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Molly & Marilyn & Me Ch. 01

By: coaster2



My thanks, as always, to ErikThread, for this excellent work and helpful suggestions. Any errors or omissions are mine alone.

*

More often than not, things don't work out the way you plan them. The unexpected pops up to surprise you. Such was the case with Molly and Marilyn and me.

The Pickled Pumpkin has a very nice new location. It re-opened a few months ago, nestled among the fir trees at the base of a mountain. It used to be housed in a dark, sprawling building across the street, but the owner wisely decided to take advantage of an abandoned site across the way and built a modern stone and cedar-faced timber frame building. His business has more than doubled since.

The first-time visitor can't help admiring the high cedar-deck ceilings, the long, polished mahogany bar, and the abundant mahogany woodwork. It's a much bigger establishment than its predecessor. Seating for at least a hundred, I would guess. 

I have my favorite spot, a little two-place table in the solarium at one end where I can watch the patrons and have a decent look at several of the TV screens. The chairs are comfortable, it's not too noisy, and the serving girls are attractive. What more could I want? 

It's my only true vice these days. My ex-girlfriend, Dana, preferred the club scene while I abhorred it. We finally decided we didn't have enough in common to keep our relationship alive and that was the end of that.

My name is Tory Payne. I'm a thirty-three year old bachelor with an eye for the ladies when the opportunity arises. Since I've been on my own again, I've fallen into the habit of stopping of at my local during the week for a pint before heading home to make my evening meal. I don't enjoy being alone, but I'm used to it and I'm very fussy about who I invite into my life.

My routine on Saturday is to quickly dispense with the necessary house-cleaning and laundry, and then wash the car. That done, I'm off to the pub for a leisurely lunch. A couple of pints, read the paper, and watch a bit of football or baseball. I've been doing this for over ten years off and on. Even when Dana was around, we would have a Saturday lunch and a drink before heading off to do our usual weekend shopping.

When you hang out at the same place for any length of time, you get to know the regulars, the semi-regulars and of course, the staff. I knew all the serving girls by name and they knew me. I would say hello to some of the older patrons as a courtesy, just to acknowledge them. They would sit together and tell the same stories over and over again.

I would usually nod or tip my cap to people that I saw often but didn't know. Almost always I would get a polite reply and a smile. Pubs are usually friendly places, especially at mid-day.

I first noticed Molly and Marilyn one Saturday early in the fall, a couple of months after Dana and I went our separate ways. The mid-day weekend patrons are quite different from the weekday regulars. Two different crowds altogether. Since I became a patron of both times, I got to know both groups.

The two young women arrived just after noon and found a table near my little nest. I couldn't help noticing them. These were two very beautiful young women. One, a blonde with long, wavy tresses falling halfway down her back, and the other, a raven-haired beauty with eyes that suggested Asian blood somewhere in her genetic makeup. 

They were wearing very carefully applied makeup and were dressed quite nicely. I suspected they might be cosmetic sales girls from one of the local stores. I also noticed that both were easily sixty to seventy pounds overweight. The extra weight was distributed equally from head to toe, and somehow didn't detract from their fundamental good looks. I found them quite appealing, which surprised me. I never thought obesity could be attractive.

From that Saturday they became regulars for lunch and usually sat in the same area as I did. I began to look forward to seeing them and found I was disappointed if they were late or, as on a couple of occasions, didn't show up at all. It was part of my weekend entertainment.

I began wondering what they would look like if they were to shed that extra weight. It became a game at first. They would arrive and I would immediately start re-shaping them into another image. In case you're wondering, I'm a designer and it's part of my makeup to imagine how things might look if changes were made.

After a couple of months of acknowledging each other, I caught a break and finally got a chance to meet them properly. The place was full that Saturday noon. I was unable to get my usual table as two elderly women arrived earlier and took it. 

I was sitting at a table for four when the girls appeared and searched for an open spot. There were none and seeing this, I stood and waved to them. They looked at each other, said something, then moved toward me.

"Hi girls," I smiled. "Looks like a full house. If you'd like, we can share this table. My regular was taken too."

I guess they decided I wasn't dangerous as I was known to them in a manner of speaking.

"Thanks, we only have an hour. I was hoping we wouldn't have to go looking somewhere else," the blonde said.

"I guess we've seen each other on Saturday fairly often. My name's Tory Payne."

"I'm Molly Ransom and this is Marilyn Lee," the blonde said. She seemed to be the spokesperson for the pair.

"Where do you work?" I asked after they seated themselves.

"At Elegant Evenings," Molly quickly replied.

I must have had a curious look because she smiled and explained.

"It's a women's lingerie store in the mall. I don't think you'd be in there much unless it's a gift for your wife or girlfriend."

"Oh ... you're right. I wouldn't be in there much. No wife, and currently no girlfriend," I explained.

"Oh goody, an unattached male," she enthused, clapping her hands together. "We're fresh out at the moment."

I laughed, but filed the information away for future reference. I turned to Marilyn, who was yet to say a word.

"You look very professional and very attractive." I made sure I addressed both of them when I complimented them.

"Thank you," Marilyn said softly. She seemed a bit shy, but perhaps it was because Molly was so outgoing. 

"And what do you do?" Molly asked.

"I'm a designer. I design houses and apartments; both new construction and renovations."

"That sounds interesting," Marilyn said, surprising me with a comment.

"It is. It's a job I sort of created for myself when I was working at a lumber yard, and over the years it's grown into a nice little business."

"Do you work at home?" Marilyn asked. She was genuinely interested, I felt.

"No, not normally. I have an office at the yard and they pretty much let me do my own thing. I've brought them a lot of business in the past few years, so they're pretty accommodating."

"Lucky you," Molly jumped in. 

"So, do you girls enjoy your jobs?" I asked, trying to learn more about them.

"It's not bad," Molly answered. "The pay isn't great, but we're a specialty store for plus-size women, so we don't feel like we're misfits." 

I wondered if she understood just what she was revealing to me and I turned to Marilyn. She blushed and her eyes were focused on her hands on the table.

Happily, at that moment, our server arrived and we ordered our drinks and listened to the specials. The girls both ordered salads and diet colas while I chose my usual dark ale with the soup-and-sandwich special.

"I'll tell you, girls, I much prefer having lunch with you than on my own."

"I know what you mean. We see each other all day at work and we run out of things to talk about," Molly replied.

"Well, since all three of us are regulars at Saturday noon, why don't we make this a habit for a while?" I suggested.

Molly jumped at it before Marilyn could say anything. 

"Great. It will be our own private little club," she laughed. 

I looked at Marilyn for confirmation and was encouraged with a smile from her. 

We finished our lunch and lingered over our drinks until it was time for the girls to return to work. I stood as they prepared to leave and told them I'd be looking forward to next Saturday. 

I ordered another pint and sat back to think about the two women. Molly was the outgoing one and full of life from what I could tell at this early stage. Marilyn was quiet, perhaps shy, but she was the one I was drawn to. I couldn't be sure why, but I thought it might be those eyes. Mysterious, dark, beautifully highlighted with her makeup, they were captivating. A promise of smoldering sensuality? Perhaps.

Both women displayed substantial breasts as their dress made sure that an ample amount of cleavage was visible. I tried to imagine what one of these women would be like to have in my bed. I was thinking lascivious thoughts and smiling as I did so.

I enjoy my job and I am rewarded quite well since I produce a large amount of new business for my employer. I have thought a number of times about going out on my own, but the security and constancy of my lifestyle have outweighed the lure of greater income. I have everything I need and no burden to carry home with me each night. 

If I lack anything, it is companionship, and I suppose, love. I don't think I've ever been in love. At least, nothing that I thought was that special feeling I should expect. I wondered what it would be like, and if I would know when it happened. I assumed, from all I read and heard, that I would.

So here I was, the following Saturday, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the two women. I was surprised at my sense of relief when I saw them drive up in their car and walk into the pub. They smiled as they saw me standing and made their way to my new table. 

"Hi ladies. How's life at Elegant Evenings?"

"Good. How are you?" Molly enthused.

"Fine," I smiled as I looked at Marilyn and saw her careful smile. 

We sat and within a few seconds Tish, our server, approached the table.

"Hey guys, good to see you hooked up," she said brightly.

I was about to say something based on my understanding of the phrase "hooked up," but decided not to make anything of the comment. I did notice Marilyn blush at the remark.

We ordered our drinks and lunch, settling down to wait for service. We chatted about our week until Molly completely changed the subject.

"Tory, how would we find out how much it would cost to have a personal trainer?" 

The question caught me off-guard and I stumbled for a minute before answering.

"I don't know, but I might know someone who does. What do you need?" I was curious and wanted to know where this was going.

"Marilyn and I want to lose weight and get fit. We've been like this since we were teenagers and we need to do something about it," Molly said seriously.

"I can understand that. But I suggest it's going to include a pretty comprehensive lifestyle change as well for it to make a difference." 

"I think you're right, but at our age, if we don't do something about it soon, we'll never do it." Molly had given this some thought and I saw Marilyn nodding in agreement. 

I leaned back in my chair, the glimmer of an idea flickering in the back of my mind. No need to say anything now, but giving it a bit of thought, I might be able to help these women.

"I have an idea that might give us some direction for a plan that is workable and affordable. Can you give me until next Saturday to do some homework?"

"Sure," Molly said, looking at Marilyn for support. 

"Yes, I think it's important that we do this now," Marilyn said. To that point, I think it was the most I every heard her say. She had a lovely voice and I sensed a quiet determination that it was do or die, now or never. 

I wasn't so sure about Molly. She was harder to read. She was enthusiastic today, but would it last when things got difficult? I was becoming excited that I might be able to help them get their life and their bodies in better shape. I would be making a worthwhile effort with possibly some personal benefits along the way.

I should explain. I haven't always been five-ten, a hundred and seventy pounds. Once I weighed well over two hundred and decided to do something about it. My twenty-fifth birthday present to myself was to get in shape. I succeeded because I did it the right way, a bit at a time. It took eight months, but I not only achieved my goal, I was able to maintain my new shape and lifestyle because it was just that, a lifestyle.

Better yet, my day-to-day wasn't one of a monk. I could enjoy a beer each afternoon and at Saturday lunch without undoing all my other efforts at staying trim and fit.

I have another admission to make. I'm a bit selfish. I often look at things for what it would bring to me. When I first thought of these two women, I wondered if I could work my way into their lives and enjoy the benefits of a closer friendship. 

During the week I developed a plan for them, I thought more about them and what I could do for them. It was a different response than I expected. Maybe I could develop their friendship without taking advantage of them. Like I said, I tend to be selfish, so my thoughts surprised me.

That week I documented my own success story and modified it to suit Molly and Marilyn. They would not be able to adopt quite as rigorous an exercise program as I did. However, when I lost my weight I didn't have a "personal trainer," and that was the role I was prepared to take on with them. It would give me something to look forward to and keep me in contact with them regularly. I decided not to tell them about my own weight loss.

I wrote out a plan to give to them on Saturday, a schedule for exercise and diet that I knew would work without putting them under too much physical stress. I would be the "watchdog" and make sure they were sticking to the schedule. Beyond that, it would be up to them.

One of my most important roles was to be their cheerleader. They would need someone to remind them of the reward for their efforts. For one final piece of information, I contacted a fitness club and asked about the services of a personal trainer. It was quite costly I learned. Several hundred dollars at least, and that was just for the physical component. Out of their budget range I was sure. My role would be a good deal cheaper. I was willing to work for free.

We met as usual at Saturday noon and after our usual greeting, I passed them my program.

"What's this?" Molly asked.

"It's a personal program for each of you. It's designed to give you a day-to-day plan to achieve your goal."

"How did you get this? How much did it cost?" Molly continued.

"It's a modified program from one I developed for someone else some years ago. As for the personal trainer, I think the costs would be well beyond your means. So, with some research and help from various professionals, I have developed a plan that I'm confident will be what you need."

Molly looked at me suspiciously. "And just how much will this cost?"

"Nothing," I said quickly.

"Nothing? How come?"

"Call it a gesture of good will," I grinned.

"Yeah ... come on ... what's the catch?" Molly scoffed.

"No catch. I'm volunteering to help you and Marilyn meet your goal. Simple as that."

"Why ... what's in it for you?" Molly was exhibiting a deep suspicion of my motives.

I shrugged. "To tell the truth, not much. I guess it's a matter of getting some satisfaction from helping you help yourselves. I could have done what I originally planned and become a "Big Brother," but this seemed like a worthwhile cause, so I chose it instead."

That was only a little lie. I truly was thinking about Big Brothers, but I hadn't made up my mind.

Molly seemed unconvinced, but Marilyn was less suspicious and I saw a nod of acceptance, faint though it was.

"Look girls, if you're uncomfortable with my proposal, then I'll give you the name of the outfit that provides personal trainers locally and you can forget the whole thing. I can only tell you that what you see on that piece of paper will work for you. But ... suit yourself." I didn't want to argue any more. It was up to them.

"Are you sure this will work?" Marilyn asked seriously.

"Yes, I am." 

"OK, then. I'll try it," she said softly.

Molly looked at her with a frown and then back to me. At that point, our lunch arrived and the three of us ate quietly. As far as I was concerned, the ball was in their court.

Nothing more was said about the program until the girls stood up to return to work. It was Molly who asked the important question.

"How do we start?"

"Meet me on the upper track level at the recreation center at seven on Monday evening. Don't eat a big meal or you'll be uncomfortable. We'll start with some simple things to get you into the right pattern. Can I assume you're willing to give it a try?" My question was actually directed at Molly.

"Yeah ... I'll give it a try. The price is right," she grinned. Marilyn nodded and this time, the smile was noticeable.

-0-

And so it began. I set out a two-stage program for the girls. One part diet and one part exercise. I wasn't worried about the diet. It was lifted from an existing, proven program and it was flexible enough that it could exclude foods that didn't agree with the participant. The main objective was managing the intake of carbohydrates, salt, and fat.

The exercise was a greater concern to me. I first needed to find out just how much exercise they got on a daily basis. Then I needed to find a starting level that wouldn't injure or frustrate them, but still produce some results. Rebuilding their fitness had to be carefully managed and progress according to their capabilities. Furthermore, it was unlikely that both of them would progress at the same rate.

