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From: Jay Bird <first_category@yahoo.com>
Subject: (ASSM) Marie's Gift by fcp (mf, cons, voy?, oral, 21k) <*>
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This one's also a little slow, and I left it somewhat fragmentary at
the end. A little of an O. Henry effect, I guess. I think it works.
It's faster than my first story, "An Outsider's Education," though. I
may expand it later.
All right, you know the drill:
Standard disclaimer: Yes, if you are under 18 years old, you should
not read this story. People are doing things you aren't supposed to
know about. Right. Anyhow, "Make love, not war," is usually a good
saying to go by, but I'd make an exception for James' war. And, we
should give soldiers some slack. You'll see what I mean; if you're
over 18, that is.
Nonstandard disclaimer: This story is copyright 1998 by FC Press; all
rights reserved. I grant permission to archive this on non-commercial
sites, such as Eli's ASSM newsgroup archive, which is now back, or the
successor to the Celestial Archive site on gilglin.com if one is ever
created. Of course, dejanews may archive it too. I grant permission
generally to distribute this singly and non-commercially, and to print
one copy for personal use, so long as it is distributed in its
entirety. On the other hand, I refuse permission for the story to be
reposted by anyone but the author. "who@why.not", that means you.
Frankly, I don't want it mixed with the ASS spam.
I stole the joke about Clancy from "The Glory and the Dream," by
William Manchester. I also just realized whom I named my main
characters after. Aargh! Zuzu's petals!
---
Marie's Gift (mf, voy?, cons, oral, 21k)
by FCP
<fcp2718@poboxes.com>
or <first_category@yahoo.com>
It was a lazy day; the harvest was in, the accounts all settled, and I
could finally take a few days to relax. Donna spent the day catching
up on the last Book-of-the-Month Club selection, while I spent the
afternoon looking at the new models of tractors. Donna and I would
have to figure out what we could afford, but that could wait a few
days. For now, we could just relax and prepare to wait out the
winter. As I took the last turn to our house, I mused that perhaps we
could provide Matthew with a sister. The effort would certainly be
enjoyable, now that we could both be awake for it. Sixteen hour days
aren't quite murder--I've seen murder--but exhaustion and romance do
not mix.
I went over the last rise before the house and hit the horn: "Awooga,
awooga!" I could see Donna, tall, sturdy, in the doorway; she was
holding Matthew back so she could get his jacket on. I stopped before
the garage (I built it last summer), and got out just as Matthew burst
from the door and leaped into my arms, crying "Daddy, daddy!"
"Matthew, you're getting to be a big boy! Come on and give me a
kiss."
"That's baby stuff."
"Where did you hear that?"
"He heard it on the radio today; some cowboy show, I think. Welcome
home, James. May I get a--Mmmph! You rascal."
"Always happy to oblige, darling. How was your day, dear?"
"Nothing much happened. I got the laundry done. The Farmers' College
show was interesting today; there's a new strain of wheat we might
want to try; more resilient, stands up better to cold
temperatures. Oh, and the new Sears Catalog came."
"Anything you want? Some dresses? Some pots and pans? Some
unmentionables?"
"James! Not in front of Matthew."
"Okay, okay. Later, then. What's for dinner? I'm starved."
"Meat loaf, carrots, and mushrooms. Don't eat too much; I baked a
C-A-K-E for later."
"Oh, I forgot. Bridge night?"
"Uh-huh. The Davidsons had to cancel; Billy has a fever. And the
Jordans' car broke down, so we'll only have Phil and Mary Andersen.
You remember; the Davidsons introduced them last month."
"Oh, right. A little flighty, weren't they?"
"Just newlyweds, dear. Put the car inside--looks like rain."
The Andersens came at exactly 7:30; Donna was putting Matt to
bed--"No, Matthew. The radio will still be here tomorrow."--when they
parked and walked to the door. Phil was a tall redhead, with a
handsome face marred by a broken nose, while Mary was a bubbly, short,
brunette. Mary reminded me of something in my past, but for the life
of me I didn't know why.
