PIT 2/13: Lita 3

Points In Time

Elysium Fields

Topanga, California

June 7,1986

2:25 PM

Watching the backside movement as Marsha’s thin, smooth ass and Morgan’s burly, hairy ass as they made their way past the communal shower stalls to the entrance of ‘Elysium Lodge’.

2:30 PM

“There’s three rooms in there?”

“Yeah.”

Standing. “We’ve waited long enough...” Lita said “ …. ‘Mitchell’, fuck me.”

Standing, taking Lita’s hand.

Without the slightest hint of Vacillation.!

The four on the blanket watched as Lita and Mitchell walked to the Elysium Lodge and through the double doorway.

Entering the structure there is the meeting and lecture room. Sitting on dark planked flooring, chairs and lounges scattered about, the large, knotty pine paneled room had a open beam ceiling and a huge, floor to ceiling rock fireplace.

Turning to the left, into a hallway containing three rooms. The furthest door, the doorway into the third room was closed.

Going into the first room, Mitchell shut the door.

In Elysium, being naked with Lita, along with the others all day, the mystique of a nude female body no longer sexually enticing; at least not until lying closely front to front, face to face, breast to chest, along with other boldly components.

At this moment, knowing his wife was but two rooms away fucking his friend Morgan registering on his mind as— after thirty-one years of marriage — a thing he should feel a semblance of concern for… Instead Mitchell Lipensky felt nothing more than a hollow sensation in the pit of his stomach regarding his wife and the past thirty-one years of his life now causing...

Within his min and heart, Mitchell sensed the deep felt ‘need’ to be loved once again. And the deep felt ‘need’ to ‘love’ once again.

Lita, recalling his words those five weeks earlier, those words asking her what does he do if his , and now ‘her’ feelings should go beyond a fast fuck? What if he, and now she feels something more than a quickly felt sexual release? Why is she feeling this sense of emotion for the man still standing alongside her?

A ‘good guy’! A ‘gentleman’ bullied by an uncaring, non loving wife?

What if?

What do they do if their ‘friendly’ emotions go beyond that ‘fast fuck’?

What it a stronger bond was to be forged?

Both still standing just inside the ‘private room’ . Both knowing they should be sensing more apprehension over what was to possibly become a bi-racial affair — as far as Mitchell was concerned, eventually, possibly even leading to marriage.

What the hell do we do?

“Mitchie…” Hesitant. Possibly afraid to let this liaison proceed because what if she should begin to feel “...with your wife just there…” motioning to the towards the third closed room “...what do you want…”

Turning suddenly, hands closing tightly onto both cheeks. “Lita…” said passionately “...what I want is to ‘ear’ you! I want to ‘taste’ you! I want my tongue into you as far as it can go! Then…” emotionally stated “… I want to fuck you, baby…” the four words slipping out “...because I love you!”

Uh-oh! “You, too, Mitchie…” not knowing if she ‘really’ meant it “...I love you, too.”

Side steeping to the one double bed in the room. Dropping onto the bed, with a squeaking of bed springs, within seconds Mitchell’s head held tightly between her thighs. Lita’s head held loosely between his thighs.

Her mouth exactly where she wanted, sucking exactly as she wanted.

His mouth exactly where he wanted. His tongue, parting Lita’s labia, exactly where he wanted.

3:10 PM

Breathing coming in quick hard gasps...

“Baby…” hot — physically and sexually, their sweating chests parting “… my, God…” the last hard ejaculation — withdrawing from Leta’s open thighs, his slick penis, wet with bodily fluid… retracting from her drenched vagina with a wet suction sound “...I forgot what it was like.”

“Me, too, Mitchie…” catching her breath “… I forgot what it was really like also.”

Side to side. Lita and Mitchell lay side to side as hearing the door two rooms away open and then he padding of the bare feet of Morgan and Marsha as they passed by.

Knowing this was no longer a ‘fast fuck’ thing. The physical memory of her last orgasm still causing a quiver within her lower stomach.

Sensing the need to be loved. Sensing the need to love again.

“Mitchie...” now knowing she ‘really’ did mean it “...I love you.!” Lita said as, turning onto her side, facing him. “So what are we going to do?”

“Your husband? The you black, the me white thing?”

“Yes! He’ll hate it, but Howard will be gone. But the ‘black and white thing’?” That’ll be with us forever.”

“Things… Times are changing, I see more and more mixed couples.”

“Too few, and not fast enough for me, Mitch.”

“I don’t know. We’ll have to figure that out.” he said adding: “Marsha’s leaving on Tuesday.”

“ ‘Leaving’? For how long? Where to?”

Tuesday, June 16, 1986

Woodland Hills, California

‘Allied Movers’ arriving at 7:45 AM. The house emptied of Marsha’s cartons and furniture by 11:55 AM.

Having nothing to say to each other, but feeling conspicuous because of  having nothing to say to each other.

“What time should we leave for the airport?”

“Flight’s at three-thirty so, I’d guess about ‘one-thirty’ or so.”

2:20 PM

The forty-five minute drive drive from Woodland hills to Los Angeles International Airport (LAX)was in what could only be described as ‘thick silence’..

Pulling to ‘United Departures’ curb, the husband helped the wife remove the four suite cases from the rear of the Ford Station wagon that was then loaded onto a cart by a ‘Red Cap’ that would then be brought to The ‘United’ window to loaded onto the plane that would transport the wife from Los Angles, California to Chicago, Illinois.

