Standing face to face, body to body, his arms hanging limply to his sides, the thirty-two year old man’s heart thumping because, wanting to do something, feeling he should do something, say something, his mind suddenly blank with overwhelming indecision.
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Chapter Fourteen
Inconspicuous
New York, N.Y.
Tuesday 5/4/15
9:16 PM
Agnes opening the front door while holding Morris’ hand; to the left the dining room was empty. Anyone in time for Berthas early breafast wouldeat in the kitchen .
To the right the living room contained six of the eight guests: four at the table playing a card game of some sort, the other two in easy chairs apparently dozing.
Having no need to inform her aunt that they had returned, leading him directly to her room, opening the door, it took no prompting to have Morris enter directly behind her.
The room in darkness but for one low wattage bedside lamp lightly lightening the room with a barely noticeable buttery cast.
Standing face to face, body to body, his arms hanging limply to his sides, the thirty-two year old man’s heart thumping because, wanting to do something, feeling he should do something, say something, his mind suddenly blank with overwhelming indecision.
The twenty-two ear old woman, though, knowing exactly what she felt, what she wanted to happen. Her hands clasped behind the man’s head drawing his face, his mouth to her. Their lips touching… her tongue making minute entrance.
On the rare instances when Morris Pinowskiz, AKA Solomon Berkowitz AKA— and for ever more known as— ‘Morris Pink’, had been with jewel bedecked women, their good-nights, and more often their not, ‘goodbye’, had been with a hardly felt or acknowledged peck on the cheek. But now, in this semi-dark room, the touch of Agnes’ tongue attempting entrance was allowed, where instinctively, as two dear friends meeting with welcoming hands outstretched, so then did this man’s tongue meet this woman’s tongue in warm greeting. 9:21 PM
“Morris, dear…” moving from their tepid tongue touching, lip touching embrace; realising this man’s total lack of knowledgeable male to female romantic fortitude; herself going on a thin veneer of emotive female passion, taking his hand “...let’s go to bed.”
Sensing a twitch in his testicles. Nervously aware of what he thought was about to happen for the first time in the years of his life, moving within the urging of Agnes’ prompting. Reaching the single size bed, he going to the left, she to the right.
“Agnes…” sitting, stalling “...we’ll be married tomorrow. Think we should until we’re married?”
“Morris, sweetheart, we’ll be on the train tomorrow, and…” possibly the suffragette sense of ‘moving forward’ prompting Agnes to do as she wished, when she wished. Reaching across the bed, rubbing his shadowy back “... I have such a strong feeling for you now. Do you mind, dear?”
Angling sideways, taking Agnes’ hand, kissing her palm. “No, sweetheart…” wanting to feel it but— other than a minute stretching of his penis— not feeling it “...I have an urge for you now also.”
Standing, beginning the lengthy process of removing her, for the times, abundant clothing. “One thing, if you do not mind, dear.”
Standing also. Beginning the, much less lengthily process of removing his clothing. “What’s that, darling?”
“You don’t mind if, for this first time, we meet each other in a dark room?”
Relieved at the thought that he would not have to reveal his body for this first time also. “No. However you wish, of course.”
‘A point or two below pretty and a point or two above attractive’, Agnes, being on the thin side, did have what she considered moderately small breasts that, even giving for her young age, were on the ‘saggy’ side and, considering the size of her breasts, large areola with extremely sensitive nipples. Her stomach concave with hips wide enough to easily facilitate birth — whenever such a time came— Agnes’ pubic area and upper thighs on the hairy side as the removal of armpit and leg hair by American women had became a new practice in the early 20th century. Her thighs firm, her legs and calves attractive enough — if ever such a time came— to occasionally attract the attention of a passing man.
Generally speaking, Agnes thought herself unappealing, and did not want her— as of tomorrow— husband to see her nude body; at least not at this time.
As for Morris: Topped by lovely, soft brown hair, his cherub-like face... such as would never be considered to be the face of a wanted jewel thief that now was being hunted throughout Germany and neighbouring countries.
Morris’ body definitely on the pudgy side with; which in reality was rather average for his height and girth, was what he considered to be an undersized penis that was partially hidden by— at this place— dark brown hair that thinly covered his thighs and legs.
Considering himself pudgy with a small penis, Morris did not want his— as of tomorrow— wife to see his nude body at this time.
9:26 PM
Within this near dark room, the nude thirty-two year old man and twenty-two year old woman sitting back to back on Agnes’s single size bed waiting for the other to make a move, to….
Indecisive seconds passing until… Turning from her sitting position, lying flat, Agnes’s hip softly upon the fold of Morris’ upper buttock and lower back, prompting him to turn also, and to lay back also, so now, on this single size bed, the man and woman reclining closely side by side, left and right arms touching, hands touching… clasped now as a spontaneous decision made, turning onto her side, snuggling her entire body against
and— due to this narrow, single bed — partially atop Morris as lips, once again finding the others, as tongues, once again finding the others; not lightly now; the discovery of lips and tongues a thing of the distant six minute past.
Body to body. Chest to chest. The soft, warm prod of feminine breasts against soft male breasts. Hands clutching tight, slight buttocks and larger, softer buttocks.