Step one was almost a "deal breaker." I wanted to take their measurements. Molly was quite uptight about this. She was embarrassed and I think Marilyn was as well, but was less vocal about it. Finally we compromised. I had them take each other's measurements after having them solemnly swear they would record them accurately. I showed them what I wanted by demonstrating on my own body.

Everything was recorded on a spread sheet with a date heading for each week. The girls would measure themselves each week to see what progress they made. I cautioned them not to expect miracles. To keep them committed to the plan, they needed to believe they were making progress. My job was to get them over the rough spots and the flat spots when they either weren't motivated or couldn't see any progress. Both of those circumstances were likely at some point.

That first session was revealing. Neither of the girls had done anything in the form of exercise for months, if not years. To begin with, I walked with them around the track at a modest pace. Every four laps we would stop and I would give them a minute's rest before resuming the pace. They were fine for the first twenty minutes and then I began to see some fatigue show in both. Molly didn't last as long as Marilyn, but at the half hour mark, I called a halt to the walking.

We sat in the chairs by the snack bar and I went over the diet with them. It wasn't a starvation regimen, but it was going to require some self-control. I couldn't be with them all the time, so they were going to have to regulate themselves. I suggested they form a "buddy system" so that each of them monitored the other. Since they worked together, that would minimize the "cheating." In the end, though, it would be their self-control that would spell success or failure.

At the end of the first week, the girls took their measurements and recorded them. There was very little change, of course. I warned them not too expect much in the beginning. The good news was that they weren't terribly disappointed or in any pain as we moved into the second week of the plan.


Molly & Marilyn & Me Ch. 01



I was recording their laps around the track and by the end of the third week, they were walking for forty-five minutes with only four two-minute breaks at about ten minute intervals. On top of that, they were walking more quickly and covering more laps. This was distinct progress and I made sure they were aware of it. They needed some positive reinforcement at that point. 

At the end of the first month, the girls could see definite signs of progress. They both lost between six and eight pounds, with Molly losing the greater amount. Their measurements were still a tightly guarded secret, but I was pretty sure they were shrinking as well. It was at that point that I changed the routine.

We were getting together every day for that first month. I wanted to cement the routine and the best way to do that was for them to expect to see me each day. Now, a month later, I could make some changes that I had planned.

"Girls, on Saturday when we meet at the Pumpkin, I'm going to have a new schedule for you," I said Thursday evening.

"What are you going to change?" Molly asked immediately.

"I'm going to take some things away and I'm going to add some things," I grinned. "Until Saturday, you'll just have to wait and see."

"You're not going to take more food away, are you?" Molly moaned.

"Nope, but just be patient and you'll see. I don't want you getting bored and losing interest."

"I can't see me getting bored," Marilyn said quietly. "I can see and feel the difference your plan is making. It's working. I don't want to change just for the sake of change."

"Yeah ... she's right," Molly chimed in. "We're doing great. Let's not mess with it."

"Relax, ladies. This will be phase two. Now that you're going in the right direction, I want to move to the next stage," I explained patiently. 

"How many phases are there?" Molly asked.

"Eight," I answered quickly. "But don't get uptight about it. They are all stepping stones and you don't move from one the next until you are ready to."

That seemed to mollify them and I breathed a sigh of relief. 

When Saturday arrived, the girls were antsy and bugging me to give them the phase two plan. I allowed myself a bit of fun as I teased them before handing over their new sheets. There was silence at the table as they read. I could see both of them reacting to what they read. A raised eyebrow here, an O-formed mouth there.

At last, Molly put down the sheet and stared at me.

"How come we're cutting back to five days a week?" She was curious, not upset.

"All part of the plan. It's been pretty intense so far. It's time to get you moving toward a sustainable routine. You need a couple of days off each week, but not together. So, you can choose which two," I explained.

"What do you suggest?" Marilyn asked.

"Well, when I got to this stage, I took alternate Wednesdays and Thursdays off along with Sunday. That worked for me, but ... it's your call."

"You mean you've been on this program too?" Molly asked, surprised.

"Yeah. A few years ago," I said reluctantly, now realizing my mistake.

"You never told us that," Marilyn said, also in surprise.

"Would it have made a difference?" I asked.

That brought about a brief silence.

"I'm not sure. Maybe. It was about us trusting you in the beginning," Marilyn said thoughtfully.

Molly nodded, looking at me suspiciously. 

"So, you're Professor Higgins and we're your Eliza's, eh," she said with what I took to be a sneer. 

I shrugged. "Are you disappointed in the results?" I asked evenly.

They looked at each other.

"No ... I guess not," Marilyn finally admitted.

"Then ... you're disappointed in me?" I probed.

"I asked you right in the beginning," Molly snapped. "What's in this for you?"

"And I told you right in the beginning ... nothing. Nothing but the satisfaction of helping you achieve your goal," I said directly.

"And we're supposed to believe that?" the blonde continued.

"I admit, I was attracted to you both when I first saw you. But ... I was imagining what you would look like without all the extra weight. Besides, I haven't so much as touched either of you. I don't think I've got anything to apologize for." 

Molly wasn't buying my story. I sat there for a minute, watching them both carefully. Molly was annoyed, but Marilyn just looked unhappy. I guess I sagged as I let out my breath.

"OK, girls," I said, reaching for the sheets. "Maybe this was a poor idea, so why don't we just go our separate ways. No obligations for anyone," I said sadly. I picked up the sheets, left some cash for the bill and headed for the door. I was defeated in more ways than one. I fucked this up royally by not being completely open about it in the first place. Besides, what was my real motivation for doing this? I wasn't sure I knew.

I was out the door and on my way to my car when I felt a hand grab the sleeve of my jacket. I turned and looked directly into Marilyn's eyes.

"Don't! Don't quit on us. Don't quit on me," she pleaded.

"Marilyn, your friend has made it plain she doesn't trust me. She's fabricated her own ideas about why I'm doing this. You're better off without me if you have any doubt about my motives." 

"Tory ... please. Don't go. I don't want you to even if Molly does," she blurted.

I stood there for a moment, trying to make up my mind. Could I still achieve something even if it was just one of the girls? Why not? One of them might have quit somewhere along the line just because it was too tough. I wouldn't have abandoned the other then, would I?

"OK, Marilyn. Just you and me. As long as you are sure," I warned.

"I'm sure. I guess I'm not as suspicious as Molly. Mostly because I haven't been burned like she has," she said cryptically.

I wasn't interested in Molly at that stage. I would focus my efforts on Marilyn. 

We sat in my car as I went over the changes in schedule. We were going to add some new elements, including weights and upper body exercise. So far, the first month concentrated on lower body, from the hips on down. Now, I wanted her to begin to work on the upper body. After that, phase three would begin to include flexibility exercises and a bit harder push on endurance.

Marilyn accepted the changes after my explanation of the whys and wherefores. I gave her an outline of the whole plan for the next several months to let her know it genuinely was a progressive process and not a haphazard program. She nodded in understanding as I went over the various components and explained their purpose. I know I breathed a sigh of relief as I finished and she gave me a shy smile. 

The next day was Sunday and the first of their "off days." Marilyn decided that my system of alternating Wednesdays and Thursdays was fine and we planned that. We were to meet again on Monday at seven at the rec center to begin the next phase.

You could have knocked me over with a feather when I walked into the fitness room at seven on Monday evening and found both Marilyn and Molly in their exercise wear. 

"So, what's going on," I asked.

"I ... took some time to think about ... you ... and this," Molly said, waving her arm at the room.

"The last time we talked you had a pretty low opinion of me," I said. I wasn't acting very charitable.

"Yeah ... well ... I've got some history. I guess it was unfair to condemn you without a trial. Marilyn told me what you told her. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone off like that. I apologize. I'd like to continue with you and Marilyn ... if you'll let me."

I stood there, eye to eye with her for a moment or two.

"Apology accepted." I handed her my program sheet. "Let's get started."

-0-

The next five months seemed to fly by. The girls were committed to the plan and I never once worried about them following their diet outline. The results spoke for themselves. They were losing serious pounds and gaining strength and flexibility. 

Molly lost the most weight, but I expected that. She was down fifty-seven pounds and was looking spectacular. You could tell she knew it too. She kept complaining about being "hit on," although I got the distinct impression she was happy as hell about it. 

Marilyn lost fifty pounds, but I thought she wouldn't be losing a whole lot more. Perhaps another ten ... maybe fifteen at the most. There was a reason, of course. She was a much bigger-boned woman than Molly. She was never going to be runway-model size. She was always going to be solid and she would always have to work at keeping the weight off. 

When I had the girls measure themselves, I instructed them to do their wrists and ankles as well as the width of their shoulders. When they finally relented and showed me their progress charts, it confirmed my suspicions. I knew from those measurements that Molly was capable of more weight-loss than Marilyn, but I never said anything to either of them about my conclusion. I wasn't about to discourage them. It was important that they believe they were going to be more fit and better looking. On that account, they were both succeeding.

Molly and I got over the rough spot at the end of the first month. I believed that she was convinced I was on the level and not trying to put the make on her. I was scrupulously avoiding any physical contact with the girls that was in any way questionable. I had convinced myself that I was in the role of teacher and mentor and that they were "off-limits."

So imagine my surprise when Molly sidled up to me one evening and gave me the benefit of a nice brush with her breasts on my arm. We were just finished our workout and had showered and changed. At least, Molly and I were changed. Marilyn was still in the locker room. 

"So when are you going to ask me out, Tory?" she asked in a suggestive, low voice.

"I thought we had that discussion?" I said in surprise.

"That was then, this is now," she smirked.

"Molly, I made myself and you two a promise. Hands off! Remember?"

"Yeah and you've been as good as your word. But what if I want to change the rules?" The look in her eyes told me she wasn't fooling. I was reading lust and there was no mistaking it. 

"I thought you were the one who didn't trust me? I recall you being pretty upset that I hadn't been straight about where this program came from," I said firmly.

She stood there, looking at me intently.

"Yeah ... that was me alright. I guess I was reliving some of my past. Guys trying to take advantage of me because they thought I would be easy. You know, fat girl can't get a date. She'll be an easy lay," she said sadly.

"That doesn't change anything, Molly. I promised myself I wouldn't do anything improper while we were doing this program. That still goes. I'm sorry, but as lovely as you are, I'm still hooked on that promise," I said solemnly.

It took all my willpower to turn her down. I tried to do it with some sympathy, but I could see she was disappointed. I assured her that she wasn't going to be short of guys wanting to date her and she could have her pick of the ones she was interested in. It didn't work.

She phoned me on Wednesday evening. It was our "off day" and I was home watching TV when she called.

"Mind if I come over?" she asked in her most sultry voice.

"I don't think that's a good idea," I said.

"Aw ... come on Tory. Give a girl a break. I just want some company. I trust you, remember? No funny business, I promise."

I knew this wasn't a good idea and I knew what she actually wanted, but stupid me, I didn't want to hurt her feelings.

"OK ... no funny business. Agreed?"

"Of course." I could almost see the smile on her face. She didn't mean a word of it.

She arrived ten minutes later and I let her in. 

"This is the first time I've been in your house. It's very nice. It doesn't look like a typical bachelor pad. Very modern and open," she said in admiration as she looked around the great room and kitchen.

"Can I get you something," I offered.

"How about a glass of wine? We can celebrate the new me," she smiled. She was in a bouncy, upbeat mood and it was contagious. She'd accomplished a lot in the last six months.

I poured her a glass of white wine from my cache in the refrigerator and opened a beer for myself. I chose to park myself on a bar stool at the counter in my kitchen, hoping to keep Molly at bay. She frowned at that move, but soon hopped up on the stool beside mine and we touched glasses in a toast.

"I just wanted you to know how grateful I am for all you've done for me," she said seriously. "I like what I see in the mirror these days."

"Good. I'm glad. I think you've both made tremendous progress," I said smiling.

"You still have me confused, though. I'm still wondering why you gave up all your time for us. That's a big sacrifice for a couple of women you didn't know."

I shrugged. "I told you at the time. It was one of those volunteer things. I thought I could make a difference if you two honestly wanted to make it happen. I was pretty sure Marilyn did, but to tell the truth, I wasn't so sure about you," I admitted. 

"You thought I would quit when it got tough, didn't you?" she accused.

"Yes ... I did. I'm happy I was wrong. You've proven you were serious about achieving your goals."

"So there you are. We both were wrong. I thought you were in it to get to us and you thought I couldn't stick it out. So what do you think about us ... me ... now?" she asked. It wasn't an innocent question.

I considered my answer. There was something else going on here. Molly wanted something, I was sure.

"I'm proud of you both," I dodged.

"Do you find me attractive?" she asked. Another loaded question.

"Of course. I told you, I found you and Marilyn attractive when I first saw you," I evaded.

"That's not what I mean. Do you find me ... sexually attractive?" she pushed.

"I thought we agreed no funny business," I complained.

"I lied. You turn me on, Tory. You have almost from the beginning. I'm tired of being a good girl. I want you. I want you to want me. Is that clear enough?"

"Molly ... this is wrong. It's going to ruin what we have going. Don't do this," I pleaded.

"Do what? I'm just a horny woman letting a handsome guy know she's available," she grinned in an evil way.

With that, she slid off the stool and wrapped her arms around my neck and began a long, slow, soulful kiss that couldn't help but get my motor running. I was losing this contest of wills and she knew it. I could feel my erection forming while Molly was rubbing her hand over it. My hands just naturally found their way to her breasts and I began to respond. It was all over but the shouting.

We ended up in my bed and for the next three hours we did it all. I began with some careful tongue and lip and teeth work, starting with her mouth and ears and then down to her breasts. Her nipples were very sensitive, and I made the most of that. After that, I travelled down to her navel and finally her very wet center. She was highly responsive to my tongue.

When I finally entered her, she cried out and her whole body stiffened as I pushed slowly into her. She was having an orgasm just by my entering her. She was more than ready for this. 