Standing at the curb as the ‘Red Cap’ wheeled away. “We’ve still better than an hour before you take off. Give me a couple of minutes to park the car and I’ll wait with you.”

“No…” she said “...no reason to prolong it, I’d just as soon say ‘goodbye’ here, now.”

“Okay, Marsha…” feeling a profound sadness at this “...if this is the way you want it.”

“Yes, I do, Mitchell... ‘Bye!’!” Without a further word, turning away, Marsha rushed to catch up with the ‘Red Cap’.

Watching the few seconds it took Marsha to meld within the crowd and disappear from sight…

Sighing, getting into the Ford, I drove home.

Tuesday, June 16, 1986

Woodland Hills, California

6:50 PM

Packing the last of the non-perishable items in a carton marked ‘kitchen/food’. The refrigerated items to be loaded in cartons to be carried by myself tomorrow to be placed in the refrigerator left by the seller as it appeared to be years newer than what I have. The old one to be taken by The Salivation Army.

“You had the electricity and gas turned on?”

“Yes, both should be on this morning, and I ordered a new telephone and should have my new number tomorrow.”

“Be sure to give me your new number.”

“You’ll be the first to get it, honey.”

With Lita’s help, four of the now remaining cartons shoved into the rear of the Ford Station Wagon. Her small overnight bag onto the seat between us.

Westlake Village, California

6:45 PM

Passing through Calabassas and Agoura and the Los Angeles and Ventura county lines, fifteen miles west of Woodland hills on the ‘101’.

Driving through tree lined neighbourhood streets, then pulling onto the garage driveway of 2821 Waterview Lane, the car stopped.

Wanting Lita to enter through the front door, I did not open the garage door.

Coming from the Ford, taking a few seconds to look about. “

Though attached units, “Wow, Mitchie, this is some nice neighbourhood!”

“It’s really pretty here, Lita, and wait till you see inside.

Unlocking the door, I stood aside.

“Mitchie, my God...” seeing the view from the Spanish foyer, through the living-room, through the glass wall looking past the redwood deck to the water of West Lake Lake “...this is ‘beautiful’!”

Thinking, Wonder if she’d like to live here with me?

I could live here, Lita thought.

“Well…” she said “...might as well start unpacking.”

The station wagon still parked on the garage driveway. popping the rear door and reaching inside, I pulled one of the lighter cartons for Lita to carry…

“Hi, there!”

An older ‘Lincoln Continental’ had pulled onto the neighbouring driveway and, the driver side door opening, a middle aged man lifting himself off the seat… “Hi, there! You our new neighbour?”

Stepping over the three foot wide grass meridian separating our two properties, holding his hand forward, “I’m Milton… ‘Milt’ Abrams, and this is…” motioning over the roof of the Lincoln “...my wife, ‘Harriet’.”

“Hi, Milt…” moving forward to shake hands and, nodding my greeting to “… ‘Harriet’!”

“I’m Mitch Lipensky and…” crossing the meridian strip “… this is my, uh…” not really knowing what Lita and I were to each other...

“I’m Mitch Lipensky and this my,uh, girlfriend, Lita.”

Human and prejudicial conditions and reactions outside of the ultra liberal nudist fields of Elysium much different in the ‘real’ world and a show of non acceptance can happen in split seconds. Sometimes it might be no more than the crinkle of an eyelid or the temporary tightening of lips…

The split second change in the ‘welcoming’ attitude of our new next door neighbour’ flashing from the faces’ of Milton but much more so from the face of Harriet Abrams…

Which I did not notice, however apparently more attuned to prejudicial attitude, Lita certainly did.

“Uh…” Milton said “...nice meeting you, Mitch.”

The near unnoticed turn of Harriet’s mouth downward. “Welcome to ‘our’

neighbourhood,Mitchell.”

The Abrams’ entered their home through the garage, automatically closing the garage door behind them.

7:26 PM

Opening the carton containing linens and bath towels.

“You packed these, didn’t you!”

“Never could figure out how to fold a fitted sheet.”

“I’ll say!”

All fitted sheets rolled into sloppy balls, Lita properly folded and… As she would have it, laid the linen and towel shelves as ‘she’ herself would have them.

I stood to the side watching as Lita folded, straightened and placed, and by the look of concentration on her face wondered if she were thinking for ‘our’ home or wishing it was ‘for our’ home’!

“Finished, Mitchie. Now let’s see how long you can keep it this way.”

“Probably until I change my sheet, wash it and put it away again.”

“Know what, Mitch?” Taking my face into her hands, a solemn expression coming to her face. “I…” taking a deep breath— whatever Lita was going to say, thinking better of it, instead “...I’m getting hungry,” she said.

Knowing what I wanted to hear. Knowing what I wanted to day, instead “Me, too…” I said “... How’s pizza sound?”

“Great! Give a minute, though.”

I waited and watched as Lita chose one of the fitted sheets she had just folded and taking two perfectly folded matching light green pillow cases, went into the small bedroom and made up the one double bed that we had carried over Then, knowing what I ‘was’ thinking. “For later…” she said “...first let’s eat.”

“Think we ought to take a shower first?” I asked hopefully.

Knowing if they got undressed and into a shower together they would never get out of bed.

“You think you smell bad, do you?”

Lifting my arm, sniffing my armpit. “No.”

Doing the same.. “Me either… First eat. Then shower. Then bed.”

“ ‘Then’?”

“We’ll figure it out.”

Next PIT 2/14: Too Much