The New York City Marathon
When she turned onto Central Park South, Suzanne Neally was unprepared for what she saw. She was in the final mile of the 2019 New York City Marathon. The street itself was empty except for a woman perhaps 150 yards ahead. Crowds lined both sides of the road as they had for most of the course. But she did not realize that this long, three-block stretch was uphill. The Time-Warner Center was in the distance, defining Columbus Circle, where she would turn back into the Park. Her legs had been wobbly for miles. Will-power alone kept her going.
This was Suzanne’s first marathon. Her goal was to qualify for the 2020 Olympic Trials, or “OT,” in the marathon. She had no hope of actually making the team. But making the Trials would be huge. Her fastest half-marathon time was fast enough to allow her to enter the “elite women’s” field for New York. This meant she and a relatively small number of women started about half-an-hour before the elite men and the first wave of other runners. The idea was that they would not get mixed up on the course with men but would have their own race.
Several of Suzanne’s clubmates were in the group as were several strangers, all hoping to run faster than the 2 hours and 45 minutes OT qualifying time, and this group stayed together for the first sixteen miles or so as the truly elite women ran far ahead. Suzanne’s group started to fray as it entered Manhattan just past mile 16. Now Suzanne was a half-mile from the finish and her time was 2:39:24. She’d seen Kerry and the rest of her New York family several times during the race. After she passed, they hurried to the subway to see and cheer her at the next rendezvous point.
Pushed by the crowd, she made it through Central Park South and again into the Park itself. She was desperate, telling herself it would soon be over. That was all that kept her moving. Past the “26 Miles” sign so 385 yards to go. Then she saw the finish line with 200 yards to go. The clock read “2:42:18.” She had the whole road to herself for the final, slightly-uphill stretch and thousands cheering for her and her alone as she struggled through the finish, collapsing two steps after she crossed the line. “2:43:10.” Two volunteers rushed to wrap her in a high-tech blanket before helping her to her feet. The woman who finished ahead of her hugged her and she waited to do the same to the teammate who followed about twenty seconds after she did.
After being led to her bag and given some recovery drinks and food, she went to meet her family in the elite family-reunion area. She trained so hard for this. Suddenly she was nearly bowled over as Kerry ran up to her a bit harder than she realized. The others were there too.
After a small get together at her Mother’s apartment, Suzanne faded, and Kerry drove her home. Suzanne was too tired to shower, but Kerry made her. When dry, she collapsed onto the bed and was asleep within minutes. It was just after three, and Kerry gave her a kiss as she covered her with a blanket.
Kerry came in a little later. She gazed at her woman. Suzanne was never more gorgeous than when she lay exhausted, completely spent. So vulnerable. Kerry went for a cup of tea and some biscuits, and returned with a romance novel of the type that allowed her mind to drift away. She had a novel’s worth of complications with Suzanne but now that they were settled, she used romances to live vicariously in others’ worlds of missed opportunities and never-forgotten chances. Of separations and reunions.
She sat in the armchair in the room watching the up-and-down of Suzanne’s breathing. As dusk hit, she turned a small table-lamp on as she read her book and drank her tea and ate her biscuits. And regularly gazed at Suze. It was one of the moments when she told herself, “I am happy.” Her beautiful, exhausted Suzanne, having worked so hard over months and months so that she could do something largely arbitrary. An arbitrary time for a race of an arbitrary distance about which no one cared. Except, in the end, Suzanne and thus Kerry and the rest of her family.
It was dark when Suzanne roused herself. She was not expecting Kerry to be staring at her. “Hello, sleepyhead.”
After being told the time, she was able to get to the bathroom. Kerry heard the water starting to run in the tub. She ran to get a sports drink from the fridge and brought it to the bathroom. Suzanne was sitting on the toilet seat, trying to muster the energy to get her body in the tub, its water now steaming. Kerry handed her the drink, and adjusted the faucet’s temperature. She ran to the hall closet and brought back a box of Epsom salts, which she sprinkled in.
