had sort of known Marilynn for a couple of years, but only sort of. She was a young woman who had dated a couple of men I knew, and presumably several I didn't. The times I talked to her she seemed pleasant and intelligent, but I had never really gone out with her — mostly because I had been dating others. She seemed nice enough, though.
That "really" was because a friend of mine was part of a group of four going to a concert, and he bowed out because of a stomach virus but called me to substitute (and get back the price of the ticket). I did not pay for Marilynn, but the other couple was definitely a couple, so what constitutes a date is the question, I guess. I never asked her out again, though we got along well.
She did not seem to have any long relationships, but she was young enough that she might not have been interested at the time. I did not think about her in particular, one way or another, until she called. I did not even know where she lived, though I think I knew it wasn't far from me. The once we went out together she walked to my place. All this sounds like I had thought about her a lot, but really it's that afterward I had tried to reconstruct what I had known about her.
The reason she was calling me at 2 a.m. was that she was looking for a place to stay. There was a fire in her apartment building (probably somebody hooking up a Christmas tree stupidly, one fireman told her) and while her part of the building was safe, with maybe damp halls, the fire department was not letting anybody back in.
She went down the list of everybody whose numbers she remembered, and nobody was home over the holiday, and then she started looking up names in the directory, or really getting numbers from directory assistance because somebody tore up the directory in this phone booth, and this was the last of the quarters she borrowed, and she was getting cold, and… Could she sleep on a couch or in a corner or something?
That was all in one breath, punctuated by shivers, so she was cold for sure. And while she was talking, I thought: the place is a mess. She can help move stuff off the couch. This is a hell of a night to be out, with the two feet of snow and the fact that it had half-melted already, so the top of everything was ice. (Maybe worse where she was, with the heat from the fire.) So when she stopped for breath, I just said: "Where are you?"
It was only about four blocks, and I put on a heavy coat for the trip. A car would be useless, I thought, since the fire trucks would keep me away from where she was. As soon as I opened the door to the street, I found out that a wind had come up during the night, and it was a strong and cold one.
That trip was like something from a dream, or maybe a nightmare, with half the houses lit up with lights and everything covered in icicles — the pavement too. And being awakened at 2 a.m. added to the effect.
The fire was visible a block away, audible further than that, and I could make out Marilynn Williams easily. She saw me and turned toward me, and I could see that she was dressed in an old top coat with one button, and cotton pajamas. (The coat, when I asked her later, she said was the warmest she had.)
When we were a dozen feet apart, I saw a mass of ice on one building loosen and fall toward her. I yelled at Marilynn to move back, and she did so without thinking. That turned out to be a mixed blessing. The ice actually hit to the right of where she had been, right into a big puddle from melted snow and fire-hose water, where a storm-drain had been blocked up. The splash went right for her.
So instead of a cold unhappy young woman, we now had a freezing soaked miserable young woman. I took off my coat, which normally would have been not as good as what Marilynn had but was dry, and put it on her. Hers I carried, figuring that I would suffer less in the four blocks than she.
We really only walked one block. A man saw us, got the situation in a sentence, and drove us the rest. Once in my apartment, I moved her into my bathroom, stripping my coat off as I did. I told her to pass me her pajamas so I could hang them up, and take a hot shower so she could get halfway back to normal.
Her hand was waving the soaked clothing from the door in a few seconds, and I grabbed it. That place did not have either washer or dryer; I just took laundry down in the basement, but that was locked up now. This may be a good place to describe Marilynn Williams. She was five foot two, dark-haired, a long face (more so at that moment), with small but nice breasts and a trim body. Not that I saw it at that moment; all I saw was the waving hand. Long fingers.
A couple of minutes later I walked into the bathroom with a couple of fresh towels, a set of my old pajamas, a bathrobe, and a cup of hot chocolate. She acted disturbed from what I could see behind the shower door (all I really recall seeing was one nipple, dark against the skin) so I called to her what I was leaving, and left.
Soon she emerged, saying to me, "I'm still cold, I'm still very tired, but I'm a lot better. I want to thank you very much."
I started to tell Marilynn to forget it, it was nothing, but instead decided to tease her a bit. "It's very seldom that I find a woman who is actually eager to go into my apartment, get naked, and spend the night with me."
She blushed very prettily, laughed a bit, and replied, "My God, I hadn't thought of it that way!"
I had cleared the couch while she was showering, so we sat there. The cup of cocoa got rid of the tiredness, for a while at least, but soon she said, "I must have really been chilled to the bone. Could you turn the heat up in here?"
"The whole building's on a timer, and I'm not sure it would help much anyway. The only real solution is to stand in the kitchen by an open flame. Or– well, I hesitate to suggest it, since we don't know each other all that well, but I could just hold you to warm you up."