I knew I wasn't going to last very long that first time, so I made the most of what I could manage. I warned her that she would have to help me look after her a second time, but as it turned out, it wasn't necessary. She used her internal muscles to massage me and it didn't take long to come back to full strength. Molly was very quick to respond and she made it known how happy she was with my efforts.

We rested a couple of times before she used her mouth to bring me back to life. After three times, despite my fitness, I was done for the night. It was a memorable session, but I was also happy that there wasn't any expectation of more from either of us. 

"You know this was a big mistake," I said.

"Bullshit. It was fun and we both needed it. When was the last time you got laid?" she chuckled.

"I don't remember. A couple of months before I met you, I guess."

"Shit, you're almost as pathetic as me. You're the first guy I've been with in a year. We're a real deprived pair," she laughed.

"You know this isn't going anywhere, don't you?" I said quietly.

"Yeah ... I know. But, I wanted it anyway. Kind of a way to say sorry for doubting you, and a thank you for sticking with me. My life is going to be very different from now on. I already know that. I've got you to thank for that," she said sincerely.

"Please don't say anything to Marilyn about this. I don't want her upset. She's going to need a bit of extra support," I said.

"She is? Why?"

"Because she isn't going to show the same results as you. She can't. She isn't built the same as you. She's going to be very fit and very attractive, but she is never going to be skinny," I finished.

There was a silence between us as we lay on the bed. Then, Molly rolled toward me and propped herself up on her elbow, looking directly at me.

"You've got a thing for her, haven't you?"

"What makes you say that?"

"You're so careful around her. I've seen you watching her. You have a thing for her," she said, convinced.

"I think you're imagining things. She's just a friend I was able to help," I tried.

"Yeah ... sure! Who are you trying to kid. It was her all along, wasn't it?"

I said nothing. I lay back with my eyes closed, hoping this conversation would evaporate.

"I should have seen it. She's got a thing for you too, you know. I can tell. You two are made for each other. I guarantee it!" she grinned.

"I think you're jumping to conclusions," I said unconvincingly.

"Naw ... I know. I can tell. You just have to admit it to yourself," she smiled down at me.

"Well, if that's so, what am I doing here in bed with you?" I countered.

"I ambushed you. You never had a chance. But ... don't go getting all upset. This is a one-off. I wouldn't do anything to hurt Marilyn. She's a very nice gal. She deserves someone like you. You'll be good to her and good for her," she said confidently.

"You sound pretty sure of yourself," I said, looking her in the eyes.

"A woman knows, Tory. We know. Trust me," she said, falling onto her back.

I admit, I was interested in Marilyn. I wondered how she felt about me. Well, this wasn't the time to find out. We still had a couple of months to go on the program and Marilyn was going to need some moral support, I thought.

-0-

As we began the final segment of the program, I cut the girls back to four days per week and let them know that their lifestyle beyond my participation should include a schedule of exercise at least three times per week and that they would need to manage their diets to maintain their weight. It wasn't as daunting as it might have been earlier. Both Molly and Marilyn completely adapted to the regimen over the past seven months and it was now part of their lives; just as we planned.

Our last month was to put the finishing touches on their new lifestyles. We discussed how to keep to the plan even when they were travelling or when they went out for dinner. I gave each of them a custom-tailored exercise program that was designed specifically for their individual needs. I had lifted it from another source, of course, but the girls didn't need to know that. 

I could see a change in Marilyn late in the seventh month. She was frustrated and irritable at times. It wasn't directed at me or Molly and I knew what it was. Her progress was slowing to a crawl and she could see she wasn't going to reach her target weight. The time had come for me to sit down with her and have a heart-to-heart talk. I would have to tell her the truth, as much as that might hurt.

Our new schedule now brought us together on Monday, Wednesday and Thursday evenings, adding Saturday mornings for the fourth segment. I thought about talking to Marilyn on Saturday after lunch, but changed my mind at the last minute and decided on Tuesday evening. I called her just after seven and she answered promptly.




Molly & Marilyn & Me Ch. 01



"Hi ... Marilyn ... it's me ... Tory," I began uncertainly.

"Hi Tory. What's up?" she asked brightly.

"Uhhhmmm ... I was wondering ... would you mind if I came over? I'd like to talk to you," I stammered.

"Uh ... sure ... when?"

"How about now ... I mean ... in a few minutes?"

"OK," she said carefully. "Tory ... is there something wrong?"

"No ... nothing wrong. I mean ... not that way. I just needed to talk to you about ... something," I evaded.

"OK ... I'll see you soon," she said vaguely. 

I was there in ten minutes and she answered the door almost immediately.

"Hi ... come on in," she said, a worried look on her face.

I nodded and walked into the small living room. I hadn't been in her apartment before and I looked around with interest. Neat, tidy, conventional furniture and decorations. A bookshelf with what looked like some family pictures and a couple of traditional landscape prints on the wall. Nothing remarkable at all and yet it looked very nice.

"Can I get you something ... coffee or tea? I'm sorry, I don't have any beer or wine," she apologized.

"No ... nothing, thanks," I said as I sat on the sofa across from her. She chose a wing chair and was watching me intently, that worried look still with her.

"Marilyn, the reason I wanted to talk to you was because I can sense your frustration. I know you are upset that you don't think you are making progress. You couldn't be more wrong," I paused, taking a breath.

"You have made a complete change to your body and your lifestyle in just a few months. You have become a very beautiful and desirable woman and you should be proud of what you have accomplished. You are fit and healthy and I think you have the personal strength to make sure you live your life this way for a long, long time. Please don't be unhappy or discouraged because you don't make some target weight that you have set for yourself," I paused again.

She was watching me, her face now neutral. She was listening, but not making any response, verbal or physical. I pushed on.

"You are never going to weigh as little as Molly unless you starve yourself into an unhealthy state. It's not in your genetic makeup to be skinny. Your bone structure is larger than hers and as a consequence, you will always be bigger than her. Just like lots of guys are bigger than me. I don't want you beating yourself up about something that you can't achieve," I concluded.

I waited for her reaction. At last, she looked at me with a sad smile and nodded.

"I know. I just didn't want to admit it. I'm never going to be as beautiful as Molly," she said quietly.

"No ... stop that ... stop it right now!" I snapped. I sat there for a minute with I'm sure what must have been a red face. I was angry ... no ... frustrated with her. She couldn't see what was as plain as the nose on her face.

"I don't want to hear you talk like that. You are a very beautiful woman. You are not Molly. You are Marilyn. You can't be Molly. You need to be Marilyn. I'm not interested in Molly, I'm interested in Marilyn," I blurted in a moment of irritation.

She looked up in astonishment. My inadvertent confession caught both of us by surprise.

"What do you mean ... interested?" she asked warily.

"Just what it sounds like," I sighed. "I suppose it's been growing on me since that first day we met. I found you fascinating then and nothing's changed. You may not believe this, but you are a very beautiful, sexy, exotic woman. That's how I see you. That's how I think of you. 

"When this ... program of ours is over in a few weeks, I want to ask you out on a proper date. I want to get to know you even better than I do now." I waited for her reaction.

"But why me?" she asked again.

"I don't know how to make this any plainer. I'm attracted to you, Marilyn Lee. You are beautiful, inside and out. You are someone I think I could spend a lot of time with and be very happy," I said evenly.

The look on her face was priceless. Shock first, then bewilderment, then, slowly, a faint smile. Risk taken, reward gained.

I got up and made the three paces to her side, squatted down and took her hands in mine. 

"I'd like to find out if we can make that happen," I said quietly.

She nodded. I leaned forward and kissed her, a gentle brush with my lips across hers. She responded with a more forceful kiss that lingered. 

We talked. We talked about our likes and dislikes and our backgrounds and we laughed. We were together on the sofa with her hand in mine. She knew all along that her target was unrealistic, but she was so committed to our plan that she thought it might be possible. When she could see that it wasn't and that she would have to live with who she was, she reacted. 

She also confessed that she harbored a case of hero-worship when it came to me. In her eyes, I did it all, and all she needed to do was follow orders. She was convinced that only I made all this happen. As much as I would have liked to believe that, we both knew that it wasn't true. Her commitment and effort made it all possible.

She wanted me to acknowledge her in some way that she couldn't articulate. I reminded her of my promise of "hands off." Naturally, I said nothing about my one indiscretion with Molly. I told her what I was planning to buy the two of them for their "graduation presents." The tiniest bikinis I could find.

By the time she was over her laughing fit, she looked at me with wide eyes.

"You wouldn't?"

"You bet I would. On top of that, I would insist you wear them in public and I would take pictures of the both of you for my trophy case," I threatened.

"Never!" she shrieked.

"Oh yes. You can't deny me my pleasure now. After all I've sacrificed for you two, I expect a return on my investment," I insisted.

"I couldn't ... I'd be so embarrassed. I could never ...," she said, wide-eyed.

"We'll see. I bet Molly goes for it," I taunted.

"That's different, she's skinnier," she pouted.

"Yeah ... but you're better looking ... more voluptuous," I countered.

"What's that mean?"

"Better curves in better places."

"Molly told me that you were interested in me," she whispered after a silent moment.

"Yeah. She told me about you too."

"I'm glad she did. Do you think we would have gotten together if she hadn't?"

"Yup. The minute the program was over I'd have been banging on your door looking for a date," I grinned.

"I'd have said yes ... but what kept you?" she laughed.

"Good question ... except ... I made you girls a promise. No hanky-panky. Remember?"

"What do think will happen when Molly finds out?" she asked.

"I think Molly will be happy for us."

She looked up at me again. "Why are you so sure about that?"

"Because she's the one who saw what was going on between us even before we did," I explained.

"Yeah ... she did, didn't she," Marilyn smiled.

"Were you serious about the bikini thing?" 

"Absolutely. If you're that uncomfortable with it, you can model it for me in private before you go public," I offered.

She was watching me to see if I was really serious about this. She guessed I was. 

"Why are you so set on it?" she asked at length.

"Because you have something to prove to yourself. You still aren't convinced that I'm honest about your body being beautiful. The only way I can convince you is to let other people see you the way I see you." 

I wasn't about to give up on this part of my plan. She needed to have a sense of her own self-worth. To do that, she needed to know just what others thought. Other people who didn't know her or have a vested interest in her. 

"Marilyn, a few years ago I was in Cuba on vacation. I was on a white sand beach surrounded by beautiful women, almost all of them wearing bikinis. It was sensory overload. All I could do was sit and watch this endless parade of gorgeous women stroll by. But the woman who caught my eye wasn't like the others. 

"She was older, late-thirties, maybe forty. She had the same jet-black hair, the same exotic eyes, maybe a slightly darker complexion than you. But she was built just like you. Maybe her breasts weren't as large, but the rest of her body was almost a carbon copy of yours. I took her picture when she wasn't watching and I've kept it. Don't ask me why. Maybe I thought she was my 'ideal woman,' I don't know. 

"I still have it. I brought it with me tonight. I hoped you could see in her what I see in you." 

I pulled the photo from my shirt pocket and handed it too her. I watched her carefully as she looked at it. I saw her eyes grow wide in surprise. She looked up at me and then back at the picture.

"She's beautiful," she gasped. "The bikini ... it's so tiny ... she's almost naked." She paused as she studied the photo. She looked back at me.

"You think this is how I look?" she asked, seeking confirmation.

I nodded and smiled. 

"I can see she's not skinny like the others," Marilyn admitted. The picture showed several other women in the background, all of them bikini-clad.

"She one hundred percent all female, Marilyn. Just like you," I asserted. 

"I could never wear anything like that. I'd die of shame," she moaned, shaking her head.

"Not even in private ... just for me?" I asked quietly.

She looked back up at me. I couldn't read her thoughts. Her face was a mask.

"I don't know," she said at last.

"Keep the photo, Marilyn. I don't need it anymore. I have my ideal woman right here in front of me ... in 3D," I smiled.

She blushed. 

I felt I'd put quite enough pressure on her for one evening. I rose to leave.

"I'll see you tomorrow evening," I said as I kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Goodnight."

-0-

We resumed our new schedule for the final four weeks and I saw a noticeable improvement in Marilyn's attitude. She didn't seem to be obsessing about her progress and was more upbeat and smiling more as well. It took the pressure off me and I could enjoy this final month as the girls neared the end of the program.

It was designed to last eight months, each month a phase with a purpose. Surprisingly, I didn't have to alter the timetable to suit either of the girls. They were pretty much on the same progress schedule. That was a bit of good luck rather than good management. We decided to have a party to celebrate their "graduation" and we agreed we would have it on Saturday afternoon after our final session. It would be held at the Pickled Pumpkin, of course. After all, that's where it all began.

I found some artificial parchment paper and printed up a pair of "Certificates of Merit" on my computer and laser printer, using some fancy fonts. They looked great after some trial and error on regular paper. 

I contacted a friend who drove limo on a part-time basis and we made arrangements for him to pick up me and the girls and bring us to the Pumpkin. I didn't want them driving that day. We were going to celebrate. I said nothing to the girls other than we would have our usual lunch on Saturday to celebrate their graduation. 

I told the girls that since we might have a second glass of wine to celebrate, I would be picking them up at their place to take them to the pub. What they didn't expect was to find me in a long black limousine waiting for them. Molly squealed in delight and Marilyn just went wide-eyed when the two of us showed up at her door. There were good vibes about that day.

We arrived at the Pumpkin and I thanked my friend, Pete, for the limo service. I had reserved our usual table, just to make sure someone else didn't get there ahead of us. My girls were quite taken aback at all the fuss that was made over them. Charlie, the manager, and all his girls came by to congratulate my two and they were beaming. Wine was poured. A glass of sparkling white wine served as our champagne. The serving staff all gathered in a circle around the table and began to sing a song of congratulations, clapping their hands and dancing about. What they lacked in musical talent, they made up in enthusiasm. 

Next, Charlie, using the house microphone, announced that Molly and Marilyn were celebrating their graduation from their special fitness class and while not mentioning the number of pounds they lost, made it clear that they had accomplished a major victory. They got a loud round of applause from the patrons at that point.

Molly was reveling in the limelight, but as expected, Marilyn was a bit embarrassed. I wasn't surprised, but I also knew she wasn't upset. She was just as proud of her success as Molly. 