She had to help Suzanne get into the tub. The two women were quiet. Suzanne was the first to speak.
“I know I’ve been selfish with all the running I’ve been doing and couldn’t have done it without you.” Kerry told her to shut about it. “It was important to you so it was important to me.”
Suze told Kerry to shut up. She continued, “Now that I’ve done a marathon, I’ve done it. I will go to the Olympic Trials in Atlanta in February, but I am not training hard for them. I just wanted to see if I could make them. Just shorter stuff from now on.”
They were again quiet until Kerry helped Suzanne stand to let the shower rinse off the salted water. Suzanne made it out of the tub. They went to bed after a small dinner.
Suzanne was tired, but thanks to her nap not too tired. Kerry pushed up Suzanne’s shirt and knelt between Suzanne’s legs and lovingly ate her wife out. They did this often when Suzanne was spent from training. Now that the exhaustion was the result of the race itself, it felt even better. It was simple enough. Kerry simply let her tongue explore the labia, almost lackadaisically, neither of them in a hurry. Just her tongue at first, and careful to avoid the clit. She liked to do the alphabet and by about P or Q Suzanne’s hips began to rock slightly.
It was always like this, Suzanne trying to control her body. It was a challenge Kerry enjoyed, doing her best to take control—if anyone had control—over her lover’s body. Suzanne had so much going on in her body and her head after the morning’s race that it did not take long for her to surrender.
“In. In.” Kerry was not sure whether she wanted a finger or a tongue to enter. But since her arms were wrapped around Suzanne’s thighs for leverage, she hoped her tongue would be enough. It was. She made it into a tube and began stabbing into the vagina. Her nose ran across the lips, inhaling Suzanne’s odor, which triggered Kerry’s own faucet.
Her tongue got further and further inside Suzanne, but she pulled out. Far too soon, Suzanne thought. She pouted until Kerry moved over her. They both had shirts on but no panties. Much as she enjoyed what she was doing, she wanted to hold Suze, and she crawled up her wife’s chest and they kissed lightly. Suddenly, Kerry rolled on her back, pulling Suzanne with her. Kerry lifted her knees and put up her left leg between Suze’s thighs, and Suze lowered her pussy so she could rub against Kerry’s leg. Her quads were not as rock-solid as were Suze’s—how many women’s were?—but they were hard enough.
Kerry put her arms around Suze and pulled the two together, their lips pounding against each other. Suze wanted to taste herself, and her tongue circled Kerry to get as much juice as she could. Then their tongues were just playing as Suze brushed her pussy against Kerry’s leg and Kerry ground hers against Suze’s left leg, lifting her ass from the bed with increasing fervor. Neither could breathe properly but neither would release the other’s lips. Kerry’s grip on her wife’s ass tightened and what had begun as simple, lackadaisical cunnilingus had exploded into something complex and manic.
Their lips broke their seal and their eyes took it on, egging each other on until Suzanne cracked and broke their stare, her eyes closing as the emotions of the day coursed through her, shaking her body as she drove her thigh into Kerry’s pussy. Kerry, satisfied in having brought her love off, was herself lost in her own pleasure at the, well, thigh of the beautiful athlete to whom she was married.
After some clean-up in the bathroom, they were in bed early and quickly asleep. When Kerry awoke at some time during the night, she was tempted to take liberties with the body beside her but seeing as it was Monday thought better of it.
As they drove down, with Eric Nelson quiet in the back, his mother Kate Pugh and Kate’s lover Simon Douglas exchanged slight touches, which did not go unnoticed by Eric. He was pleased for her, having seen the deterioration of their family in Mill Valley, especially after Suzanne moved to New York. So he was happy to watch them, enjoying their being oblivious to their obviousness. Eric liked Simon, even if he was a hedge-funder living in Greenwich. His Mother warned him about going all Bernie Sanders on him—“You’re going to Yale because your capitalist father is paying for it so do not get on your soapbox” or words to that effect over the phone the day before—and her tone made it clear that she was serious.