"Hi, folks! Donna will be down in a moment; she's tucking Matthew in.
Come inside."
"Do you have room in the garage? Looks like rain's coming," said
Phil. "Sure. My car's on the right side; I'll get the door." I let
her in while Phil returned to his car. Phil walked with a limp; I had
my suspicions about why. I ran to the garage door and opened it while
Phil pulled in and stepped out of the car.
"Nice. You do this yourself?"
"My pride and joy. Let's go in. Army?" "Yeah. Korea. The garden
spot of the world." "Well, I don't think France and Belgium were much
better. Not what I saw of them at least." We went in and greeted
Donna as she came down the steps.
"Well, he's asleep. Finally. Hello! Welcome again to our house.
Can I get you anything?" Phil didn't want anything, while Mary asked
for coffee.
We sat down at the bridge table, Donna and I versus Phil and Mary.
When I met the Andersens last month, I had thought of them as being
flighty and unserious. After the third deal, I realized my mistake.
They were ferocious. The Davidsons would be perfectly satisfied if
they were to make a contract; the Andersens fought for every
overtrick. The Jordans would only interfere in an auction if their
cards screamed at them to do so; the Andersens would bid with the
slightest excuse. It took Donna and I a little time to adjust, but
when we did, we really enjoyed the game, and our play improved. Also,
they didn't argue about any mistakes they made; they analyzed their
plays and learned from them, unlike some couples we knew.
We played a couple of rubbers, switched partners, played a couple
more, and switched again. About 9:30, we were all getting tired, and
so we decided to play one last round, the men against the women. In
the first hand, Phil ended up declarer in a 4 spade contract after a
very competitive auction [1C-(2H)-2S-(4H)-4S-All Pass]. Mary made the
opening lead, I laid out the dummy, and the situation seemed obvious;
he could easily make his contract, he might be able to establish an
eleventh trick in dummy, but he wouldn't have an entry to cash it.
"Why don't you just claim?" said Mary.
"I bet you that I will make the overtrick," replied Phil.
"What are you willing to bet?" said Mary.
Phil leaned over to her and whispered something in her ear; I couldn't
make it out. Mary replied, "Double it." Phil nodded. Donna seemed
confused; we never acted like that to each other. Phil proceeded to
draw trump; then he played to strip Donna of clubs and Mary of hearts,
while establishing an extra trick in dummy. I had no idea how he
would reach dummy to cash it. Then, at the tenth trick, he led a low
diamond, and said "Here, catch." Mary turned red; if she took the
trick, she would have to lead into Phil's King-Jack of clubs. If
Donna took the trick, she would be forced to let Phil back into dummy.
And, if neither one took the trick, that would be the eleventh trick
all by itself. Mary played low, Donna took the diamond, and Phil
claimed.
As Donna shuffled the cards for the next deal, Phil announced that he
needed to get something from his car, and left the table. A minute
later, Mary wondered out loud what was taking Phil so long, got up,
and followed him into the garage. Nothing happened for a couple of
minutes; Donna and I were really nonplussed. Then Donna got up,
walked to the closed garage door, and put her ear to it.
I had never seen such an expression on Donna's face; it combined
anger, confusion, and interest. What on earth could she be listening
to? I waved at her to try to get her to return to the table; finally,
she did. She almost hissed at me, "They're perverts." I replied,
"What?" "He's telling her to do perverted things to him," said Donna,
"he's saying things like 'lick my balls, yeah' and 'yeah, suck it
deep, honey.' That's disgusting! Only perverts and sluts would do
that. Right, James?"
I couldn't say a thing. Now I knew what Mary had reminded me of. I
only hoped I wouldn't dream of it tonight. Donna looked at me,
surprised that I wasn't agreeing with her; then, she turned away in
disgust. A few minutes later, the two of them emerged from the
garage, looking none the worse for what they had done. Donna had a
frozen smile on her face as the Andersens returned to the table; she
was maintaining it only to be polite. Mercifully, the rubber ended
with the next hand. Phil and Mary got up, thanked us for the evening,
and left. We went to close the garage, and Donna stared at the
receding taillights until they left our property.