When things quieted down, lunch arrived. I ordered for the girls, knowing they might not want to indulge themselves if I didn't take charge. I ordered five plates of appetizers. More food than we could or should eat, but what the hell, we were celebrating.

We did a pretty good job of demolishing the food, but there was some left that we just couldn't manage. Molly complained that not only did her outer body shrink but her stomach as well. There was a lot of laughter at the table that noon. A number of the regular patrons who witnessed the progress of the girls over the past months stopped by to offer their congratulations. I felt very good about that.

When the girls got up to go to the washroom, it gave me a chance to gather my gifts and the certificates. I switched to my favorite dark ale and I was just getting started on my first pint when the girls returned. I stashed the surprises under the table out of sight. I pulled out the two "diplomas" and passed one to Marilyn and then Molly. I was standing and I congratulated them on their dedication and their accomplishment. I guess some of the patrons heard me and they applauded as I gave the girls their certificates.

They untied the ribbon and unrolled them. They both smiled as they read them and then Molly held hers up for the surrounding audience to see. Molly came around and gave me a big kiss and a thank you. Marilyn soon followed suit. 

After they were seated again, I pulled out the two packages. I knew which one was which, and I handed the yellow package to Molly and the red one to Marilyn. Molly quickly opened her gift and with a whoop of excitement, held up a very small, yellow bikini for everyone to see. There was a card inside and she opened it a read it aloud.

"Now I know why blondes have more fun, signed love and best wishes, Tory," she read. "Oh, Tory. I love it. Thank you for this. Thank you for everything," she said, her eyes glistening.

Marilyn was absently picking at the wrapping on her package, now sensing what was inside. Of course, it was another bikini. This one red. Just like the red in the photograph I gave her. Just like the red in her complexion when she saw it. She took out the card and opened it.

"Be brave, it's all in fun," I said quietly to her.

"Imagine yourself on a sun-drenched sandy beach, signed love and admiration, Tory," she read. 

Marilyn looked at me and forced a smile. She leaned over and hugged me.

"Thank you, Tory. I couldn't have done it without you," she said, smiling through a few tears.

After a while, we started to talk about what comes next. We were different people from the three who embarked on this venture eight months earlier. That included me as well. I got an immense feeling of satisfaction from what the girls accomplished. I began to understand what teachers and other mentors got in return for their efforts. I did this for free and yet I felt I was rewarded more than I could have expected.

Both the girls planned to look for new jobs, primarily because they were no longer "plus size" and that was what their current job featured. Molly talked about going to night school and getting a certificate to allow her to act as a fitness trainer. I thought that was a hell of an idea.

Marilyn in typical fashion, hadn't decided, and was keeping her thoughts private at that point. She wasn't enthusiastic about any one particular thing, but was interested in my work and what it was about. She toyed with the idea of interior design work years ago, but that was shelved when practical considerations of rent and food became paramount. 

Just before four that afternoon, I asked one of the servers to call a cab for us. We dropped Molly off first. She was still on a high, giggling and having fun. I was happy for her and I know Marilyn was too.

As we rode toward Marilyn's apartment, I leaned toward her.

"Are you too tired for company?" I asked.

"Maybe later?" she replied.

"About eight. That will give you some time to rest. Don't say yes if you aren't up to it," I said.

"Eight sounds fine. I'll see you then," she smiled.

When I got home I peeled off my clothes and flopped on my bed. I closed my eyes and before I knew it, I was asleep. I awoke just before seven. Luckily, I didn't have a lot to drink, so I was OK. I stripped my shorts and socks off and headed for the shower. It was the refresher I needed.

Just before eight I left the house and drove to Marilyn's apartment. I was wondering what to expect. I was a bit nervous about where our relationship might go now that we were finished with the fitness program. 

She knew I was interested in her. The question was, did she feel anything for me? And then there was the challenge of convincing her of how others saw her. It wasn't just me with rose-colored glasses. A number of people mentioned how attractive she was that afternoon. The young guys all had their tongues hanging out for Molly. But a number of them were stealing looks at Marilyn and likely wondering if there was a chance. Not if I had anything to do with it.

I hardly finished knocking when the door opened. Marilyn stood there wearing the clothes she wore that afternoon. She filled that dress out magnificently. She was smiling and welcomed me in. Her hair was combed back and she was wearing that eye makeup that caught my attention the very first time I saw her. She was also barefoot.

"Did I tell you how good you look," I smiled. 

"Thanks. It's been a special day. I didn't want it to end," she sighed.

I turned to her and moved toward her with my arms outstretched. She slipped inside them and we kissed. It wasn't a long, passionate kiss. It was light and ... careful.

"You have the most beautiful eyes," I said softly.

"A gift from my grandfather," she responded. 

"It's a wonderful gift. The eyes, the hair, the lovely coloring of your skin. I'll have to thank your grandfather some day."

"I have some wine. Would you like some?" 

"Yes ... please. That would be nice."

I followed her swaying hips into the kitchen as she took a bottle of red from the counter. It was already open and a half-full glass sat on the counter nearby.

"I had to test it," she said. "It might have turned to vinegar." She was nervous. I wasn't sure why.

We returned to the living room and sat beside each other on the sofa. I was just about to say something when Marilyn turned to me.

"Tory, you know how much I appreciate what you've done for me. I know you don't want to take the credit, but I know I wouldn't have succeeded without your help. I'll always be very grateful for that."

Uh oh ... this sounded very much like a prelude to a brush-off. My gut tightened as I waited for the "but."

"Molly and I have been looking for new jobs, as you know. Well, earlier this week I got a phone call. It was from an agency that represents a big retail chain store. They are looking for people to model their clothes for catalogue and flyer photos. I applied to them a month ago and sent them some pictures Molly took of me.

"They've accepted my application and they want to interview me. I'll be meeting with them next week." She seemed to be telling me this very carefully for some reason.

"That's wonderful, Marilyn. I told you all along that others would see how beautiful you were," I said with genuine enthusiasm.




Molly & Marilyn & Me Ch. 01



"Tory ... that's not all. If I get the job, they want me to model at their stores around the country. I'll be travelling quite a bit. I may even have to move," she finished, unable to look at me.

"Oh ... wow ... that's ... something. Really something," was the best I could manage. "I can't imagine them not offering you the job. You're perfect for it. It will make you famous, too," I said, losing some of my enthusiasm as I went.

"I know we have ... feelings for each other. I feel like I'm letting you down. I didn't expect them to even reply to my application. It's all come as a big surprise. Molly encouraged me and now ... now I'm committed," she said with forlorn look.

"Did Molly apply too?" I asked.

She nodded. "They sent her a nice letter, but she wasn't chosen."

I sat quietly looking at the one woman I truly wanted in my life, realizing then that it wasn't going to happen. I don't think I'd ever felt quite this let down. All the air was gone from my balloon. That great uplift at the lunch celebration this afternoon had dissolved into nothing.

I took her hand in mine. "I'm happy for you, Marilyn. You deserve this. You're going to have a very good life, I know. Let's try and stay in touch if we can. I'm going to want to follow your career," I said with a forced smile.

We talked for a while longer, but I lost my focus and just wanted to go home and lick my wounds. My day went from great joy to misery in a few moments. A few moments that I wouldn't forget for a long time.

It didn't come as a surprise to anyone except Marilyn that she was hired. She phoned me Wednesday evening to tell me the news and I could hear the excitement in her voice. She was going to be living a life of glamour and fame and she could hardly wait to get started. We talked for a while, mostly her telling me about all the places she would be going and the events and sessions she would be involved in. 

She would be starting the next week and already her employers were pressuring her to move to Chicago, their head office city, since that's where the studio photo shoots would take place. It sounded to me like she didn't have a choice. 

In a way, it was better that she did move. I wouldn't see her around to remind me of what might have been. It would be a clean cut and both of us could get on with our lives. 

Molly dropped by to commiserate with me, knowing how I felt about Marilyn. I got the impression she was willing to act as a stand-in; you know, friends with benefits. It wouldn't work for me and I politely declined. I think she was relieved. She admitted she let slip to Marilyn that she and I "hooked up" one night. She took all the blame, but I couldn't guess how Marilyn might have felt about that news. It didn't matter now.

I returned to my pre-volunteer life. Work, a pint, home, the usual. The girls regularly asked about Molly and Marilyn, but aside from the infrequent letter from Marilyn and an occasional phone call from Molly, I didn't have much news. Molly did mention that there was a new man in her life and she was hoping that he might be the "one." 

Marilyn wrote me a couple of letters filled with the excitement of her new job and the places she had been. After a couple of months, the letters were few and far between. A post card now and then seemed to be her only communications.

I wasn't looking for a replacement. I wasn't sure anyone would measure up to my expectations. Oh, I went out on the odd date, but nothing happened, probably because I didn't let anything happen. The women I dated must have thought I was a total dud. I couldn't blame them.

I missed having lunch with them on Saturday. I went back to my little table for two in the solarium and my life resumed its previous course. I wasn't unhappy, just indifferent. My girls at the Pumpkin did their best to cheer me up and a couple of them came on to me, but like my dates, I just couldn't work up any enthusiasm. Besides, the last thing I wanted to do was piss in the pickles at my own personal place of worship.

-0-

Part 2 to follow



Molly & Marilyn & Me Ch. 02



During the summer, I scored a big contract with the town school board and began working with an architect on a new school design. It was to be a departure from the conventional school configuration and I was, for the first time in a long time, really excited about something. On top of that, although the contract for materials would go through the bid process, local suppliers would be given preference. I was pretty sure my employer would get a better than even chance to win what would be a huge contract. 

The contract provided bonuses for early completion and under-budget spending. I worked closely with the architect and engineering firms to make sure we modularized everything we could to cut costs and to make construction and assembly as simple as possible. We succeeded and I felt a great sense of satisfaction when the bids were received and my employer won the supply contract. 

I went back to house and apartment design with an enhanced reputation and some solid connections with both the town and the architectural community. It revitalized me and I was feeling better than I had in a long time. 

It was early that fall that I met Marilyn's parents. It was quite by accident. They had come into the store to look at kitchen cabinets and fixtures. They were considering remodeling their kitchen.

All the other sales consultants were busy and I saw them standing and wondering when they would find someone to talk to. I left my upstairs office and walked down to the main floor and approached them.

"Good morning, may I help you?" I asked.

"Yes ... thank you. We are considering remodeling our kitchen. We need some advice," the attractive middle-aged woman said.

"I'll be glad to help. My name is Tory Payne? I work in the design department," I said.

"Oh ... I'm Margaret Lee and this is my husband, Walter," she said looking carefully at me. "Do I know you? Your name sounds familiar."

I shrugged. I looked at them both and noticed the Asian features of her husband. It dawned on me who they might be.

"Do you have a daughter, Marilyn?" I asked.

"Yes ... yes we do," she replied quickly.

"Ah ... well ... that explains it. Her friend Molly and your daughter and I were involved in a weight-loss program."

"Of course! You're the Tory that Marilyn always talked about. Walter and I were absolutely amazed at what you accomplished," she gushed. Walter, who had yet to say a word, was nodding vigorously. 

"We don't hear from her very much. She used to talk about you and Molly all the time. We were very happy that you helped her so much. I can't thank you enough for what you did for her. I'm just sorry it's taken us this long to tell you that," Walter said quietly.

"Now, she seldom calls and when she does, she hardly ever mentions you or Molly. It's all about her work and the places she goes," he continued. "What happened?"

"Sir, I wish I could tell you for sure. I know that there were issues of self-esteem when we were working together. I hoped they would disappear with the pounds when she became fit and healthy. Unfortunately, she didn't believe in herself until this job and all the fame came along. It was the proof to her that she was as beautiful as I told her all along."

"She had a difficult teen-age," Margaret said. "She gained weight and began to obsess about it and then gained more weight. She was very unhappy with herself. She was bright and good in school, but didn't have a social life. She hardly ever had a date in high school. We tried to help her, but nothing worked. You were the only person who actually made a difference."

"I can't take the credit, folks. When Molly and Marilyn came to me for advice, they were ready to do something about their weight. I was just the facilitator. They did all the work. I was a cheerleader for them. I never once needed to lecture them or push them to do the right thing or stick to their diets. They did it because they wanted to and they wanted to succeed. That's what happened," I finished.

"That's not the way Marilyn tells it," Walter smiled. "I got the impression she was infatuated with you."

"I did too," I admitted. "I wanted it to happen, to tell the truth. I promised I wouldn't go near them until the program was finished, but ... that turned out to be my downfall. That gave her the time to find this job, and I couldn't compete."

"Well, I'm very disappointed in Marilyn not staying in touch with either her family or you. We brought her up to be better than that," Margaret said emphatically.

"I think the glamour and intensity of her job are probably affecting her. I guess we just have to be patient and see how it all works out," I said in a conciliatory tone. 

We got back to the topic of the kitchen renovation and I started to ask them some specific questions about musts and wants and like-to-haves. That hierarchy and their budget would answer a lot of questions early on and I could start to steer them in the right direction.

We spent the rest of the morning together. After going over the various quality options in the range of manufacturers we represented, we moved to my office where we wouldn't be interrupted. I listened to them as I opened my Graf paper notebook and began to sketch some ideas as they talked.

The Lee's had come well prepared. They had taken the dimensions and recorded the shape of their existing kitchen, along with the location of the appliances. They were making my job much easier. By lunch time, we had three possible designs that I could prepare on my computer and present estimates for all of them.

I took note of their phone number and address and promised to call them later in the week when I would be able to show them the proposals on my laptop. I could do it at the office or I would meet them in the evening at their home or mine. On Thursday afternoon, I called Mrs. Lee and let her know the presentations were complete, along with printed estimates. We agreed to meet at my home. I think she wanted to see what my kitchen looked like.

Within an hour of their arrival, I had an approved design with very few changes and a contract for the work. We spent the next hour with my showing them the improvements I had made in my bungalow over the years. They began to think about similar renovations to their home once the kitchen was completed. 

I offered them a refreshment and Walter and I had a beer while Margaret chose a glass of red wine. We toasted the successful design and then chatted for while. Naturally, the subject of Marilyn wasn't far from any of our thoughts. 

"You said you had feelings for Marilyn," Margaret said carefully.