Thanksgiving would be big, and it was decided to hold it at the house in Chappaqua of Eileen (Kerry’s Mom) and her husband Tom Doyle. Tom’s two kids, Andrea and James (and his long-time girlfriend Jennie with him), would be there as would Kerry and Suzanne, Mary (Suzanne’s Aunt) and Betty (Mary’s wife), and Kate and Eric. Oh, and Simon. Kate, who proved her worth as an organizer for Tom and Eileen’s wedding, was in charge and assigned tasks.
As for Andi, after a rough stretch, she returned to her old ways after her break-up with the man she thought was “the One” and who she thought was preparing to propose when he told her he was breaking up with her in the spring. All as described in Chapter 6 of our tale. Which meant that she was back to playing the field when she could find the time, given her workload as a doctor.
For the rest, it was status quo ante. Most had slipped comfortably into their lives with their new spouses. Kate was doing the same with Simon, and by the time dessert was on a side-table, pretty much everyone but Kate and Simon thought they knew what was going to happen between them.
As to them, she lived and worked on Manhattan’s Upper West Side and he lived and worked in Greenwich. That did not matter. The two were less than forty-five minutes apart. If there was not traffic. So Simon took to driving down to Kate’s apartment a few days a week. He had this large, to-die-for house sitting empty, but preferred to spend his evenings with Kate in her two-bedroom.
Which, truth be told, did not feel cramped. Kate was used to the big house in Mill Valley, but she did not need all that space and all the junk that filled it. So Kate and Simon fell into a routine. Their practice was to spend the week in the City and then Simone sent a car on Friday to bring Kate to Greenwich, where they spent the weekend.
The sex was good. They were compatible except insofar as they each were more concerned with the other’s pleasure than they were with their own. They worked out a sort of détente on that score and both benefited handsomely from it. They were two people in their fifties in love with each other who enjoyed nothing more than being with each other and more than anything being in bed with each other and even more being naked in bed with one another and being intimate with one another.
So by Thanksgiving, all of the married pairs at the table recognized the signs. Kate was bossing everyone around to ensure that things ran smoothly and much as Simon rolled his eyes at her orders, they saw how happy he was to comply.
Since Tom proposed to Eileen in the house about a year-and-a-half before, the others expected that Simon might do the same with Kate. But, alas, it was not to be. In fact, in the thrill of developing their relationship to where it was, while both Kate and Simon had given much thought to getting married, they had not spoken about it. Each viewed it as something that would occur when it was time to occur.
They were not there yet. After finishing at Tom and Eileen’s, Kate and Simon reversed the miles taken by Eileen years ago when she drove to Tom’s house in Chappaqua after she broke up with Simon.
They brought some desserts with them and when they were in the cavernous living room drinking cognac to settle their stomachs and chocolate cake to satisfy a sweet urge, sitting on the sofa next to one another, they talked. Simon had put on, as he usually did at night, Beethoven. His violin concerto this time, though not too loud.
Both changed from what they had worn to Eileen and Tom’s. He was in gray sweatpants and a long-sleeve polo shirt and she in pajama bottoms and a Yale t-shirt. Their legs were on the coffee table, between their cognac snifters. The cake—a single, large slice—was on Simon’s lap.
“You realize they expected us to tell them we were engaged don’t you?”
Simon took a bite of the cake.
“I know. Have you given it thought?”
“Wait,” Kate said, “isn’t that your job?”
“It may be my job to ask. But have you thought about it? It hasn’t been that long for you. Since your divorce. Since my dating. Since our…intimacy.”
Kate reached over with her fork and got a bit of the cake for herself.
“I don’t know. Part of me would say ‘yes.’ But I don’t know if all of me would. I think it is too early.”
“So do I. Believe me, though, I have thought about it.”
With that, the subject was closed. With the cake eaten and the cognac drunk, Simon took the plate and glasses into the kitchen and put them in the sink. He checked the downstairs to be sure everything was locked, and then he went up to their bedroom. There was no doubt that it was “their bedroom.” Kate had moved a good portion of her wardrobe there, though not much considering they spent most of their time in the City.
