Chapter 11
The time was late evening and the place was the bathroom of a motel unit, and Max Flagg was automatically going through the routine of washing, brushing his teeth, and pulling on his pajamas.
It had been a quiet week. They had visited some of Doris' relatives and had pressed on westward until now they were near Denver. During this time, a kind of respectful silence had sprung up between them. They conversed pleasantly, like strangers cast together by chance on the same trip, they were courteous, they were casual. They didn't speak of the past and said little of the future.
Sometimes Max wondered why Doris had chosen to stay with him. All she had said was, "Well try it together for a while and see how it turns out." It portended a bleak future, and he wondered why she was ready to settle for it. For that matter, he wondered why he was.
He didn't even have any great regret over giving Leslie up. Life could have been great with her, he knew
-a wonderful life. And yet the idea of actually leaving Doris, of never seeing her again, of never hearing from her, of living a completely separate life, quite aside from the question of whether or not he still had any love for her, actually leaving her would be a little like cutting off one of his arms.
He went into the bedroom. Doris was lying in one of the twin beds. Her lamp was on and she was propped up on an elbow, reading a magazine. Her sheet was pulled up over her hips and above that she was covered only by the short, transparent black silk nightie she had worn once before, when the night had turned out so badly.
Even lying half-covered and with her back to him she was a beautiful sight, a concoction of rolling curves that had been made for love, or should have been. Max wondered if there were any significance to her suggestive apparel. Could she actually be hinting that they should attempt to make love? In view of the cool climate of their present emotional relationship, that seemed un-likely.
But should he make sure? Should he make a tentative try? Test her? He measured his reaction to the sight of her and found no physical desire-he hadn't had any for a week.
He moved to the edge of his own bed. his back toward Doris, and sat down. No, there would be no futile attempt at love making tonight. For all he knew
-or cared, at present-there would be none ever again. Oh, he supposed that had to come eventually, but he was more than willing to postpone that indefinitely.
He pulled down the sheet, rolled under it, and lay back on his pillow. Doris's light wouldn't bother him, and soon he would be asleep.
"Good night," he said.
"Good night, dear."
After a moment he heard the rustle of magazine pages and the swishing sound of a sheet. Then Doris came around the foot of her bed and toward him. She was wearing her wispy black panties, he noted. Long-legged, willowy, her breasts full and high, she was a sight to raise the temperature of any man who didn't know her as well as Max did.
She sat down on the side of his bed and faced him, smiling in her shy, tentative way. "I thought I'd kiss you good night. We haven't kissed good night lately."
He managed a smile in return, and she leaned down to kiss him lightly.
"We've been pretty distant this last week, Max," she said afterwards. "I think both of us wanted it that way. We needed time, time to let the past die. Don't you think so?"
"Yes."
"And a week isn't very long for that. But if it takes much longer, I'd like to do something to help kill the past."
"I don't know what to do, Doris." Did she think that a return to the old bedtime frustrations was going to help? Max didn't yet feel up to coping with that, and he hoped she would soon return to her own bed.
But instead, she leaned down to kiss him again, a little harder this time, and then her tongue came out to flicker lightly over his lips. She pushed his head to one side and her tongue went to his ear. As she touched it, he felt his desire stirring in spite of himself.
Perhaps she sensed his attitude, because she chided him gently, "Max, don't be afraid of me."
"I'm not afraid of you, Doris-"
"Good. You don't have to be afraid of any woman." With that, she kissed him again, probing his teeth quickly, and with one hand she unbuttoned his pajama top.
The moment he had hoped to put off had come, then. She wanted to make another attempt. He could deny her, send her back to her bed. but it seemed cruel. Besides, he had left it up to her if they were to stay together. He hadn't actually been forced to remain with her. and she would probably have let him go if he had insisted upon it. Since he was here and since he was her husband, he had certain responsibilities, like it or not.
She opened his pajama top and felt his chest. "You have a lovely body, darling. I love your chest." She pulled off the silk that hung from her shoulders and said, "Do I have a lovely body?"
"The loveliests."
"What do you like about it?"
Rather than answering, he pulled her toward him and kissed her.
"That's more like it," she said, rubbing her soft, pillowy bosom over him. "But what about my body?