"Yes ... I did ... I still do. There was something about her that ... right from the beginning ... attracted me to her. It's one of those intangibles that I can't describe. It's just a feeling."

"Did she ever tell you how she felt about you?" Walter asked.

"No ... not in so many words. I thought we had something ... but ... it died before it ever developed. The new career popped up unexpectedly, and that put an end to whatever we might have had."

"I'm sorry about that, Tory," Margaret said. "I was sure she had a crush on you. I was hoping that she would bring you to our home so that we could meet the man that transformed her into a beautiful woman. She owes you so much." There was emotion in this mother's voice.

I shrugged. I didn't happen and there wasn't much any of us could do about it. 

We talked a bit more about their ambitions to modernize their home. It was in a very nice area of town and it was an exceptional piece of property that they didn't want to give up. I agreed to drop over some afternoon for a guided tour when the kitchen was being renovated and we could discuss ideas for making their home even more livable. They made it clear that they wanted to stay in this house for many years to come. 

When they left, I saw that it was almost ten o'clock. Too early for bed, but there was nothing on TV that interested me. I opened another beer and sat in my living room, thinking about what might have been. I had never been affected by a woman quite the way Marilyn had affected me. Was it love? We had so little personal private contact that it was hard to believe that it could be. But ... something was there. Certainly something for me.

-0-

My end-of-year bonus was very large. I topped up my retirement plan and there was still some left for "mad money."

I hadn't taken a vacation in almost two years. Spring wasn't the best time to have chosen, but my boss, Jerry Redekop, could hardly complain, and I promised I would catch up when I returned. I booked the first three weeks of May and planned my getaway. I chose Europe. I had never been there and I was intrigued by the architecture and history. 

As my plane lifted off from the airport, I remembered that it was this very weekend a year ago that Molly, Marilyn and I celebrated their "graduation." It seemed like a long time ago. I felt sadness at losing almost all contact with Molly, and hearing nothing from Marilyn. I had been a big part of their lives for almost a year, but that was then and this was now.

I had booked a Euro Rail pass for 21 days and took advantage of it as I rolled from France to Germany to Switzerland, then Italy. It was so different from North America I was almost overwhelmed. All the structures that I had read about in text books and had seen on TV were now three-dimensional. 

I caught myself wondering what Marilyn would think of Europe. Would she be as dazzled by the history and architecture? Would she be overcome by the opulent interiors of the cathedrals? Would the statues and sarcophagi of famous people, names seen by us only in text books have the emotional impact they were having on me?

I started a journal, making daily entries on my laptop. It was a way to remind myself of what I had seen and where I had been. I was taking many photographs each day in an attempt to capture these amazing scenes. There was so much that I couldn't absorb it all. The rail travel was the opportunity to sit and reflect on what was happening around me.

At night, in my hotel room, I would plan the next day, check the journal to make sure I hadn't missed anything important, download the photos I had taken, recharge the batteries in my digital camera, and then to bed. I would dream of the wonders I was seeing, and often, in the most improbable places, Marilyn would appear. 

Despite the rail travel, I was doing a great deal of walking and I was exhausted at the end of each day from the exercise, as well as from trying to absorb everything I was seeing. Perhaps I was attempting to do too much in too short a time, but that was my choice. I had already decided to revisit Europe again; possibly to Spain, or Greece, or the Czech Republic.

When I returned from my vacation, I was both excited and humbled. I was energized by all the new ideas I saw on my travels. Ideas that I could incorporate into my designs. New products that I could introduce to my employer that would make them even more successful. And humbled when I thought of my work compared to what had been accomplished several hundred years earlier by men with only a fraction of the technology we enjoyed. 

I brought home a few brochures and logged several bookmarks to websites of the various manufacturers that I encountered along the way. Most of them had English language capability. It would take many hours of review to go through all the possible options, but it gave me a project once I was caught up on my regular work.

Several weeks later I was finally operating on my usual schedule. In the meantime, I had been using my spare time to put together some proposals for my boss, Jerry, on new products for the store. I knew he wasn't enthusiastic about sticking his neck way out, so I suggested we try some hardware items to begin with, just to see how they were received. 

Bingo! We succeeded, and as each month went by, Jerry began to ask me what I could show him next. We were on a roll and I was enjoying every minute of it. For that matter, so was Jerry.

I wasn't stopping in at the pub after work very often. There was plenty to do at home getting my proposals organized. I was also installing some of the wonderful bathroom and kitchen hardware that we now stocked. A number of the manufacturers were anxious to have us try their products, so I became the guinea pig for some of the items. 

Now and then, I made time for a pint before going home. Jerry and I had become quite close in the last couple of years. He was very appreciative of my efforts on his behalf; the bonus being living proof. We were sitting in the Pied Pumpkin one late afternoon. A couple of the weekday regulars had stopped by to say hello and wonder about where I had been. Of course, they also asked about Molly and Marilyn. 

Naturally, Jerry was curious. He had been kidding me about my "lack of love life" and would needle me regularly by pointing out attractive women that might be girlfriend material. It was all in good fun, but never amounted to anything. He knew nothing about my program with Molly and Marilyn. When the patrons mentioned their names, he was immediately on the attack.

"Ah hah! I knew it. A secret pair of women you've been hiding from me," he smirked.

"Nope. Just a couple of ladies I helped out," I said noncommittally.

"Yeah ... sure." He had the look of a man who didn't believe a word I was telling him.

"Seriously ... ask anyone here. They were a couple of overweight young women who I got to know here at the Pumpkin. They wanted to lose weight, so I put them on the program that I used when I got my weight down," I explained.

"Did it work?" he asked.

"Yeah ... too well. I got interested in one of them, but when the program was over, she got a job as a model. She was gone in a flash and I haven't seen her since."

"Well, how about that," he said solemnly. "All that effort and she disappears. Doesn't sound fair to me."

"That's how it goes sometimes, Jerry. Just when you think you've found the right one, poof!"

"Yeah ... I guess so. That explains a lot though," he said with a wrinkled smile.

"Oh ... like what?"

"Like why you weren't interested in any of the available women that I've been dangling in front of you in the last year."

"Oh ... yeah ... I suppose I have been kind of mooning around," I admitted.

"Just a bit. You think there's any chance this girl is coming back anytime soon?"

"No ... not really. She's on her way to fame and fortune. I doubt she'll think of me at all."

"Don't be so sure. One of these day's she's going to figure out that none of what she had would have been possible without you. What's her name?"

"Marilyn ... Marilyn Lee."

"Got a picture?"

I paused for a moment and then it hit me. I didn't have a picture. I don't know why, but I didn't. Perhaps some of the girls might have taken some at the graduation party. I waved to our server.

"Laney ... do you know if anyone has any pictures of the party we had for Molly and Marilyn?"

"Sure, Tory. I do. Would you like to see them?"

"Absolutely. I may want to make copies of them too."

"No problem. They're stored on the boss's computer. I'll print some out in a few minutes and bring them to you."

"Thanks, Laney. I really appreciate that."

"I'm anxious to see this girl," Jerry smiled.

"Me too," I said absently. They would be the only tangible memories of that wonderful time.

We continued with some small talk and our drinks until Laney appeared with a brown manila envelope. 

"There are about eight that show the girls off, Tory. I printed them on regular paper, but I'll send them to your e-mail address and you can print them on gloss if you like," she explained.

"Great, Laney. Thanks. I can't believe I didn't have any pictures from that day."

"Well, it was pretty hairy around here about then," she laughed. "I'm not surprised."

I opened the unsealed envelope and slid the prints out. They were candid shots and not all of them were great, but I found three that I knew I wanted to print out on photo paper. One showed the two girls laughing at something or someone. They were standing and you could see just how attractive their bodies now were.

Another was a picture of Marilyn and me watching Molly unroll her certificate. We were all seated, and we all had happy expressions. The third, however, brought me up short. It was a picture of Marilyn, in profile, sitting by herself with a quiet, peaceful look about her. It was perfect. I passed it to Jerry.

"Wow ... I can see why you'd be upset. She gorgeous, Tory," he said sincerely.

I nodded. I was surprised at the emotion the picture evoked. Much of it had been suppressed, but her appearance in my dreams and thoughts at random times convinced me she was deeply imbedded in my psyche. 

-0-

I was sitting out back after dinner on my new, enlarged sundeck, enjoying the warm spring evening. I guess I must have been dozing because I didn't respond to the phone when it rang. When I realized what the sound was, I jumped up and dashed to the kitchen. I checked the screen to make sure it wasn't a telemarketer and noticed a local number, but no name. I decided to let it go to voicemail.

It took about five seconds to recognize the voice as Molly's and I picked up as she began to leave her message.

"Hi Molly ... good to hear from you," I said brightly.

"Oh ... Hi Tory, it's been a long time," she said in her usual upbeat tone.

"Are you still here in town?"

"Uh, no. I live in Seattle now. I'm just here visiting my parents. I thought I'd give you a call," she explained.

"I'm glad you did. We haven't talked in a long time. What's going on in your life?"

"Actually, I'm engaged," she said happily.

"Wonderful. Who's the lucky guy?"

"Uhmmm ... he works for Boeing ... in Seattle. His name is Grant Larkin. We've been going out for a few months. He's a great guy, Tory. You'd like him. He's a lot like you, in a way."

"I'm happy for you, Molly. I knew you'd find the right guy some day," I said sincerely.

We chatted for a few minutes, catching up on each other's life when the subject of Marilyn came up.

"Have you seen or heard from Marilyn lately," I asked.

"No ... not for months. I saw her the last time she was in Seattle, after Christmas. I only got to talk to her for a few minutes. She was in a hurry to get somewhere." I detected a hint of disappointment in her voice.

"How is she?" I dared.

"I don't know, Tory. Something ... something was off ... you know. Not something I could see, but ... she didn't seem as happy as I remembered her. Maybe it was just the hassle and all the hard work. She did tell me she was working harder than she ever imagined she could. She looked great, Tory. She looked fabulous, to tell the truth," she concluded.

"I'm glad. I hope she's happy. I'd hate to think she went through all that and not be satisfied," I said.

"She hasn't called you at all?" Molly asked.

"Nope. Not a word. No cards, even. I guess I'm yesterday's news." 

"Why wouldn't she call? If I see her, I'm going to give her a piece of my mind. It's the least she could do is stay in touch. She owes you that much," she said indignantly.

"Don't worry about it, Molly. I'm doing fine and I'm sure she's very busy. I know I'll hear from her one of these days." I wished I could convince myself of that.

We talked for a few minutes more and then said our goodbyes before hanging up. It was good to hear her happy voice and I was pleased she found "Mr. Right." I promised her I would be at the wedding in June. It would be just a little over two years since we finished the fitness program. I know Molly kept to her routine and it sounded like Marilyn did as well. After all, her job depended on it, I reasoned.

Two months later, I found myself in a very warm church in Seattle with several dozen other people, none of whom I knew. I had never met Molly's parents nor did I recognize any of her bridesmaids. I assumed they were all local and not from our hometown. The groom was a good-looking guy, fairly tall with sandy-blonde hair and a lean build. He looked pretty fit, I thought.




Molly & Marilyn & Me Ch. 02



Molly looked dazzling. Her satin-white wedding dress emphasized her fabulous body and she was all smiles as her father walked her down the aisle. Molly wasn't a weeper and I got the impression she just wanted to get this formality over with so she and her new hubby could party. I was looking forward to the reception. It might turn out to be very entertaining.

I searched the assembled crowd in the church for any sign of Marilyn, but she wasn't there. I was disappointed. I'm not sure I didn't come to Seattle just on the hope that I would see her again. On the other hand, I wouldn't want to disappoint Molly. She was loyal, keeping in touch with me. I owed her this at least.

The reception was held in a nice hall not far from Boeing Field. I walked into the hall and immediately was assailed by the music. The band had already begun for some of the early arrivals and those who may have skipped the church service. The food was out and I moved toward the big table, not having eaten since breakfast at my motel. It was a magnificent spread and I overindulged, of course. 

The bride and groom arrived, and after the cutting of the cake, the obligatory toasts, speeches and reading of congratulatory messages, a reception line was formed and we all queued up to pass on more good wishes to the bride and groom. 

I mingled with some of the other guests, picking up an interesting conversation or two along the way. It seemed the principal interest of most guests was to determine on which side of the spectrum I fell – bride or groom. After a while, I began to alternate my answers just for the fun of it. I was either Molly's teacher or Grant's classmate. I like a little bit of confusion now and then.

I got a chance to chat with Grant before he and Molly left for their honeymoon in Hawaii. In fact, he sought me out after Molly told him who I was and why he should be grateful to me. He seemed like a great guy, with a good job and excellent future prospects. I got the sense that he was head-over-heels in love with Molly and that was fine with me.

I was beginning to think about leaving when I spotted her. I stopped dead in my tracks as I saw her come through the door and head directly to Molly. Marilyn was as beautiful as I remembered her. If anything, she seemed a bit slimmer than when I last saw her, but that was over two years ago. People change. 

I began to move in her direction but decided not to interrupt her conversation with Molly and Grant. It seemed very animated and I thought I saw an unhappy look on Molly's face for a moment. As I got closer, Molly spotted me and said something to Marilyn. She turned and then saw me. I couldn't tell what kind of look crossed her face at that point. It didn't seem to be joy or even surprise. I continued to walk toward her.

"Hello, Tory," she said, gazing at me with a cautious expression.

"Hello, Marilyn. Good to see you after all this time. Glad you came," I said evenly.

"I'm late. I seem to be late a lot these days," she moaned with a frown. 

"Are you still living in Chicago?"

"Yes ... for now." Her eyes were cast downward, the way I remembered seeing her look so many times before. It was a shy, uncomfortable Marilyn in front of me.

"How are you? Are you well? Are you enjoying your job?" I asked, knowing I just wanted to keep the conversation going.

"I'm OK. Busy ... very busy. They keep me running steadily, so I don't have a lot of time to dwell on it. The job is ... great. They pay me a silly amount, so it's worth the effort," she said. 