But there was zero evidence of Kate’s wardrobe when Simon walked in. She was lying in the middle of the bed. Naked. Her right fingers were gently running along her folds, below her trimmed pussy hair. She was on her side, looking at him as he came through the door. He ripped his stuff off and his dick was hard by the time he was finished. He opened the drawer of a side table, and quickly got a condom. She shook her head. He put it on the table.
“69.” It is all she said. She patted the center of the bed, and he took his position. On his back, his head toward the foot of the bed. She rolled and straddled him, her knees bent and her feet near the headboard. She lowered herself so he could smell her arousal as her right hand wrapped around his dick. He pulled her closer, his arms around her thighs, and she felt a charge run through her when the tip of his tongue came into contact with her vagina, peaking in slightly, tasting her wetness.
She concentrated on what she was feeling as she pumped her hand up and down Simon’s dick. It took a moment for him to begin running his tongue up and down her folds and giving a kiss to her clit as he passed it. She could not stifle a moan, but collected herself enough to run her tongue along the top of his dick and then to put its head into her mouth. Once she put it entirely in her mouth they found an equilibrium of giving and receiving.
After not many minutes, Kate pulled off of his dick.
“Stop.” She was breathing heavily. She rolled over. “Now put it on him.”
Simon took a moment to recover before standing and rolling the condom on. While he stood, she got on her back in the center, her legs spread. He knelt between them, looking down. She nodded and her hand reached for him. Simon lowered himself, allowing her to guide him into her and they both gasped when he crossed her threshold, their eyes locked.
Simon gradually picked up the pace, encouraged by Kate’s hands pulling his ass. He was on her chest, his hands gripping the top of the mattress for leverage, when their lips met but only briefly as they needed air. The expensive mattress was shaking finally as he ended with individual thrusts into her, plowing in and slowly pulling nearly out. He looked down at her, but her eyes were shut, trying to remove all stimulus except what she was feeling where they were joined.
She pulled him in tighter and would not relax her grip as she began to shake with the first wave of her orgasm. Her spasm was his signal to explode, and he held himself inside her as he came, several strings landing harmlessly in the condom.
Kate continued to shake until she had control enough of herself to release him, her hands flopping by her sides. He pulled out of her and rolled to his side, watching her placid face pull in air. She reached a hand over.
“I do love him.”
“And he loves you.”
With that Simon went to the bathroom to clean up and get ready for bed and she followed soon thereafter, and they both fell asleep in the sex-soaked bed.
Chicago: December 10
She was right. It was an easy thousand. Thirty, maybe forty minutes earlier she saw him sitting alone at the hotel bar. He had a half-empty (not half-full from how he looked) glass of scotch that he was shuffling slightly from side to side on the bar itself. Mid- to late-fifties in a very expensive suit. White shirt. Subtle but noticeable cuff links.
Lawyer or banker for sure. She could not dawdle. While the bartender would get his 10%, she could not afford to have the concierge walk in. That would be an extra 10%, which she did not like to pay unless he steered a guest to her.
It was easy enough. He had a wedding band on and he was sitting alone at a hotel bar on a Tuesday night a couple of weeks before Christmas.
After a few words of sympathy—generic words of sympathy since she did not know why he was sitting at the bar—he finished his drink. She whispered “One thousand” in his ear, and he did not blink. He nodded.
Within less than fifteen minutes of her first seeing him, they were in his room. It was a nice, upper-floor suite. There was not much light, but she had the chance to look at him. He was handsome. His hair was dark brown, cut short but not super short. Traces of gray gave him gravitas. His whole manner gave him gravitas.
After he handed her ten fresh one-hundred-dollar bills—he was “prepared” for this—she went to the bathroom to take care of some things. She brushed her teeth and reapplied her lipstick and ended by dabbing perfume behind her ears and in her pussy. She left her panties on so he could remove them later. If he chose.