"What's wrong with you?" asked Donna. I couldn't say a word. She
turned away from me, went inside, stomped up the stairs, and slammed
the bedroom door behind her. I pulled out a cigarette, and stayed
outside for the next half-hour, remembering my past and wondering how
I could explain it to her.
I went upstairs and saw Donna asleep on her side of the bed, wearing
her bulkiest nightgown, and facing away from the center of the bed.
Her hostility was obvious. I undressed myself, and laid myself on my
side of the bed. I didn't want to fall asleep, but I did.
---
Ier hostility was obvious. I undressed myself, and laid myself on my
side of the bed. I didn't want to fall asleep, but I did.
---
I dreamed, of course. I woke up in the middle of the night, shaken,
knowing only that I had had another nightmare about my war in Normandy
and Belgium. I could never remember many details of my dreams, and I
knew that I wouldn't want to. I did have a vague feeling that I had
dreamed about being trapped in a minefield, under enemy fire, and with
our own artillery firing too close to my squad. I pressed my knuckles
to my eyes to try to distract myself, and then I stumbled out of bed,
put on a robe, and went down to the kitchen for some Sanka.
A half-hour later, I heard Donna coming down the stairs. She
whispered, "James, where are you?" Quietly, so Matthew would remain
asleep, I said, "I'm in the kitchen. Come in and sit down. Have some
coffee." She walked into the room, and stopped in surprise.
I could understand her surprise. I was wearing her robe. I had my
coffee cup in one hand and an unopened bottle of French wine in the
other. She could see that I had been crying. She still had an angry
look on her face, but it was beginning to drift into concern.
Silently, she walked to the table and sat opposite me. "Donna, let me
tell you a story."
I continued, "I never talk about the war during the day; I guess
that's why I dream of it at night. I saw things that scarred me for
life, and I did things that no man should have to do, things that
haunt me to this day.
"My unit landed in Normandy on D+2, and we were immediately thrown
into battle. The surviving men who landed on D-Day itself were
exhausted; they needed us. My company fought for two months without
respite. Half of us were killed, and most of the rest were wounded.
If you count the replacements, we had over 100% casualties. In my
squad alone, out of the twelve originals, five were killed in battle,
one died a few weeks later in hospital, Billy Berker lost a leg to a
Bouncing Betty--that was a German land mine, and Sam Thales was
blinded by a sniper. Al Slovski was trapped on German barbed wire and
horribly wounded; I can still hear his screams as he was begging us to
kill him. I even took a shot at him myself.
"I left out Mark Schilling. Mark was the best of us; the war didn't
harden him the way it did me, and yet he never lost his courage and
his brains. He was always prepared, always calm. He saved each of
our lives at least twice. We'd be pinned down, taking sniper fire,
and he could always figure out where it came from and how we could
escape from it. Well, one day he wouldn't come out of his foxhole; he
laid there face-down, curled up in a ball. Shell-shock. We had him
evacuated, and he never returned to the unit. I think he's out of
hospital now, but he always ends up back in hospital after he drinks
himself sick. No one blamed him at all, and if Patton had slapped
him, I would have tracked Patton down and broken his nose.
"We were fought out after two months. I think Captain Bloom finally
persuaded Division HQ that we would collapse if the Germans got
anywhere near us. They sent us to a rest camp in the rear, but we
never arrived there; the roads were clogged with tanks and trucks
heading to the front. Finally, the captain pulled us off the road and
had us stop in a small village, Red Horse. Cheval Rouge, actually. I
think Bloom negotiated with the mayor, and the mayor had some of the
families left take us in.
"They put me in a house with two women, mother and daughter. I
learned later that the father had been sent to Germany for forced
labor; I don't know what Madame Teil and her daughter Marie did to
survive. Remember, I only knew enough French to say 'Hello,'
'Goodbye,' and 'Duck!'