Marilynn looked over at me, very seriously. "I guess I could trust you… I guess I might as well, since I'm already staying in your apartment overnight!" And she touched her hand to mine. Yes, she was chilled to the bone. A good thing my body-mass was about twice hers.
We spent some time there, my arms around her, the bathrobe over us, talking softly. She admitted to me that two of the men she called from the phone booth were home, but told her pointedly that she would not be welcome because they already had someone with them.
I told her that was short-sighted. If the other, uh, guest sleeping over was another woman, *she* would not object — though she's want to be consulted. Any amatory activities which might be postponed through discretion might be more intense later for being postponed. Taking Marilynn in for the night should raise a man in two women's estimation, and that can always be useful to a single man.
Marilynn was silent, and changed the subject.
But we both got sleepy, and that was a problem. The couch was too narrow for us both to stretch out, we could not sleep comfortably sitting up, and she still needed my warmth — or maybe just the comfort of being held.
In any case, there came a point when she said timidly, "Charlie?"
"How far could I trust you?"
"Would it be all right if we moved to your bed? I mean, I don't want you to think I want to have sex with you or anything, but you are so warm and all–"
"All I want to do is sleep, with or without you. Let's get in there fast; the more I wake up, the more you would tempt me."
The truth was that I hoped I was tired enough to sleep instead of lying there thinking about Marilynn lying beside me in bed. I took off my clothing down to shorts and got the blankets over us, and prayed it would not be a hard night. Actually, it got hard as soon as I touched her under the covers, but that's another story. I ignored it. She did not seem to notice it. But I still wished that she hadn't decided to kiss me good night.
The next thing I knew was about six in the morning, maybe three hours later, when Marilynn crawled back in beside me from a trip to the bathroom. "You should know," she said softly, "that you are the first man I have ever spent the night with."
"I should tell you," I replied, "that it's a lot more fun that way. Too many people these days just have sex and go. Lying there together afterwards is the best part in a lot of ways. You should try it."
She made an odd kind of sound, half laugh and half whimper, and lay there for a moment.
"You are so relaxed," she said. "All my boyfriends always seem so much in a hurry about — you know, going to bed."
"Hmm. Well, already being there may be a factor." She laughed. "But there's also the fact that I haven't known you well enough to be hot for your body. Though the proximity is changing that situation some."
"I never knew that a man has to know a woman to, to want her that way."
"He doesn't. But at least for me it gets stronger if I do."
"Me too. I wish…" But she never finished the sentence.
We both dropped off again.
Two hours or so later I woke to find my right arm around her, palm curled around one breast. She was holding my hand with her left one, but her right was around my erection, cupping it. She woke a little after me, and jerked her hand away when she realized where it was, lifting my hand away also. She blushed again. "I'm sorry," she said.
"No real need to apologize. Your body acts independently while you are asleep. And I like it anyway."
She rolled over and looked at me. "I like it too much myself. I feel tempted to touch you."
"Well. We can do some of that. Just tell me when you want to stop." I was prepared to call it off myself if the temptation got too strong. My body was keyed up enough that it would only take seconds in the bathroom with my hand and imagination if I let myself go.
"I hope.. I hope I can trust myself," she said. But it was only a half-minute before she reached for me.
That kiss was tentative, because she was nervous. But she calmed down and it became very intense very quickly. She raised her head and looked into my eyes. "I don't know, I don't know…" she whispered. But she went back to kissing me, and to responding to my tongue.
I explored the inside of her mouth and gradually she became more aggressive herself. I was surprised at the way her little pointed worm reached into me, to my teeth, the inside of my lips, almost my tonsils… And that with frequent stops while she gasped for breath.
"Nobody's ever done this for such a long time with me," she said.
"I like doing it. As long as I don't always stop there."
She looked at me a little nervously, but smiled.
My hand slid under the lower edge of her (well, my) pajama top. I moved my fingers back and forth, caressing her, as we alternated between kissing and holding and resting. Slowly I moved higher on her body, until she jumped when I reached the bottom of her left breast. She paused and looked at me again, then moved my palm to where it had been when we awoke — no, further, because now it was cupping the breast and I could feel the tight very hard nipple. It was very sensitive, too, as I found soon.
More touches, more kisses, then I opened the bottom-most of the three buttons on the pajama top. Marilynn drew in a breath, but did not stop me. Then the second button. Finally the third, and then I drew back the cloth and her soft little mounds were exposed to the light. She was on her back by now.
My fingers continued to explore her, my mouth went back to her sweet lips time and again, and then I lifted my head and lowered it on her body, on the left breast, and on the point of coral there. She gasped, and I felt her heart speed up as I drew the erect nipple up with my lips.