When she returned, he was still in his suit. He sat in one of the armchairs that were angled out for a view over the Lake. He had gotten a scotch from the minibar. He asked if she would like something, but she declined. The room was nicely if conventionally furnished, and the only light came from a tall lamp near the desk by the window.
She was twenty-nine. About five-seven. She was long-limbed with light-brown hair, which she wore slightly loose so it just passed her shoulders. Very simple earrings and one piercing along her right eyebrow. She was relatively flat-chested, but wore a push-up bra to enhance what she did have. She was tall and thin with an oval face. She had a bachelor’s degree from Marquette and a master’s from the University of Chicago. Her day job was working for a bank. Tonight she wore a scarlet dress with black pumps, beneath a faux-mink jacket as a concession to the Chicago cold. She had an apartment in Lakeview.
By then she knew, from the conversation in the elevator, that he was a big-deal lawyer from San Francisco. He emphasized that he was not married “civilly.” She figured he was Catholic. Still wore the ring. With his glass on a side table, she bent down towards him. Her tongue traced his lower and then his upper lip. His hands remained on the arms of the chair but she heard a slight wanting from his lips.
She unbuttoned his jacket, and he leaned forward so she could remove it. She folded it gently and placed it on another armchair. She returned and bent down so her tongue could again caress his lips as she loosened and removed his tie and undid the top buttons of his expensive shirt. With the tie in her right hand, she bent down to kiss the flesh she exposed by her unbuttoning. And again a moan. He gave just the slightest hint of being excited.
After folding the tie delicately and placing it by the jacket, she undid his belt. He got up so she could unbutton and unzip his trousers, and she pulled them down. She took each of his shoes off so she could remove his trousers. He sat back down, and she again bent her face to his, this time using her tongue to induce him to open his lips slightly, and then her tongue entered his mouth and became engaged with his tongue. She could taste the scotch. Now his moans were clear and his hands were no longer on the arms of the chair. They reached round to her waist, pulling her towards him as she awkwardly tried to remain standing.
Her left hand dangled down to his briefs and found his flaccid penis. It was not a dick. It was not a cock. It was a flaccid penis. All the rest of him was aroused except for his penis.
He would need managing. She moved from his lips and stood in front of him. Her hands reached for his briefs, and he lifted his ass so she could remove him. The penis was more pitiful when she could see it, lying there next to a pair of hairy balls.
She saw it often enough. Sometimes she can get it to harden. She placed her lips on it, lifting it to her mouth with her hand. After several attempts, she licked it. Slowly running up its bottom, but it remained as it was.
“Fuck.” It was him. His hand pushed her head sharply to the side and he grabbed it, trying to get it going. After ten or so strokes, the futility was clear to them both. She stepped back and reached around to unzip her dress. Maybe that would stimulate him.
“Don’t bother. Just go.”
It was easy money, but she always felt a little sad about men like him. She did not feel bad about the money; he could afford it. A headcase. It was a sentiment she did not dwell on. Her livelihood—at least the livelihood that allowed her to pay for things she could not on a banker’s salary—would not allow it. They were all pitiful.
She got to the lobby and avoided the concierge as she walked the four blocks to another of the hotels she worked.
Back in his suite, William Nelson, Esq., remained in the armchair. It happened once before, but that was only when he was trying to jerk off. Surely a high-class whore could make it work. And she had not, beautiful as she was. Desirable as she was. And he desired her. His whole body did except for the one that mattered. He sat on the chair, his right hand idly stroking his useless dick—penis—as he used the left to hold his glass. It was no use. He finished the drink, and naked except for his shirt, he went to the bathroom and put on his pajamas and mindlessly watched porn on his tablet until he was tired enough to sleep.
Another Wedding: In California!
Annie Baxter was far more nervous than she was letting on. She sat on a JetBlue flight on its final approach into San Francisco International Airport. Beside her was her fiancé, Martin Foster, and in the two seats in front of her were her maid-of-honor, Suzanne Neally, and Suzanne’s wife, Kerry. They were all happy to be away from New York cold for a while.