"They had an old cast-iron tub, and they heated some water for a bath.
I understood; after two months I probably smelled worse than a
polecat. Where they got the fuel I never knew. They filled the tub
and left me to wash up. War makes you tired, Donna; the heat got to
me, and I started to doze off. I must have heard the door open and
close, because I woke up to see Marie standing in front of me,
carrying a laundry basket with my uniform in it.
"I ducked into the water and tried to cover myself with my hands. She
just smiled, turned, and walked out. After she was gone, I blocked
the door with some furniture, shaved, and dried myself with the towels
she had left me. She had also left a pink robe; I guess it was hers.
The only thing I could do was to wear it; do you remember when we saw
Bringing Up Baby at the old Tivoli?. Quite embarrassed, I walked out.
Marie was scrubbing my clothes, while her mother was preparing dinner.
Neither of them batted an eye.
"Dinner was great. Actually, anything that didn't remind me of
K-Rations would have been great. They brought out a bottle of wine,
and we pantomined our way through the meal. Afterwards, they showed
me the family pictures. I managed to learn the French words for
father, mother, and other family members. I took out the picture you
had sent me and showed it to them; Mrs. Teil pantomined a question
about whether you were my wife, and I managed to explain that we were
engaged and would marry after the war ended. After a while, I sat
down. The war, the wine, and the meal had made me sleepy, and
Mrs. Teil led me to a small room with a feather bed. When she left, I
took off the robe, pulled the covers over me, and slept.
"I don't know when it happened, but sometime during the night, I felt
a draft of air. I awakened, and I saw Marie standing at the foot of
the bed; she had pulled the cover to the side. She saw I had
awakened, and she signaled me to be quiet. She wore nothing but the
same enigmatic smile I had seen earlier. She leaned over the bed,
between my legs, and then she lowered herself to my crotch. I
couldn't move; I felt hypnotized. She kissed my cock on its head, and
started to lick all around it. All I did was to stare."
"And you didn't think you were betraying me? I was faithful to you,"
said Donna. I was afraid that was going to be her reaction, but I
went on. One thing I will never do is to lie to Donna; one lie begets
another, and soon your entire life is a lie. It's easier to tell the
truth.
"Donna, I wasn't thinking of you at all. I could have thought to
myself that we weren't married yet, and so it was OK, but I just
didn't think of you at all. I felt alive; for a moment, there was no
war, no pain, no killing. Marie made me feel alive. Remember, I
still had many battles ahead of me; I didn't know whether I'd ever see
you again.
"You know, men make crude jokes about what Marie was doing: 'Hey, did
you hear what happened to Clancy? He got sucked under a bridge by a
WAVE!' But, Marie wasn't crude, not at all. She was giving me a
gift, and I accepted it in the spirit it was given. I reached down
and stroked her face, and she looked at me and smiled. Donna, I even
cried a few tears; in the field, I didn't cry about Billy, or Sam, or
Al, or the others who died, but I cried there, in that feather bed,
with a sweet girl making gentle love to me.
"She reached toward my face and stroked it, patting away the tears.
Then, she moved up the bed and cradled me to her bosom. I lost
control for a while, and she just held me, rocking me. It took me a
while, but I did recover, I did stop crying. I looked up at her face;
she was luminous, beautiful. There was nothing enigmatic about the
smile she was wearing; it was the smile you wear after you survive a
tragedy, a smile of shared joy and relief. Suddenly, she pushed me
back onto the bed, and slipped back to her earlier position; she
wasn't as gentle this time. She licked me until I was hard again, and
then she swallowed me deeply. She was determined to set me off, and
it wasn't long before she did.
"I reached for her and pulled her up to me, and thanked her with
kisses and licks; I didn't need to know any French for that. She must
have noticed when my cock recovered, because suddenly she lifted
herself up, placed her pussy over me, and plunged it down onto my
cock. She took total control, lifting herself up, lowering herself
down, and changing speeds when she wanted. She brought my hands up to
her nipples, and had me pinch and stroke them.