She sounded and looked tired. The makeup around her eyes, once so beautiful and naturally perfect, couldn't hide the dark circles. As I looked more carefully, I could see her angular cheekbones were now more prominent. I thought she looked slimmer when I first saw her, and up close I was sure I was right. She looked ... harder.

"Are you just here for the day?" I asked.

"I'm staying over at the Marriot tonight and then I've got a flight back to Chicago tomorrow noon.

"Do you have time to have dinner with me? I'm staying over too," I said.

She looked at me with what appeared to be a sad expression before a slight smile appeared.

"Sure. I can do that," she agreed. 

"Why don't we meet at the Marriot?" I suggested. "There's a nice restaurant next door. I'll make a reservation. Is seven OK?"

"Seven's fine. But ... do you have to rush off now?" she asked with a plaintive note.

"No ... no ... I thought ... maybe you'd want to mingle ... or something?" I said, surprised.

"No ... I don't know anyone here except Molly, her parents, and you. I'd like to find somewhere we can go that's quiet and we can relax and sit for a while. I want to talk to you. It's been so long, Tory," she said sorrowfully. 

I could see the beginnings of tears forming. I took her hand and smiled at her. 

"I'd love to. We've got a lot of catching up to do," I said.

That brightened her up. I swept two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and offered her one. We sipped, looking into each other's eyes and clinked glasses. 

"The last time we saw each other we were doing this," I reminded her. 

"Those were happy times, Tory. I sometimes wish ...." She didn't complete the thought. 

Molly spotted us together and was dragging Grant with her.

"I'm so glad you both came," she gushed. My two best friends in the whole world ... except for a certain gentleman who shall remain nameless," she giggled as she kissed Grant's cheek. 

"Wouldn't have missed it for the world," I said, now quite honestly.

"Have you shown Grant the before and after pictures yet?" Marilyn teased. Her mood was suddenly upbeat.

"No ... and don't you dare. You'll scare the life out of him. I just told him that we were a little overweight and Tory fixed all that," she gasped. Grant was smiling. I suspected he knew the whole story. Molly was too proud of her accomplishment to keep it a secret. 

"But you," Molly said pointedly at Marilyn. "You look positively gaunt. What's with that?"

"Oh ... you know ... just the pressure of work. On the go all the time. It helps keep me thin," she tried.

Molly looked at me with a disapproving scowl before turning back to her friend.

"Come on, Molly. We've got a plane to catch in a few hours and you need to toss the bouquet and get changed," Grant said with a firm voice.

"Yes, dear. See ... he's ordering me around already and we've only been married a couple of hours," she said in mock disgust. 

We all chuckled before hugging and shaking hands. Marilyn and I stood holding hands as Molly tossed the bouquet over her shoulder. The last we saw of them was their waves as they paraded out the door. I turned to Marilyn and smiled.

"There we are. Molly is now Mrs. Grant Larkin. One down, one to go," I cracked.

Marilyn turned to me and gave me the strangest look, but said nothing. I wondered if I'd said something to upset her, but I couldn't tell.

"Come on, let's go find a place to sit and talk. I want to hear all about your glamorous life," I said brightly. I took her hand, knowing now she arrived by cab, and led her to my car.

"You have a new car?" she exclaimed.

"Yes ... a present to myself for a job well done," I laughed.

I held the door for her as she slipped into the passenger seat. It was only a ten minute drive to the Marriot on a sunny, June afternoon. The Mariners weren't in town, so traffic was fairly light. We arrived and walked from the parking garage to the elevators. I was about to push the button to the lobby when Marilyn pushed the fifteenth floor button. She turned to me.

"It's more private in my room. There's a bar and a sitting area. We can relax. We can even call room service," she said with that familiar faint smile.

"Fine." I certainly wasn't going to argue. At last, I would have my private time with her. Something I wanted for a long, long while. I needed to deal with the ghost of Marilyn Lee somehow, and this was my best opportunity.

Her room was a suite, with a separate bedroom and two bathrooms. Marilyn had certainly come up in the world. 

"Would you like something from the mini bar or should I order room service?" she asked.

"Mini bar, if it has a beer," I said.

"Help yourself, Tory. I'm just going to go change. Take your jacket and tie off. Be comfortable," she said with some authority. She slipped into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

I was nervous. I didn't know what to expect. This was a different Marilyn than the woman I came to know and had fallen for. Her behavior was sometimes predictable and sometimes not. One moment she was serious and almost on the point of tears and the next she was happy and upbeat. Something was wrong or different or ... what?

I wandered about the large sitting room until I heard the bedroom door open and Marilyn reappeared. She was wearing a brilliant red and black kimono. It was very elegant and suited her perfectly. It displayed her Asian heritage dramatically. She was covered from neck to ankle and yet I could still make out the natural curves of her body. She was barefoot, just as I remembered her from that last evening we were together. I sighed in regret as I thought of what might have been.

"You look lovely," I said.

"Thank you. It's the most comfortable thing I own. Everything else is on loan or given to me. I don't get to choose my clothes much any more." Again, I heard the sound of regret in her voice.

We sat in opposing love seats. I was nursing a beer and I poured a white wine for Marilyn.

"You still remember," she said, raising her glass.

I nodded with a smile. "It hasn't been that long," I chided.

"It seems like it, Tory. It seems like a hundred years. I don't know how much longer I want to go on with this crazy game," she said with a sigh.

"Can you quit?" I asked simply.

"I suppose. I don't have a contract. I'm just an employee, here as long as it suits them. One of these days I'll be too old or too fat or too ... something ... and they'll replace me. That's how it is in this business," she said in a matter-of-fact voice. 

"Why don't you quit. Are you short of money?" I asked.

"Oh god no ... that's not the issue. They pay me well for this ... torture. I'm not a big spender and I'm not a party girl. Most of what I've earned I still have. I could quit today and live for several years on what I have. No ... it isn't about the money," she admitted.

"Then why?" It was a simple question that I desperately needed to have an answer for.

"It's addictive, Tory," she said, looking down at her hands. "Do you remember how hard it was to convince me that I was attractive?" she asked.

"Of course. You were very difficult to convince."

"You told me that I needed someone from the 'outside' to tell me that. You said I wouldn't truly believe it until I heard it from people who didn't know me or didn't have an ulterior motive. I never actually understood that until these people came along.

"When they offered me that first job and told me how much they were going to pay me, I knew you were right. I was so excited to discover that you were right. They thought I was beautiful. They wanted me. They wanted the real me. I couldn't believe it. It was like a fairytale. Small town girl loses weight and become big city model. Things like that don't happen in real life. Except ... except ... because of you ... they happened to me," she smiled.

"But now?" I asked carefully.

"I'm tired, Tory. It's like being on the treadmill at the rec center except you can never get off. These last two years ... it's been a blur. I don't have a social life or a private moment. I had to beg to come here this weekend. They wanted to do a photo-shoot in Arkansas or West Virginia or some damn place I'd never heard of. You know what for? Fucking blue jeans!" she spat. 

I had never heard Marilyn swear before. Ever!

"Because the owner lives in hillbilly heaven, he wanted the blue jean flyer to have us stand in front of his barn or outhouse or whatever."

I could see the anger and frustration in her face, now red with emotion.

"Then why do it?" I asked again.

"I told you, it's addictive. The adrenalin rush when I see myself in the paper or on TV. I'm a celebrity junkie, Tory. I can't help myself. I can't do a damn thing about my life right now," she cried as the tears began to flow.

I stepped across the room and sat beside her, wrapping my arm around her and holding her close.

"You don't have to do this, Marilyn. It's killing you. It's killing you a bit at a time. I can see it in your eyes. You aren't the same woman that I remember. You've got to decide what you want for your life. It doesn't sound to me that what you have now is what you want tomorrow," I said softly.

She was weeping openly now, her head tucked into my neck and shoulder. I held her as she sobbed. It was all I could do. Hold her and comfort her and try and make her understand how much she could be in charge of her own fate.

We stayed like that for some time before I realized she had drifted off. I leaned back and her head flopped on my shoulder, but she didn't wake. I couldn't think of a better way to spend a Saturday afternoon in Seattle. 

At some point, I nodded off as well. Not for long, but I woke realizing the sun was starting to come into the room through the window. My arm was numb, but I wasn't going to move it as long as Marilyn was asleep. She needed this desperately and it was a small sacrifice to make. 

I have no idea how long we stayed in that embrace, but it didn't matter. I was in the company of the woman I now knew I loved. I had been denying it and dancing all around the reality, but now, with her here so close, I knew. And that meant I had to tell her and convince her that I truly did love her. If she rejected me, I would at least know that I had confessed my true feelings. Whatever happened after that ... well ... some things you can't control.

I could see the clock on the television and it read six-oh-eight. I felt Marilyn stir and as I looked down, I saw her eyelids flicker and then gradually open. I felt her stiffen as she woke, perhaps disoriented and wondering who was holding her, but almost as soon, she relaxed and looked up at me.

"Have I been asleep long?" The tracks of her tears were still visible on her cheeks. 

"A while. You must have been tired."

She snuggled into me. I moved my arm, hoping to restore circulation soon. 

"It feels so good with you here, Tory. I've missed you."

"I've missed you more than you can know," I whispered, wondering how she would react.

Her head came up slowly again to look at me. Her eyes were clear and unblinking. They widened slightly, as if she suddenly recognized something.

"Were you hoping I would be here today?" she asked.

"With all my fingers and toes crossed," I admitted.

She smiled. "I wanted you to be here too."

"Well, here we are. What do you want to do about it?" I challenged quietly.

She sat up, looking at me intently. After a moment or two, she straightened herself and then swung her leg over mine and straddled me, her face almost touching mine. She was staring directly into my eyes, again unblinking. The next thing I knew, she was kissing me forcefully and passionately. I wrapped my arms around her back and held her as she continued to kiss, her tongue forcing its way into my mouth and encouraging me to respond. 

We were never this close or this intimate before. I wasn't sure what might happen next, but I was damn sure not going to stop. I became aware that she was dry-humping my leg as she attacked me with her mouth. There was an aroused woman on my hands and I was at a loss to know what to do next. Marilyn solved that problem.

She backed off and began to unbutton her kimono. She worked her way slowly down the front of the gown never once taking her eyes off me. I was tempted to watch, but I was drawn to her eyes. It was like the first day I met her. They were her weapons. With those she could destroy me. When Marilyn undid all the buttons, she shrugged the kimono off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. She was naked beneath it. 

I had never seen her body in anything more revealing that her exercise outfit. Now, in this softly sunlit hotel room, she was bare and she was exquisite. She rose up on her haunches and placed a breast at my lips. I was helpless to resist. I feasted on it, nibbling and licking and nipping and nuzzling. After a few minutes she changed and I repeated the delightful exercise on her other breast. 

I gazed at her body. Her skin was flawless and even darker than I remembered. She was shaved. There was no vaginal hair at all and I found the look to be enormously arousing. She continued to rub her slit on the thigh of my pants and I could see the trail of moisture that it left behind. There was no mistaking her intention. I was going to realize my dream after all.

She was naked and I was still dressed. She grinned and snorted and then slipped back off my lap and took my hand, pulling me up and then leading me to the bedroom. I removed my shirt while Marilyn removed my pants and socks. As we moved to the king-size bed, I slipped out of my jockey shorts, revealing my erection. 

Marilyn pulled down the covers and rolled to the centre of the bed, lying on her back with her arms open in welcome to me. I needed no more encouragement. We came together in a fury of kissing and touching. We were acting as if we were two out-of-control teenagers, and perhaps we were. 

It had been some time since I made love to Molly, the last woman I was with. Now I was with the girl of my dreams and fantasies and we were locked in a frantic embrace. I wanted to slow the pace and I worked myself free of her arms, shushing her with promises of pleasure to come. She looked unhappy for a moment, but when I began to work my way down over her lovely form, I knew that unhappiness would vanish. 

I spent all my efforts making love to her. When I reached the smooth flesh of her centre, I did everything I could think of to please her. I must have been successful. I could hear her keening and felt her body stiffening as I used my tongue and lips and even teeth along with my fingers to bring her to orgasm. She was writhing in ecstasy, her voice alternating between cries of pleasure and agony. 

At last, she was begging me. "Please, Tory, please. Now ... I need you now," she cried.

I moved up over her, my arms extended and my hands beside her shoulders. 

"Guide me in, Marilyn. Take me where you want me," I whispered.

She grasped me firmly, hungry to have me inside her. I resisted as much as I could, but she was thrusting her hips upward, desperate for my cock. I pushed slowly against her opening and again, she drove her hips upward at me. Gentle was not on her agenda at that point. 

I was surprised how tight she was and how she finally surrendered to me and let me dictate my entry into her. I took it slow and steady, pushing in inch by inch, withdrawing to make sure she was lubricated and that I wasn't hurting her. Her hips were still responding, but not as aggressively as before. Gradually, I was making progress and her moans told me she was being satisfied.

When we were finally fully joined, I lay there for a while, just savoring the feeling of being inside her. I could feel Marilyn using her internal muscles and hips to create some movement, but I resisted until I was ready. I withdrew, almost completely before I pushed firmly back in. And then again. And again. And again. 

Marilyn's next orgasm was explicit and vocal. She gasped and shook and let out a cry of something between pleasure and pain. Her head was rolling back and forth, her eyes closed and then open, but unseeing. I began to move into her in a steady, deep rhythmic probing. It was a surprise to me that I hadn't orgasmed. I felt completely in control. I did not expect that at all.




Molly & Marilyn & Me Ch. 02



I could feel Marilyn coming down from her orgasmic high and I slowed my stroke and then rolled her over on top of me. We lay unmoving for a while until I could feel her practicing her Kegel exercises on me again. I smiled and we kissed and nuzzled for some time until I began to thrust slowly up into her. 

I felt her bring her knees up beside my hips and then push herself up with her hands on my chest. She began to ride me and it felt wonderful. There was no rush, no urgency as there was earlier. I watched as her beautiful big breasts bounced joyously as she rode me. It was a sight to behold and my hands did behold. She leaned down several times to kiss, and the smile on her face told me that she was enjoying every stroke.

