Wanting to, but, really, “I took a pill and I’m so tired, and I just want to go to sleep.”
“Sure, baby, I know.” Moving his body back, stuffing his penis back through the fly of his pajamas and between his thighs, reaching above the headboard, turning the light off, “Good-night, baby. I love you.”
“I love you, Mitchie.”
In the eyes of the law, and…
In the eyes of God…
On this night Marsha and Mitchell slept in each other’s arms.
And so began…
The First Day of Their Lives: Meeting Each Other
December 18, 1955: 8:43 a.m.
Shining through, a bright beam of light shone between the slightly parted drapes.
Sleeping with his arm over Marsha’s shoulder, cuddled against her back with his face in her sweet smelling hair…
Mitchell Lipensky had a rock-hard erection that, once again, this time by its own volition, had oh-so-conveniently poked through the fly of his pajamas. Instinctively snuggling even closer, it pushed oh-so-comfortably between the backs of her flannel-covered thighs.
The ray of light brushed against his eyelids and, partially awake, remaining in this comfortably erotic semi-sleep, breathing the odor of Marsha’s hair, he felt the warmth of her body and the oh-so-nice heat that surrounded his penis.
The physical part of his erection was caused by a very full bladder. The other part, the mental part, by the fact that it was parked within Marsha’s crotch.
But, though he assumed she was wearing a tampon, he was not aware that what he felt against his penis was the bulk of a Super Kotex… Which, quite possibly, may have been the reason Marsha did not feel it.
Awake now, reluctant to move because, If I move, he thought, she may move, too. And he was so comfortable, and so… God, he thought, I want to do it so bad! But because of her period he knew she wouldn’t and he won’t, and he thought of Chriss’ other way to skin a cat, but, alas, he knew that Marsha would never go for that, and he did not want to wake her, but he did, oh, yeah, have to urinate, so, carefully, pulling it from between her thighs, he went into the bathroom…
After, Mitchell brushed his teeth and washed his face.
Coming from the bathroom, seeing that she hadn’t changed positions, about to get back into bed, he had, Sure, why not? an urge to lie next to her completely nude… Removing his pajamas, carefully, so as not to wake her, he crawled under the blanket and once again, oh, so carefully, ensconced his—now it was all mental—erect penis within the back of her thighs…. The rhythm of her breathing not changed, after a few minutes, reaching across her arm… Oh, God! So soft! So warm! So nice! Mitchell held a breast, over her pajamas.
Having taken two pain pills before going to sleep, still Marsha didn’t move.
Cuddling even closer, Yeah, sure, why not? slowly, carefully, unbuttoning a button, his hand, inching through, Mitchell held, Oh, God! So warm! So soft! So nice! But…
Not accustomed to sleeping with anyone, awakening disoriented, Marsha felt the warm weight of a body against her body, and an arm across her arm, and especially the fondling touch of a hand on her bare breast caused an involuntary reaction, and, turning quickly, bringing her elbow around, it crashed into Mitchell’s skull, which…
“Shit!” caused an involuntary exclamation.
“Mitch? Mitchie?” Awake now, realizing what she’d done, “Oh, baby, I’m sorry! I didn’t know it was you! You okay?”
Her elbow actually glancing off his forehead, lying on his back, holding his nose, “Oh, doo, id’s okay.”
“Mitchie,” getting onto her hands and knees, leaning over him, “I’m sorry! Did I hurt you?”
“Oh, doo,” Hanging freely, he easily saw Marsha’s dangling breasts beneath the top of her pajamas and, God! they looked so nice! “I always sped the first day of by odeymoon gedding hid in da dose.”
Kissing his forehead, “Are you really hurt?”
Slipping his arms around her back, rotating onto his stomach, laughing, pinning her beneath his chest, “No! Luckily you got me on the head… God, all I did was touch your boob and you clobbered me.”
Relieved to see she hadn’t hurt him, “Well, you scared me,” she pouted. “I’m not used to having some big, hairy guy grabbing a’hold of one of my boobies while I’m asleep.”
“A big, hairy guy? Me?” He attempted to kiss her, but…
“Mitchie,” turning her head, “I haven’t brushed my teeth yet.”
“Okay.” So instead, nuzzling her breasts, “Oh, God,” unbuttoning the buttons, “Marcie, you’re so beautiful!” He looked at the dream of Marsha’s… his wife’s sleep-creased breasts.
Marsha was aware that he wasn’t wearing pajama tops but, “Mitchie,” her arms about him, her hands on his buttocks, “where are your bottoms?”
“Right there, sweetie,” Kissing a dusky-pink nipple, “you’re holding ’em.” that even then, exciting him even further, was beginning to change in color and definition.
Sensing the level of her own excitement increasing, never having seen Mitchell—or for that matter any other male fully nude—oh, yes, she’d seen his penis through the fly of his pants at the planetarium, but later that night, when they had slept together, it had been too dark to see anything. And, oh, yeah, curious, too, pushing against him, but not having to push too hard, forcing him onto his back, throwing the blanket off, Marsha saw, for the very first time, the wholly nude body of a man, of her husband, and she felt a rising heat. Surprising herself, Marsha realized the heat was not from embarrassment, as, watching its course, she slowly, lightly traced the tip of a finger over his lips, down, through the hair of his chest, around a copper-colored nipple—where she, too, wondered at the tightening effect—then the other nipple, and down, into his navel, through—feeling her heart race—the dark tangle of his pubic hair. Teasing him, and herself… Oh, God! she thought as, tightening her hand, she held the, oh, so warm, so soft hardness of God’s miracle of human engineering.