Annie was nervous because in just under two days she would be married. It was January 23, 2020, and, in fact, each of the four was nervous. Suzanne perhaps even more than Annie. For she was returning to where she grew up and was in many respects a completely different person than when she left over three years before. For the next week, in addition to her wedding duties for Annie, she would try to re-introduce herself to parts of her family. And introduce Kerry to them.
More than anything, though, the source of Suzanne’s nerves was her father. He surely knew she would be here since Annie’s family lived not far from him in Mill Valley. Annie had wavered between getting married in New York or California. She decided it would be more inclusive for her too-rarely-seen family for the latter. Plus their honeymoon would be a drive up to Vancouver. They would fly back to New York from there. Plus plus it would be a break from what was expected to be, and turned out to be, a cold New York January. Not tropical. But not frigid.
Annie had cleared her idea with Suzanne. Suzanne, too, wavered. Given how much she missed her Aunt Lizzie and her family and the overture made by her Uncle Edward—who would come to New York a few months before to receive Suzanne’s forgiveness for how she was treated—she approved Annie’s wedding plans. Because of how late they were flying in, they missed some of the traditional pre-wedding activities, but Annie’s parents arranged for the wedding party to have a dinner at a nearby hotel on Friday night and there would be a hen party, Thursday, for Annie and her friends from high school and college.
Martin was nervous because he was about to get married. And meet a plethora of people close to Annie. He knew enough of Suzanne and her relationship with her own family to sympathize with her plight. His parents and family, as well as his best man, were already in San Francisco, having arrived from London a few days before.
Once on the ground, the four headed to Enterprise and got their dark-blue Ford SUV. They had sent much of the things for the wedding, including Annie’s and Suzanne’s gowns, earlier but still filled the back. Annie drove to the west of the City and let Kerry (in the back) and Martin (in the front) be awed as they crossed the Golden Gate Bridge. “Tourists” was Annie’s rebuke. Suzanne was kind and noted how “She,” referring to Annie, “nearly fainted when we drove across the George Washington Bridge when we got to New York,” earning her an “I did not” rebuke from the bride-to-be.
Suzanne tensed as they approached Mill Valley, though she did not realize it. Kerry did. It had been a while. Kerry tightened her grip and Suzanne placed her head on her wife’s shoulder. Things eased when they pulled into the driveway and Annie’s folks came out to greet them. Introductions to Kerry and Martin were made.
They trooped into the house. It was early afternoon, and a horde of women would be descending at around six and they would be heading into town for the party. It would give Annie’s father, Ted, a chance to get to know his future son-in-law. Ted and Pat had dinner with Martin’s family and his best man in the City the night before. By all reports it went well. As did the wedding and all the associated goings-on, with Mr. and Mrs. Foster-Baxter heading up to Canada dangling empty cans.
Thursday’s hen party was a particular success. Suzanne had forgotten how she missed her California friends. Most were married or living with someone. All were straight, but all were thrilled to meet Kerry. Most knew about the Nelson family implosion and the dominant sentiment was sadness. Kids with whom Suzanne had gone to Catholic grammar and high school could not get their heads around Suzanne’s expulsion. But once they got over that, it was like old times. They all moved on, some keeping in touch with others, some not, but for those hours when Annie was the center of attention it was like they were all teenagers again.
At the wedding, Suzanne enjoyed her maid-of-honor’s dances with the groom and the best man, and Martin snuck in one or two with Kerry. And a surprising number of friends of Suzanne danced with her and with Kerry and in the end they all got pretty drunk and were glad to get to their rooms at the inn. Kerry and Suzanne were blitzed, and both fell asleep promptly after their heads hit their pillows.
The couple was taking advantage of the trip to finally have their honeymoon. Their bosses gave them extra time off. So they were going to stay in San Francisco for a few days before spending the rest of the week in Sonoma County. First, though, Kerry was to meet more of Suzanne’s family. On Sunday, the group had brunch at the Mill Valley hotel that was the base for the wedding and where the couple was staying before heading into the City later in the afternoon for the official start of their honeymoon.