Do yon like my breasts?"
"Beautiful breasts, like to kiss them, bite them . ."
"Play with my breasts, darling. Play with them like you used to. Make them ring like bells."
Then she was lying beside him but on top of the sheet, and his lust had returned. He molded her breasts, pinched them, teased and tortured them. The past was vanishing from his mind as he devoted his attention to the desirable woman beside him. She had begun to pant with need, and he wanted her as much as she wanted him.
As he clung to her, she moved an arm down under the sheet and touched his pajamas. "You do still want me, don't you?" she said. "I was so afraid you wouldn't want me!"
"Of course I want you. You've been the most desirable woman in the world for me from the moment I first saw you."
"And what are you going to do about that, darling?"
"Take that silly bit of wrapping off. Take off these damned pajamas...." While his caresses went over her body, he told her in some detail what he planned to do. ""Oh. do, Max. Do that!"
He got out of the bed. There was no hurry now. He took his time in discarding his paiamas and in walking over to where he could look over her seductive length. She smiled at him and reached to touch him.
"Yes, you do want me," she said.
Something in her manner puzzled him. He missed the feeling of worry, of desperation she had always injected into their loving in the past. She didn't seem to have the final outcome in mind at all, and that had always been her primary consideration Now she gave the appearance of simply enjoying the moment.
He pulled her to her feet and said, "Let's dance."
She laughed. "Now. darling?"
"Yes. now" And bending his knees, he pressed against her They swayed sideways, and slowly he went to his knees tasting her body as he went. He caught the black material at her hips and peeled it down. She struggled to get away from him but he didn't release her until her knees buckled and she collapsed on the floor.
He pulled her panties the rest of the way off. picked her up. and placed her on his bed. They were as ready as they would ever be, he knew. Yet he was reluctant to go further Fear kept returning in spite of desire.
Again she read his mind, or saw the look in his eyes, because she said, "Don't worry about me, darling. Make this good for you. That's all I'm concerned with now. Make yourself feel wonderful."
He felt complelled to explain. "But, Doris, a man wants his woman to enjoy things too-"
"Don't! Don't talk. I'm here. I'm ready and I love you, darling...." She rose on one elbow and held him. Then her eyes dimmed, her mouth opened, and she swayed forward to kiss him. a long, dangerous kiss.
Now he couldn't wait any longer. He pulled away from her and she fell back on the bed. In a few seconds of exquisite pleasure, he took her.
"Am I being good to you?" Doris whispered.
"Wonderful."
"And you're being good to me. You're giving me what I want."
So he began to work and she worked with him. They took things slowly at first, but nerves had already been brought to a fiery pitch and now they quickly turned to white flames.
"Oh. that's good." she said, and again Max was bewildered. Where was the old sense of struggle which had always been so painful before?
"Max, do you feel good?" she asked.
"You're making me feel good." he said, "and I love you."
They ceased talking. Max gave himself to sensation. All he knew was that Doris was more marvelous than she had ever been before. The last of his worry disappeared, and he knew only that he was loving his wife. He gave her all he had.
And then she was laughing. Her arms had released him and were limp at her sides, but she was working completely out of control.
And he knew that she had finished. She wasn't faking, she was really there.
So was he. He was finishing with her.
After they had taken a shower together, they decided it was her bed's turn. They propped themselves up on pillows and clung together, resting. He played gently with her nipples and, with something like admiration and wifely pride, she stroked his chest.
"Didn't think I could, did you?" she asked with a grin.
"It doesn't matter. You did."
"Do you know how I learned?"
Max had a pretty good idea who had taught her, and he didn't care to hear anything about that. He didn't answer.
But Doris went on. "I figure out that I had to relax. That I had to quit trying so hard. Poor Maxie was doing his part as far as any man could-I had to learn the rest. Like any other woman."
Max sighed and smiled. She was trying to tell him that it wasn't Jack who had done this for her, not really. Well, true or not, he would accept that.
Anyway, he didn't have time to think. He was coming back to life at her touch, and there was a gleam in her eye. He put a hand to her hip and felt it tremble. Her arm muscles twitched and she licked her lips.
"All right, lover," she said, "do right by me."
The honeymoon had at last begun.