We continued for several minutes and as yet there was no feeling that my release was imminent. I don't ever recall having a reaction like this but I certainly wasn't complaining. It was Marilyn who slowed first and then collapsed. Her arms buckled and she lay on my chest. I was still inside her and still very erect. But I didn't care. My lady was in my arms and everything was good.

"You hungry?" she asked finally.

"I could eat something," I admitted.

"Room service OK?"

"Fine."

She reached for the phone but couldn't manage it. I rolled her over twice and she laughed. She squinted at the card on the phone, picked up the receiver and punched a single button.

"Room service, this is room 1505. I want two of your best steaks, medium rare with baked potato and a Caesar Salad. Oh and a bottle of your best Bordeaux. Thanks," she said, hanging up.

"Thirty minutes. You think that gives us enough time?" she snickered.

"Nope. But ... a little food to recharge the batteries and ... we'll be off again," I replied with a smile. 

Marilyn's face became serious.

"Tory ... I can't tell you how many times I wanted this to happen. I was in love with you, you know," she said without hesitation.

"And I'm in love with you," I admitted.

"You can't be. After I ran out on you?" She was surprised, if not amazed.

"You didn't run out on me. I never told you how I felt. I never had the guts to tell you I loved you. I have from the first day I saw you in the Pickled Pumpkin."

"Why didn't you tell me," she cried, distraught.

"Marilyn ... I've never been in love before. I didn't know what it was all about. I just knew that I had strong feelings for you, but ... I didn't know how to tell you. Besides ... after Molly's blowup, I didn't dare."

"You dumb stupid ... man! Do you mean to tell me that you wanted me and I wanted you and neither of us was able to tell the other?" she asked incredulously.

I must have looked a bit shaken. "I guess so," I said tentatively.

That's when she hit me. She hit me with her fist on my chest and it hurt like hell. I looked up at her, about to get angry when I saw the tears again. This wasn't anger, it was frustration. We wasted two years of our lives because we couldn't tell each other how we felt. Great!

I held out my arms to her and she collapsed into them. She bawled and I admit I shed a few tears as well. What a pair we made. A couple of uptight adults, each wanting the same thing and unable to tell each other. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry with Marilyn. She was turning on the waterworks fairly frequently this afternoon. She kept her emotions close to the surface. That wasn't all bad, in my book.

We just lay together until the food arrived. I put on a bathrobe and Marilyn put on her kimono. I told her several times how much I liked it and how lovely she looked in it. She signed the outrageous bill and left a generous tip. She was happy. I could see it in her eyes. Those beautiful eyes. They told me everything about her. She was happy and that made me especially glad.

We ate and drank the wonderful red wine and lounged in the bed. When the dinner was cleared away and the trolley out in the hallway, Marilyn skipped back into the bedroom, throwing off her kimono in the process. Naturally, there was no further need for my bathrobe. 

There was an elephant in the room, however. What would happen tomorrow? Would she get on that flight to Chicago and go back to her frantic routine. Would this just be a few hours of pleasure and then ... nothing? Did I dare bring the subject up and possibly destroy the joy and rediscovery of today? I would have to make a decision before tomorrow morning.

We lay on the bed, just talking and kissing and fondling each other. It was so natural and yet so erotic. She wanted to know about my life and my career. She was genuinely happy for me. She reminded me that she wanted to study interior design when she was young, and she still hung on to that hope. That memory sparked an idea.

"Marilyn, what if I were to sponsor you at Michelson College. It's a two year course, but their credentials are very good. You would be well trained when you graduated. Would you be interested?"

"Tory, I don't think I could qualify. I've been out of school too long," she said, surprised.

"No ... actually, I have some pull there, but in fact, they evaluate mature students on their capabilities, not their high school grades."

"I'm a mature student?" She seemed to find that hard to accept. I suppose it was because she wasn't thirty yet. 

"Well, in terms of their definition, yes. Anyway, it's there if you want it. I think you're capable and when you graduate, there's a job for you," I said.

"A job? Where?"

"With me. I'm going out on my own. I've finally decided to take a chance and live my own life. I've been hiding behind my employer's skirts too long. The last couple of years have helped me decide to take my future in my own hands."

"Are you serious?" she said, her brow wrinkled in surprise. 

"Absolutely. We'd make a great team," I smiled.

She was silent for a while. "Is that it? A job?" she said somewhat deflated.

"Well ... no ... not exactly."

"So ... what, exactly?"

"Well ... since I'm in love with you ... and ... you're in love with me. Well ... we could get married. We'd be partners," I said carefully.

"Oh ... married." She seemed taken aback by the idea. Then she smiled. Then she kissed me.

"And we'd live happily every after?"

"Yeah ... that's the idea," I grinned.

She looked at me carefully. I wondered what was going through her mind. Did she doubt my love? Did she doubt her love for me? I couldn't tell.

"Let's talk about it tomorrow. Tonight ... I just want to forget everything and make love. OK?" she asked uncertainly.

I sighed. No answer. No commitment. "OK," I managed finally. I would take whatever she would give me and be grateful afterwards.

I had never indulged myself in a night like the one Marilyn spent with me in Seattle. I don't know how much we slept, but it was very little. I was determined to please her in every possible way and make it impossible for her to leave. In my imagination, she would phone her boss and quit her job in the morning and we would race off home to live that dream life I'd always hoped for.

When I awoke that Sunday morning, I knew it wouldn't happen. Marilyn was already up and packing her suitcase. She was showered and dressed and I saw a bottle of orange juice and an energy bar wrapper on the dresser. When she saw that I had awoken, she turned to me. There was no good morning smile. I had a hunch why.

"Will you drive me to the airport, please Tory?" she asked.

"So, I take it that from our conversation last night ... the answer is no?" I asked, hoping I was wrong. 

"I have a lot of commitments, Tory. I can't just up and leave. I have responsibilities, just like you. Surely you can understand that," she said in a level, no-nonsense voice.

"I understand I love you. I remember you telling me you loved me. What else is there to understand," I said, feeling a slow burn begin to develop.

"It will have to wait. I have to finish what I started. It won't change the way I feel about you," she said in a conciliatory tone, coming to the bedside to sit and hold my face in her hands. She leaned forward and kissed me gently.

I looked at her and sighed. 

"When did you start using the pills?" I asked.

"What pills?" she jumped.

"The diet pills I saw on the counter in the bathroom."

"Oh ... a while ago."

"Do you know what's in them?"

"No ... not really. I use them to keep from gaining weight. I need them with my schedule," she tried.

"I'll tell you what's in them. Phentermine. That's a clone of amphetamine. It used to be called speed, and it's illegal without a prescription. What doctor prescribed these for you?" I demanded.

"I don't have a doctor. I get them from my company. I just have to ask for them," she said, beginning to show signs of anger.

"Great ... your employer is an illegal drug pusher. Just great," I spat.

"Look ... I don't expect you to understand. You live in your nice little world and work at your nice little pace. Well I don't. Try to get that through your head," she snapped.

"Don't you give a damn about your health? Those things will eat at your liver and kidneys. Is that your reward for all your hard work?" I was almost yelling now. I couldn't be more frustrated with her.

"It's my business, not yours," she flamed as she pushed her self up. She grabbed the handle of her rollaway and then her purse. "Don't bother taking me to the airport. I'll get the shuttle," she fumed, stomping toward the door.

"Marilyn!"

She stopped, holding the door and turned to look at me. It was a look of sadness, not anger. She knew what this meant.

"Goodbye, Tory."

The door closed quietly behind her. I rolled over on the bed and pounded my fist into the mattress a half dozen times. How could everything turn to shit like this? Last night was paradise and now ... hell. 

End of Chapter 2

My thanks as always to ErikThread for his editing skills and his helpful suggestions.

Any errors or omissions are mine alone.



Molly & Marilyn & Me Ch. 03



"I'm sorry to tell you this, but Marilyn is using diet pills to maintain her weight. They contain a dangerous substance that could harm her. They also have nasty side effects. I've warned her and told her of the consequences, but she seems to be dependent upon them."

"Oh, no! Are they addictive?" Margaret asked with a frightened look.

"No ... I don't think so. However, she is so obsessed with her weight that she depends on them when she can't eat properly or get regular exercise. When I was with her in Seattle, she ate a big steak dinner with baked potato and a big salad. She ate everything. She ate as if she hadn't eaten in a week. Maybe she hadn't," I frowned.

"Where is she getting these pills?" Walter asked.

"Her employer is giving them to her. That's illegal, as I understand it. But it's happening. I wish I knew what to do about it," I groaned.

"I'll leave a message for her tonight," Walter said quietly.

"She may be home tonight," I said. "She said something about being home for a day before leaving again. It's about ten o'clock in Chicago. Do you want to try?" I asked.

"Yes, let's try right now," Margaret said, moving quickly to the phone. 

She punched in the numbers and I waited as the phone rang. Inevitably, it went to voice mail. I could see the look of frustration on her face.

"Marilyn, it's your mother. Please call us. Your father and I are quite worried. We haven't spoken to you in a long time. Please call." She hung up the phone and turned to me.

"Let's see what happens. We'll call you when we've talked to her," she promised.

"Thank you. You've been so supportive. I feel like I'm one of the family ... even though ... I wish it were under better circumstances. If ... when you talk to Marilyn, please give her my love."

They walked me to the door and I left, feeling no better than before. I had not made Marilyn's parents feel any better. In fact, now that they knew my concerns, they were quite upset, and that was my doing. I wondered if I hadn't made a bad situation worse.

Walter Lee called me on Friday evening. They had heard from Marilyn.

"She called this afternoon. She wasn't home ... I think she said she was in San Antonio. She apologized for not calling more often but gave us the usual excuse ... always on the go ... very busy. I'm afraid her mother wasn't very charitable toward her. She suggested she was more interested in her career than her family and that it didn't take that much out of her schedule to make a ten minute phone call. She didn't react very well, telling us that we didn't understand and shouldn't be so demanding.

"I asked her about the pills and she got very upset. She swore and I've never heard her do that ... ever. She guessed you told us and she was extremely angry and said it was none of our business. It was her life and she was going to live it her way. Then she hung up. She didn't even say goodbye. Margaret was in tears and I felt terrible. We'd never had an argument like that with her before ... ever!"

"I'm very sorry, Walter. I didn't want that to happen. I should never have said anything about the pills," I said regretfully.

"No ... no ... you did the right thing. I would have been much more upset if you hadn't. I wanted her to know we knew and that we didn't approve. For all the good it will do, she can't say we didn't tell her how we felt. I just hope she thinks about what she is doing to herself before ... before it's too late."

"I do too, Walter. Please give my best to Margaret. We'll keep our fingers crossed and see what happens. Maybe she'll be embarrassed about what she said to you and call to apologize. I hope so. Thank you for calling. Please stay in touch."

"You too, Tory. I wish there were better news, but ... well ... as you say, we'll keep our fingers crossed.

I hung up the phone. Things were getting worse. I couldn't imagine Marilyn swearing at her parents, much less hanging up on them. That wasn't the real Marilyn, I knew that for sure. What could I do to help restore the woman I loved? I couldn't think of a thing.

-0-

I continued my preparations for starting my business. I went to the printers for letterhead and envelopes, as well as business cards. When I looked at the proofs before printing, I wondered if I had made a mistake. Was I dreaming? I chose the name Maritor Designs. Guess where that came from? Wishful thinking? I suppose so. At least it was a unique and memorable name.

I would be working out of my house, but my cell phone would be my business phone. I already had a high-speed connection to the internet, so there was little to do but set up an e-mail address and created a website. I thought about creating my own website from the many templates available, but decided I wanted something specific to the business. I contacted a local web developer and he was able to give me exactly what I wanted at a very reasonable price.

Christmas and New Years came and went in a flash. I was on my own. I informed all my current and former customers of my move as well as the architectural and engineering firms I was in contact with. I made sure to acknowledge Redekop Lumber as my principal source for materials. There was some business lined up, ready to go in January, so I was off and running. I felt pretty good about my prospects. 

I gave up on my afternoon pint at the pub. There just wasn't time for it. However, come hell or high water, I wasn't sacrificing my Saturday lunch. It was virtually my only recreation some weeks. 

By early February, I was getting settled in. There was enough new business to provide me with an adequate income and I could see some nice opportunities on the horizon in the form of larger projects from my contacts in the architectural community. I was feeling good about my decision and Jerry wasn't suffering from any loss of business either.

I was sitting at my usual table in the Pickled Pumpkin that weekend, enjoying a nice steamed, smoked-meat sandwich on rye with hot mustard, a big dill pickle, and a side of coleslaw. Of course, my trusty pint of dark ale was handy. I stopped watching the hockey game when the period ended and my nose was down in the sandwich when I became aware of someone standing in front of my table. I looked up and I nearly choked on my food.

I didn't know whether I was hallucinating or not, but I could swear, standing in front of me, was an identical twin of Marilyn Lee. This Marilyn had fresh, bright cheeks, clear eyes and a nice, small smile.

"Hi Tory. May I sit down?" she asked quietly.

Now, my mother always told me never to talk with my mouth full and I've lived with that admonition all these years. I just stared at her. At last, I stood and gestured to the open chair, still chewing on the last of the sandwich. I plopped back down in my seat, without taking my eyes off her for one second. 

"Hi," I finally managed. I sat and stared at her. I was completely unprepared with no idea what to say. Oh, there was plenty to say all right ... but what?

"I'm glad I found you. I called your house, but when you didn't answer, I thought you might be here," she said. She was being very cautious with me. She was clearly uncertain how I would react.

"Yeah. It's Saturday," I said brilliantly.

"You're surprised to see me," she concluded in a moment of gross understatement.

"Yeah. More like stunned. I thought ... I mean ... I was sure ... you'd never ...," I finally managed, still sounding like the village idiot. 

She was shaking her head and there was a rueful look on her face. 

"I'm home. I'm not going back to Chicago. I quit my job. I sold my apartment. I retired from that craziness," she said directly. 

"You did? Why?"

She breathed a big sigh. 

"You were right. I was hurting myself. I didn't want to admit it, but the pills and the long hours and the poor eating habits, they were all catching up to me. I knew I couldn't keep it up much longer.

"When I talked to Mom and Dad and I blew up at them, I knew I was losing it. I felt like hell after that. I couldn't bring myself to call them back. I knew they were right, but I couldn't face admitting it. I needed to look after it myself," she said sadly.