Watching the downward movement of her finger, watching, Oh, God, feeling her hand tighten about him, the feel of her hand hardening him even further, “Baby,” he said huskily, putting a hand behind her neck, pulling her face to his, “take yours off, too, baby. “I want to see you naked, too. And, if you’d like, there’s other ways to do things.”
Things? Realizing, at least thinking she knew what he meant by “other ways to do things.” “Oh, baby,” kissing him, “I’d like to, really, I’d like to, but no!” Well aware of what she would like to do, Marsha knew that, for her, there was nothing either of them could do about what she knew they both, so badly, wanted to do. Also, she did not want Mitchell to see a bloody, gloppy Kotex pad. “Maybe soon,” she said, “but not now.”
Not wanting to give in, “Why not now?” Thinking of Chriss’ little piece of dangling string, “What’s so terrible now, that’s going to change tomorrow?”
“I didn’t say tomorrow. But so you know, I bleed real hard the first couple of days, and have to wear a pad.”
“Women’s stuff” still far above him, “Pad?”
“I thought you knew, Mitchie. I use a Kotex the first few days, then switch to tampons. Right now it would be too embarrassing, and as soon as I can I will get all undressed for you. So please baby, have a little more patience.” Not waiting for a reply, bounding from the bed, she went into the bathroom.
…“Mitchie,” she called through the closed door.
At the other sink, shaving, “Yeah, Marcie?”
Flushing the toilet, “What time is it?”
“Looking at his watch, “Nine thirty-five.”
“What time are we supposed to be in Skokie?”
“Whenever we get there. We’re supposed to call your folks when we’re about ready to leave here, and your mom’ll call mine and they’ll meet us there.”
“I’ll be ready in about twenty minutes. You want to call there?”
“Yeah, sure. As soon as I’m done shaving.”
Washing her face, “Can you believe it’s over, and that we’re really married?”
Rinsing the shaving soap off. “We’re both still virgins, ain’t we? I’ll believe it when we’re not.”
“Yes.” Rinsing the soap off. “Well, we won’t be for long.”
Knowing she should leave well enough alone, Marsha did enjoy teasing him—and did enjoy knowing he was looking at her, and especially enjoyed seeing the reaction she caused in him—and wanting to see the look on his face, drying hers, opening the door, coming out of the bathroom, “Mitchell!” startled at seeing him standing just outside the doorway, still nude, “you’re not supposed to just stand around here all naked!”
“Why not? Like you said, we are married, and married people do….” Drying his face, not expecting her to come from the bathroom bare-chested, lowering the towel, “uh, go naked in front of each other.”
Except for the time at the planetarium, when she’d seen him in a flaccid state—and then she had thought it was more the way he had been sitting than his actual flaccid size—though, to be honest, she hadn’t really thought about it because each time she’d seen it he’d always been in an erected state, and now, thinking, it’s cute! Marsha looked at the white nub of Mitchell’s penis within the black triangle of pubic hair…
And Mitchell looked at Marsha’s breasts that, more than merely exciting, he truly thought of as absolutely beautiful, and standing nude, looking at her, watching her look at him, Mitchell did become excited, again, and his penis did begin to engorge with blood, again.
Fascinated, as though hypnotically watching the swaying head of a cobra, swallowing, blinking her eyes, Marsha watched as, jerking twice, within a moment it stood stiffly, horizontally away from his body.
As the transformation took place, from soft to hard, from limp to erect, Marsha, once again felt a warm flush and again, she cursed the premature timing that had caused the delay in allowing her to do what she had dreamt of doing since that night in June, six months ago, when Mitchell had first kissed her at the beach. Now, not knowing what to say, what to do, knowing she had to do something, forcing her eyes upward, stepping backward, closing the door behind her, looking at her face in the mirror, Marsha tried to regain her composure… Finally, reaching into the open top of her green, imitation lizard overnight case, she removed the plastic bag containing her makeup.
Never loosing his composure, tickled that Marsha had lost hers, actually flattered by her reaction, packing the shaving gear into his kit, zipping it, he went to the closet.
The day before, having gotten over whatever it was that had made her angry earlier in the day, Myra had driven Rhea, Marsha and Rosalie to the Palmer House at 4:30 p.m., where they’d ensconced themselves, along with the bridesmaids as they showed up, in room 1812 to do whatever was necessary to make themselves beautiful, and change into their gowns.
Changing into their tuxedos at home, Eli went to the hotel with Roger and a very pregnant Brenda, which was the reason she’d declined “standing up.” At his request, letting Walter drive, Mitchell and Walter came in the Ford convertible.
Not allowed in the room, whoever it was that stuck her bare arm through the slightly parted door to get his luggage was heard to say, “That’s really classy, Lipensky!” Because Mitchell’s “luggage” consisted of the then-empty plastic bag from the tuxedo rental shop and a brown-paper A&P shopping bag containing his shaving kit, jacket, shoes and one complete change of clothing.