"On and on she went; I don't know whether she really saw me at all, or
if she saw a ghost from her past. Maybe she had a fiance lost in the
war, I don't know. Anyhow, I was glad I could return part of her gift
to her. Too soon, she lost control, lost her rhythm. Her breath came
out in gasps, her skin flushed, and she came. I followed immediately.
"She rolled off me and fell to the bed; I held her and kissed her, and
she returned my kisses one for one. We both sagged a little; she
pantomined her exhaustion and got up. I understood, of course; I
didn't think M. Teil would be too happy to see us sleeping in the
same bed. I blew her a kiss, and she got up and walked out. I fell
asleep immediately.
"I woke up the next morning, and my clothes were folded neatly on the
dresser. I got up and dressed, and joined them for breakfast. Both
of them had the same odd smile on their faces; I guess that if Madame
Teil had known what Marie and I did, she wasn't unhappy about it.
I'll never know, however; the captain sent out messengers to round us
all up, and soon I left that house, never to return. I don't know
what happened to them, but I wish them well, and I hope they wish me
well.
"Donna, I am not going to criticize Mary and Phil. If I considered
Mary to be a slut, then I'd be condemning Marie too, and I will never
do that. You know, I dream about Marie sometimes, but only after I
have a nightmare about the war. I always associate the two. Mary
reminded me of Marie quite forcefully; that's why I'm down here now.
I'm sorry if I've disturbed you, but I won't apologize for what I feel
or what I did. I love you, Donna, and I always have. What happened
in France doesn't change that at all."
Donna said nothing for a few moments; she just sipped her coffee and
stared into space. Then, she put her cup down, and said, "James, go
up to bed. Now, I have some things to think about. Get some sleep.
I don't mind if you dream."
I was surprised to hear her say that, but I got up and started to walk
upstairs. When I passed her chair, she reached for my hand and pulled
me down toward her. She gave me a peck on the cheek, and then she let
go. I walked upstairs, hung up her robe, and fell asleep immediately.
The next morning, Donna was pleasant toward me. She didn't mention
anything that we spoke about; I had no idea what she was thinking. I
spent the morning playing with Matthew and working on the garage,
while Donna busied herself with our budget. We are a team, after all.
Then, after we had a lunch of leftovers, she asked me if I could watch
Matthew for the rest of the afternoon while she went to buy some
fabric from the Woolworth's in town. I told her that I'd be happy to
stay, and she took the car and drove off.
She called a couple of hours later to say that she would be a little
late, that she had spent some time in the local library, and she
wouldn't make it home until 5:30. I told her I'd make dinner, and I
prepared a chicken casserole and some onion soup. I guess I was still
thinking about France. She came home with a few square yards of
fabric, a couple of library books, and some notes she had taken at the
library. She still gave no sign of what she had decided about the
previous night, and I was getting quite scared. I managed to hide my
fears for Matthew's sake, and we had dinner, listened to the radio,
the two of us read Matthew a story, and we tucked him into bed.
After Matt fell asleep, I tried to draw Donna out into a conversation
about the previous night, but she wouldn't be drawn. She would only
talk about Matthew, farm finances, and farm equipment. She's a good
self-trained accountant; I trusted her implicitly, and we managed to
make some important decisions about the next year. I started to conk
out around 10:15, and went up to bed. What was she thinking? I
couldn't tell at all. After a while, I put the matter aside and went
to sleep.
I dreamed about Marie again, but this time without the attendant war
nightmare. Not only that, but I remembered the dream as clearly as I
remember my wedding day. Strange. As my dream reached the moment
where she started to lick and suck me, I suddenly woke up. There was
Donna, nude, wide-eyed, licking and sucking me.
The End
Marie's Gift
by fcp
<fcp2718@poboxes.com>
<first_category@yahoo.com>
That's an obscure math joke; grin and Baire it.
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