"What did you do?" I was surprised, hoping this was all true.

"Like I said, I knew the pills were part of the problem, so I threw them away. That was step one. Then I went back to your sheet for diet and exercise when travelling. I couldn't follow it completely, but I started eating more regularly. I was packing food with me on the road. I was sleeping better too. I think the pills were keeping me awake."

"Damn right they were. That's what amphetamines do. They're 'uppers,'" I snapped.

She shook her head. "It took me a while to figure it all out, Tory. I guess I didn't want to hear what I didn't want to hear. The job owned me ... not the other way around. I lost control of my life. When I started to make changes, I got some of that control back."

"Not a moment too soon by the sound of it," I said with some force.

"You still sound pretty angry with me." 

"Yeah ... I guess I am. I couldn't believe what you were doing to yourself. You weren't the Marilyn I knew and fell in love with. I didn't know you. Even that night in Seattle. That was wonderful and I loved every second I was with you, but it wasn't the real you, was it?"

"I know. I woke up that morning and ... and ... it was like it never happened. I was going back to where I was and I didn't even know why. I never understood that I didn't have to do any of it. If I stayed with you, they would replace me in a heartbeat and no one would notice. God, I wish I had stayed. I've ruined everything, haven't I?" she sniffed as she began to break down.

I reached across the table for her hands and held them tightly.

"Are you truly back? Is the crazy life of Marilyn Lee over with?" I demanded.

"Yes. It's over and I'm glad." The tears trickled slowly down her cheeks. 

I could feel something in my gut that told me there was new life here. Another chance? She seemed sincere. Was I willing to try one more time?

"When did you get in?" I asked quietly.

"A couple of hours ago. I dropped my bags off at my parents and then came looking for you."

"Have you made amends with your mom and dad?"

She nodded. "I hurt them, I know. I apologized and told them what I've been telling you. I know they're just relieved and happy to have me home." 

"Maybe you should be with them, Marilyn. I can wait," I said, not meaning a word of it.

"No ... Mom said I should find you and grab you and not let you get away," she laughed through her tears. "I think Dad was offering to hold me for you."

"I love your parents. I hope you do too," I smiled.

She nodded. 

"So what comes next?" I asked, wondering exactly that.

"Whatever you want, Tory. I just want to be with you. I've made some terrible decisions, and I've hurt the people I love most. I need to make it up to them. I hope I can," she said with a tearful, wrinkled smile.

"I want to believe you, Marilyn. I want to believe you more than anything I can think of. But ... I guess I'm a bit gun-shy. After that Sunday morning in Seattle ... I can't handle another one of those," I said quietly.

"I will never do that to you again, Tory. I hated myself afterwards. I spent that whole flight to Chicago angry with myself for treating you that way. I don't know how to say it except that I'm sorry and I will never do anything like that again. Not to you ... not to anyone." She was unequivocal in her pledge.

I sat back in my chair, desperately wanting to trust her. No matter what she promised, it would be up to me to decide. Was I willing to take the risk? What would I gain if she was sincere, and what would I lose if it was another empty promise?

The silence between us was deafening. I was staring at her and she was returning my gaze with unflinching steadiness. I would have to take a chance. It was the only possible way for me to win.

"I can't think of a better way to spend a Saturday afternoon than with you," I murmured finally.

I heard her breath escape as I announced my choice. She was rising from her chair with a look of confusion mixed with excitement. I think I was smiling. At least, I hope I was.

I stood, dropped a twenty on the table, took Marilyn's hand and led her out of the pub. As we exited the door, I turned to her, gathered her in my arms and kissed her with all the suppressed emotions I was carrying around in me. I got very nice response from one very beautiful lady. I guess we gave the patrons on that side of the pub quite a show, but neither of us cared. 

I held the car door for her and she slipped in. We drove toward my home. I didn't rush. The last thing I wanted to do was rush. I was desperately trying to get a grip on my emotions. I was excited and yet, still wary. I found myself looking over at her frequently, trying to read her expression. All I could see was the smile. It wasn't faint, it was pronounced. I began to feel more confident.

In a moment of cheekiness, I pulled out my cell and asked Marilyn for her parent's home number.

"Walter, its Tory Payne. I have your daughter with me. I've been thinking of holding her hostage until she completes her apology for her naughty behavior." I looked over at Marilyn and flashed a big fake grin. 

"Oh ... well Tory ... I expected that. Would you like to drop by the house and pick up her clothes? It might take her a while to get through that apology."

"That's an excellent suggestion, sir. We will be there shortly," I laughed, signing off.

"Your father is now an accomplice in my hostage taking," I smirked with a raised eyebrow.

"God it's good to see you laugh, Tory. I've missed that. I've missed you. I've missed so much." She looked out the window with downcast eyes.

"Well, we have lots of time to fix all that." I was beginning to believe that I was close to gaining what I always wanted. I hoped and prayed it wouldn't be snatched away again.

We arrived at the Lee home and they were waiting at the entrance with the door open. 

"Hi ... I'm back. I need some clothes for my imprisonment," she giggled.

"Hold it ... I didn't say anything about prison. It's merely protective custody with a price tag. You have to do penance for your misbehavior." We were having a bit of fun and I could see the relieved looks on the faces of Margaret and Walter. It was good to be able to smile about their daughter again. It was even better that they trusted me and knew I would look after her.

I grabbed her roll-away and carry-on as she hugged her parents. Big smiles all around. 

"See you tomorrow," Marilyn said. "Tory told me I could have a day off for good behavior," she grinned.

"I won't ask what good behavior entails," her father said. Her mother was smiling, despite the odd tear.

We hurried down the walk, put the bags in my trunk and left for home. 

We needed to put some old ghosts to rest, and there was a nervousness about it that wasn't present before. I was still harboring doubt about whether this was real or another prelude to disappointment. To me, Marilyn was still a mystery.

That background of caution and my insecure anxieties didn't help us at all. I fumbled with her clothing and my own as well. I was visibly trembling as we embraced in our nakedness. She noticed it, of course.

"What's the matter, Tory? You're shaking like a leaf," she said with a worried look.

"I'm still trying to convince myself that ... that ... this time ... this time it's real. This time you won't disappear on me. This time, you mean what you say ... about us," I stuttered.

Marilyn buried her head in my shoulder. I could feel her tears as they trickled down my chest, one by one.

"Oh Tory. I didn't mean to hurt you this much. I never meant to hurt you at all. I love you. I want you. I came back for you. Please believe me," she pleaded between sobs.

I let go my breath. I closed my eyes and prayed that it was all true. Every word of it. I could only hope. I pulled her closely to me and held her as I calmed myself. 

"Do you really love me, Marilyn? Is it true? Please be sure before you answer," I begged.

"Yes, Tory. I'm sure. I let things get in the way of it, but I'm sure. What I also know is that you love me. I can't hope for more than that, can I?" she said quietly.

The difference between our love-making that afternoon in my bed and the hotel in Seattle was palpable. There wasn't any sense of urgency and we took our time. But more than that, I felt secure. I was no longer dreading the morning and wondering if Marilyn would be up, packing her bag and leaving. I expected that she would be there.

She was. She was there, sleeping, snoring softly, her face almost buried in my shoulder, her arm across my body. I can't describe either the feelings that simple sight, sound and scent evoked in me. I knew then. I knew for certain. I knew we were together. 

As I lay in bed, I was gazing at the photograph I had framed and mounted on my bedroom wall. It was Marilyn in profile from the photos that were taken at the Pumpkin that afternoon. No professional photographer could have captured the real Marilyn Lee any better than that perfect image. I turned toward her and there she was, in flesh and blood. I touched her cheek just to be sure. There would be no vanishing this time.

We spent most of the rest of that day in bed. It was time to get to know each other all over again. Just as importantly, it was time to kill the demons and unspoken fears we shared. We did that a bit at a time.

"Tory, I need to tell you some things. Some things about me when I was ... away," she said quietly as we lay together.

"I was with other men. Not a lot ... but some. It wasn't anything serious except ... trying to stop the loneliness. I'm ashamed of it, but ... I needed them ... someone. You weren't there and I needed someone," she moaned.

"I know. I understand. But that's in the past. Don't feel guilty about it. I had a couple of dates too," I said softly.

"Did you sleep with them?"

No ... I didn't. I couldn't. I kept seeing you. But you know about Molly, don't you?"

"Yes, she told me. She said she took advantage of you. She apologized to me." There didn't seem to be any residual upset.

"So it's different then, isn't it?" she continued. "It makes what I did so ... dirty."

"No, Marilyn. No. You were among strangers. There was no one to turn to. I understand, trust me. I understand." 

"Did you ever think this would happen?" she asked, turning to me. "I mean us ... together again?"

"I kept hoping and I kept wondering how. It looked pretty grim there for a while."

"I'm sorry, Tory. I never meant to hurt you. Honest."

"I know. I think you got caught up in something you didn't understand and ... those pills ... they had something to do with it too," I suggested.

"Maybe. That day ... that day I talked to my parents and I yelled and swore at them. I couldn't believe I did that. I was sick to my stomach afterwards. That's when I made my decision. I threw the pills in the garbage."

"A smart decision. But that was November. What's been happening since?"

"I started paying attention to my diet. I weighed my self every day anyway. I was obsessed with my weight. I lost fifteen pounds from our last day with you. I thought I was helping myself. I started to eat properly again. Inside a month, I gained ten pounds back and I was sure I was going to get fired.

"A funny thing happened, though. I started getting people telling me how much better I looked. When I looked in the mirror, I could see and feel the difference. I think that's what gave me the courage. In December, I told them I wouldn't be back in the New Year. I was quitting. They didn't seem to even notice. I was just a ... piece of meat. They could replace me anytime," she said angrily.




Molly & Marilyn & Me Ch. 03



"Yeah ... I can see how that would hurt," I said. 

"Talk about a shot to the ego. Anyway, I knew it was over. I put my condo up for sale and sold it for the first decent offer I got. I made a ridiculous amount of money in less than three years. And that's when I knew I wanted to come home. There was nowhere else to go, but there was nowhere else I wanted to be," she said thoughtfully.

"I'm glad you did. Very glad," I whispered, kissing her cheeks and forehead.

"Me too. But ... I wasn't so sure at the time. I thought maybe I burned all my bridges with my parents and you. I was scared, Tory. I thought maybe I could make it right with Mom and Dad, but I was sure I had lost you."

"Close. I wasn't sure I could believe you when you suddenly appeared in front of me yesterday," I admitted.

"I know. I could hear it in your voice. I was so scared."

"Well, it looks like we got over that hurdle, girl. Are you still scared?"

"No," she smiled, nuzzling even further into my neck. "Not any more. You made that all go away."

"Good. So, what do you say we phone your folks and make our visit with them and then we can come back her for some more ... punishment?"

We made that phone call and were immediately invited for dinner. There was no way we could decline. 

Molly's mother was a great cook and she made us a wonderful beef stroganoff that we demolished, despite the fact there was enough for six people. At the risk of creating an awkward moment, I broached what I thought was an important question to Margaret.

"Can Marilyn cook as well as you?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

Margaret smiled and looked at her daughter, who was now blushing vividly. 

"She used to be able to. Perhaps I can get her back up to speed with a refresher course," she suggested with a wink.

"I think that's a very good idea. Part of her re-training program," I laughed.

"You guys are picking on me," Marilyn groaned.

"All part of your penance, my dear," her father chimed in.

It was that kind of evening. You could feel the tension lift and the familiarity of the past return. It was just another thing that told me we were going to be OK.

On Valentines Day, there was a special gift for Marilyn. I picked it out earlier in the week and it was to be ready Saturday morning. I made an excuse to get out of the house early that day. One dozen roses, a nice card and my special gift were all picked up and carefully stowed away for the next morning. 

On Sunday, I made Marilyn breakfast in bed. I gave her the card and the roses, which were already in a vase. We shared the breakfast, just as I planned, and when we were finished, I put the tray on the floor, reached into the pocket of my dressing gown, and produced a small, velvet-covered box.

"Marilyn. I can't tell you how happy I am that we're back together. We've gone through a lot to get here, but now ... now it all seems worthwhile. I'm sure and I know now that you're sure. I love you Marilyn. I want to marry you. Will you ...?" 

I choked up and couldn't finish that simple question. I opened the box and with a shaking hand, took the engagement ring out. There were tears in her eyes as she nodded, holding out her right hand. I slipped it on and it fit perfectly. Neither of us said a word. She leaped at me, wrapping her arms around me, her body wracked with sobs. For once, I wasn't worried. I knew what these tears were all about.

Molly and Grant came to our wedding, of course. My mother was there as well, having travelled from her home in Arizona. My father passed away when I was young, and I'm sorry he couldn't have been there to see the beautiful woman his son chose for his bride. Naturally, Jerry was my best man. I think he was convinced he was responsible for Marilyn and me getting back together. I never did quite work out his logic.

I introduced Mom to Margaret and Walter Lee and they got along very well. I had become very close to Marilyn's parents in the last few months. I was pleased that they were nearby, and even more pleased that they thought of me as their son.

We married in June, even though it wasn't the ideal time for my new business. Nonetheless, we snuck away for a two week honeymoon. We chose the Oregon coast and we looked forward to being pampered at the Inn at Otter Rock. My bride was used to being pampered in her previous life, but never with me along, and never with this much time for just ourselves. 

There was a picture I wanted that was long overdue. Grant looked after it, using both his camera and mine. On my left arm was Marilyn, my bride. On my right arm was Molly, a very pregnant Molly I might add. I wanted to remember how all this started. We were in the Pickled Pumpkin of course. It was the only logical place to take this picture. It's where it all started. 

Marilyn works with me now. She loved the name Maritor Designs and she's now taking classes at Michelson College. She's already a great help to me. Her woman's touch and a good eye for interior design are going to make us a very successful team. Even having kids won't interfere. It's all part of our master plan. 

Things don't always turn out the way you expect them to. That's for sure.

The End

Again, my thanks to ErikThread for his editing skills, suggestions, and encouragement. 

Any errors or omissions are mine alone.