The group. Lizzie and Phil Windsor and Edward and Jennie Pugh. Lizzie and Edward were two of her mother’s four siblings. Lizzie and Phil were at Suzanne’s wedding, and she had seen Uncle Edward only a few months before when they reconciled. She had not seen or spoken to Aunt Jennie in over three years.
Jennie softened about Suzanne when Edward returned from that trip. She had been all fire-and-brimstone before he left but while Edward was in New York she spent time assessing her faith. It was much the same process as Kate and Edward engaged in. The ridiculousness of a seemingly arbitrary condemnation. It was not “arbitrary” in the abstract. It was foundational as part of the Catholic Church’s teachings. But the abstract was not her family. Suzanne was not an abstraction. She was a kind and loving woman, among the kindest Jennie knew. Jennie and Edward spoke each night while he was in New York. Before he left, he pointed out that the disownment was felt far more in California than in New York, that Suzanne had by Lizzie’s account a wonderful life and a wonderful family where she now lived. The rumors, he reported back, were true. Suzanne was happy.
Jennie softened. When she told her teenaged kids, a son and a daughter, what was going on with their cousin, they could not fathom why everyone turned their back on her. They were going through a Catholic upbringing but they would not be doctrinaire about it.
These forces chipped away at Jennie’s resolve and, in the end, she did what she accused her husband of doing. Taking the “easy” way. Being welcoming to one of her God’s children. Now, having committed to being with the family, she sat with the others in the Mill Valley hotel’s dining room.
Before they ordered, Jennie asked to speak to Suzanne alone. The two walked into the hotel’s garden. And Jennie did what Edward did. She apologized. Yet another Pugh surrendered.
Lizzie had extended the invitation to Kate’s other siblings and to Kate’s parents to meet with Suzanne. They declined. They would not move from their condemnation of Suzanne’s orientation. Suzanne hoped that her grandparents would come—her father’s parents were long dead—and that was her greatest disappointment.
Suzanne’s greatest hope was also unrealized. Her father. He made no effort to contact her since their encounter in New York’s Madison Square Park before her wedding to Kerry. He made no effort when she was in Mill Valley. His unhappiness was no secret. But he was doctrinaire and would not be swayed. Annie drove the two Neallys—Suzanne changed her name from Nelson when she got married—past Suzanne’s old home with no sign of life and it was the one sad cry she had on the trip.
Now the pair were being driven by Lizzie and Phil to their hotel in the City. After checking in, Suzanne insisted on dragging Kerry for a short tour, and Kerry was happy she did. Except for the hills. Such that they took a cable car back to the hotel.
Ah, the hotel. They had not stayed together in one since their two nights in White Plains after their wedding. Strangely, they were both nervous when they got in from dinner. They made love many, many times as spouses but being in a hotel with big windows overlooking a beautiful city was different. With the door closed and locked, they were seductively quiet. After putting their bags down, Kerry moved to her wife. Placing her arms around the taller woman’s waist she asked what she did to deserve to be so lucky and so happy.
“I ask myself that question every day” was the answer she got. She leaned up and pulled Suzanne’s lower lip with her lips and a moan was the answer she got to that. Followed by a whispered, “you are so beautiful.” Suzanne felt Kerry’s teeth pull at her lower lip, a sigh emerging from the mouth Kerry opened with her teeth.
Suzanne pulled back to break Kerry’s bite but only so that she could assault her love, smashing her lips against Kerry’s and sending her tongue into Kerry’s mouth, her hands draped around Kerry’s neck. The hands reached down and started to pull down the zipper she found and stepped back to allow Kerry to step out of her dress. Kerry stood, resplendent in white, satin lingerie which exposed more of her breasts than her normal bras did.
As always, Suzanne’s runner’s heart skipped a beat when she looked at Kerry’s nearly naked frame. Kerry rotated a finger in front of her face, and Suzanne turned. Her own zipper was soon down and her dress was soon piled on the rug and Kerry, perhaps cheating, perhaps not, unclasped Suzanne’s red, satin bra and when Suzanne turned her small, perfectly-shaped tits were on full display, and Kerry’s own perfect boobs were promptly exposed after Suzanne undid the clasp between the cups, she again overwhelmed by how beautiful Kerry was.