Now I sometimes kissed her lips and sometimes those tips, but always one hand or both touched her breasts, grazing or pulling or twisting her nipples.
Then I reached my hand beneath her and pulled towards me, pressing her breasts to my chest and our tongues fenced again. I massaged her shoulder-blades until she sighed once again. "Nobody's ever done this, so slowly," she told me.
"If a woman is worth doing anything with, she is worth doing it with at length."
She made the same half-laugh again.
Then I moved my hand from her back to the waistband of the pajama bottom. I slid my palm down, touching and caressing her butt. Then lower, and lower, until I had reached the dividing point and began to come up again. Her body jerked in my arms as I touched her entrance and found it wet.
"Oh, I don't know," she whispered. "But, yes, go on." And I did.
My fingertips spread her labia, moved the moisture around the outside, played around the opening. I moved Marilynn to her back again and untied the drawstring, then slid my hand down again. With this greater freedom, I could cup her from pubic hair to the far edge of her lower lips, and touch every point along the way. Only a few strokes on the clitoris brought her to a high pitch of excitement.
And with a few more her hips jerked up and her body shook in orgasm. "That's better than when I do it myself. I've never had a man do that to me," she whispered. "I know it's supposed to happen when you're… inside, but it never has."
Well, this explained why her relationships did not seem to last. Just bad luck on her part. She was one of the sort who take a long preparation. I returned to her core and began to build her up again.
This time it was my turn to jump when her hand dipped into my shorts to circle and hold my erection. Not that her fingernails dug in or anything; after the first contact her grip was exactly right, then she tightened her grip and gently tugged –which made me realize how far along I was.
"I've never felt this way with a man," she said. "It all seems so natural. I'm not sure… But do you have… have…"
"Yes," I said. And I took the foil-wrapped packet from a drawer by the bed.
"Oh, I want you, but I'm not sure if I should." And I decided to tip the balance by a finger on the scale. Or two did it, really; spreading her apart after I lowered the pajamas enough that her legs were free to also spread.
"Oh. Oh. Yes, I want you!" she said.
It took only a moment to drop my shorts and slip the condom on, another to take the pajamas from one foot, another to rest between her legs, and then I touched the opening of the tunnel of love.
I rubbed her natural lubrication on the head of my erection, not because it was needed since the condom was lubricated, but to prolong the anticipation and give us both an extra sensation. Marilynn trembled, but in a very different way from last night's shivers.
I put the head inside her and paused. She looked up at my eyes and made a low cry. When she arched up to kiss me, the action slid me in a little more and her mouth opened before it got to mine.
I took advantage of the opening and the reaction of her body to the double invasion made me go further into the other opening. Then I withdrew and came in again; this time I met resistance.
This, then, was the reason that Marilynn had spoken of all her boyfriends moving too fast and perhaps why her relationships did not seem to last long. She had never been given the time to really prepare her for going all the way with a man, never gotten to relax enough, but always forced with one degree of discomfort or another — so that she was always nervous and tight, but never enthusiastic.
"Please, please… Don't stop," she begged when she broke from the kiss. And I moved in gradually until I could feel the walls inside stretch and give and move aside as her mouth opened again and her eyes went wide. My next stroke went deep into her as her walls spread to accommodate a man in comfort for the first time in her life. She trembled again, and it felt very good to feel it around me.
I moved slowly, to allow her to accustom herself to the actions, to let her enjoy it more, and, frankly, because I was sure that if I sped up I would not last long. As it was I spent long periods with only the end of my erection within her, to cool down.
She made impatient noises after I had done this for a while, so I came down quickly and hard for one stroke, using my thumb on her clitoris so that she climaxed when I was deep inside her, the first vaginal climax of her life. The way her muscles tightened made me very glad that I had stayed out so long.
It was only another minute before I gave her another peak experience between clitoral stroking, internal stroking, and rubbing her now-stretched labia at the bottom. At about that time she discovered the idea of raising her legs to wrap around my back.
Now I settled in for a long ride. It was perhaps twenty minutes later that I felt her clamping down again on me as she had a purely vaginal orgasm. And another ten when one came again a little after I pumped hot jelly into the condom and she cried that she could feel it there. Marilynn held me so tightly in both her arms and legs that I fantasized that she would either break my bones or dislocate hers.
We rested, and even dozed a little, though it was past time to get up. At ten-thirty she went back to her apartment (in good shape, as the firemen said) and went to visit relatives for Christmas.
The next morning, a Saturday, she called and dropped in, and we made long delicious love again. Eventually we did split up, since there was a strong friendship but nothing more, really. She did find someone else, and married him. As did I, come to that. (No, not him.)