They closed the gap and resumed their kissing. But it could not last. Each woman’s dampness was on the verge of flooding and Kerry scooted around to pull the covers to the side of the bed before running into the bathroom with a “don’t go anywhere” and the two switched places until Suzanne returned. Both had put dabs of perfume on their necks and pussies and Suzanne found Kerry naked and lying on the bed with a crooked finger beckoning.
Suzanne’s panties were soon discarded and she lay next to her wife. They were both tired but not too tired. What began as mutual stroking quickly turned manic until Kerry jumped up and turned so that they could eat each other. Sometimes it was leisurely. This was not one of those times. Kerry rolled on top of Suzanne. Each grabbed the other’s ass to inhale and bite and suck and lick till Kerry started bucking and Suzanne held on as best she could while the orgasm flooded over her lover.
After a pause to recover, Kerry resumed her assault of Suzanne’s pussy. But it did not take long. Suzanne was soon shaking and cursing and coming until she begged Kerry to stop, which she did with a light kiss on Suzanne’s clit. Kerry got up to rotate and the two lay face-to-face and enjoyed the view of the somewhat splattered, make-up ruined faces of each other.
And they went to sleep.
In the morning, they could not resist taking advantage of the shower. Suzanne finished brushing her teeth when she returned to a grumpy Kerry still in bed. She bent down and kissed her on the back of the neck, garnishing a “let me sleep” for her efforts. She persisted till Kerry turned on her back, putting her hand in front of her mouth as Suzanne bent down. “Morning breath.” Without warning, Suzanne grabbed her lover’s hand and pulled her into the bathroom. She wore a robe. Kerry was in a t-shirt.
In the bathroom, Suzanne handed a brush and toothpaste to her wife then watched as she rid herself of morning breath. She placed her arms around Kerry when Kerry finished rinsing and resumed making love to the neck she long admired. As they looked at each other in the mirror, Suzanne had two questions: “Did you notice how big the shower is? Did you notice how many nozzles the shower has?”
Kerry was the one normally with the devious smile. It was now plastered on Suzanne’s face. She stepped back slightly and ran her fingers down Kerry’s ass crack and then wrapped it around so they could toy with her pussy. She felt Kerry’s knees buckle and tightened her left arm around the waist. All the while drizzling kisses on the neck.
She turned to put the water on, Kerry motionless with her hands tight on the sink. When the water was warm enough, the two resumed their eye-lock. Suzanne was fully in charge, pulling Kerry’s shirt over her raised arms and then cradling Kerry’s boobs and nibbles obscenely in the mirror. She stepped back and let her robe drop to the floor. She led Kerry into the shower and closed its door.
“Today is all about you. You’ve been wonderful for and to me here, and I owe you.”
With that she soaped her wife down, front and back, although she only slightly touched her pussy. When Kerry sought to do the same, Suzanne stopped her. “I’m in charge.” Insofar as a woman can seductively soap herself, that is what Suzanne did. Kerry leaned against the shower glass and with the water dripping on her she felt herself get damp. When she tried to caress herself with her fingers, Suzanne batted them away. “Bad girl.”
Kerry had never been so excited without someone touching her. Her tits. Her pussy. Her ass. Suzanne knew it and was excited in her torture.
When she was done, she turned the water off. They stepped out. Suzanne reached for a towel and dried Kerry’s front and then her back, spending perhaps too much time and enthusiasm jiggling her wife’s ass cheeks. She then dried herself off before leading the other to the still unmade bed.
Kerry got on the bed and lay face up. Suzanne went to a suitcase and pulled a strap-on from a compartment. Kerry could not resist saying, “I wonder whether they noticed that in the x-ray at JFK.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re going to notice it in a few minutes.”
“Believe me, love. I’m noticing it now. Just use it already.”