9:31 PM
Neither willing to break the first time soul touching sensations of mouth and body and hand held warm flesh.
Never being brought to this degree of physical, mental and sensual contentment. “Love you!” Neither aware of speaking or merely thinking the words, but the words or thought awakening a meaning other than mere passion.
9:33 PM
The long, acquainting kiss breaking as the man’s mouth and lips lower onto the woman’s hard chest, then quickly upon a warm, soft breast latching upon an excited, hardened nipple as, the woman’s hand lightly clenched about the man’s warm, soft penis.
9:35 PM
The dark room in absolute silence except for the breathing sounds of the man and woman.
Excited nipple softening...The man’s penis, still within Agnes’s hand still but a slight tube of soft flesh.
In a state of absolute embarrassment. “Thought everything like this was supposed to come naturally.” Turning onto his back. “Getting kind of tired…” Morris said in a bit of depressed tone “...mind if I go into my room?”
Wanting to do something, to say something to end what Agnes knew had to be embarrassing to him, and was glad he had made the suggestion.
Afraid of blood if they should begin intercourse due to her broken hymen and not wanting to leave a bloody sheet for her aunt to find and wash. “Maybe… she said “... ‘things’ don’t always come all that naturally.” Kissing his cheek. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”— meaning his penile problem, but could also be construe as; “We’ve so much to do tomorrow, so it’s okay. Go on to bed.”
Anxious for tomorrow, and speaking to her aunt to tell her she would be leaving, and ask if she would be a witness to her marriage to Morris, then giving notice that she would be leaving her job at the bank, then getting to city hall to find a judge, or a Justice of the Peace, then digging out her old steamer trunk from the basement and doing some packing of what she’d be needing for a while, until, as Morris had told her, they would buy whatever she would need… And then to just get on the train.
“I’m tired also…” standing “... so it’s okay. Go on to bed.”
New York, N.Y.
Wednesday 5/5/15
6:06 AM
Having no idea if Agnes wanted him with her when she told Bertha of their plans; awakening with the same worrisome thoughts he’d had three hours earlier when Morris had finally fallen asleep.
6:21 AM
After a quick shave and shower and replacing yesterdays clothing with fresh, passing through the dining-room on the way to the kitchen, sitting at the table speaking intently over cups of coffee were two of today’s tenants that, so deep in discussion, happily neither gave Morris a meaningful glance as he passed by.
Agnes already… “Good morning!” ...in the kitchen.
In a rather sharp tone…. “Good morning!”
Bertha’s infection alerting Morris to the fact that she was not too happy with her niece's announcement that she would be leaving with him today and that after knowing each other but for a day and a half, planned on marring before leaving for… Wherever?
His look telling Agnes he was aware that Bertha was angry as — Morris’ deeply ingrained professional ‘sales’ ability coming forward. “Bertha…” approaching, as the woman’s attention was back to the stove turning six frying eggs “...I know you believe it strange that Agnes and I had just met and now we’re leaving together.” Hands held gently on the old lady’s shoulders. “You know sometimes things just happen that nobody can explain or expects. Maybe it’s God’s way to bring two people together that are simply meant to be together. I do love your niece and she loves me and I am well able to support her.” looking at Agnes. “Not that she needs a man to support her because she is the most able woman I’ve ever met. So please do not be angry at her, at us, and… I know it will mean a lot to her if you’ll come along to witness her marriage.”
Scooping the eggs from the pan and placing three each onto two platters. Turning, facing her niece; “Agnes…” she asked “...do you love this man?”
“Yes…” buttering four slices of toast “... I do, auntie.”
“All right, then. I’m still not happy about this, but I’ll put the sign up telling them…” nodding her head towards the dining-room doorway “...there will be no dinner served tonight.”
Walking to the ice box, removing a covered bowl of cottage cheese and a Mason jar of ‘put up’ peaches, Bertha dropped a large scoop of cottage cheese along with three wedges of peach onto each and the four slices of buttered toast onto a smaller dish.
Taking the three plates from the table along with the pot of coffee from the stove; placing all four onto a tray. “I’ll take care of this.” Agnes said, as turning to the dining-room and the two men’s breakfast.
“Morris…” Bertha said “… I think you’re a good man and will be kind to my
niece.” Standing near face to face. “But also feel there is something not all together right about you.” Stopping a moment. “Oh, it’s probably just that you’re taking Agnes… Who’s been more a daughter to me than my sisters child. Anyway…” turning away, wiping both hands on her apron “...you’ll let me know when it’s time to leave for, uh…”
“Bertha…” hating his deception, taking hold of her shoulders once again, kissing her cheek, sincerely said “...of course we will!”
8:18 AM
Knocking on the thick plate glass door…
The after hours security guard— recognising Morris as the man with Agnes yesterday, unlocking the door... “ ‘Morning, Miss, Sir.” ...held it it open.
Nodding his head, “ ‘Morning.” Morris said.
Holding Morris’s hand, urging him to come along “...It’ll be easier to tell him if you’re with me.”
Cutting across the shiny marbled floor. The name on the open door reading ‘Adam Hotchkins’ and below, ‘Branch Manger’.
Knocking lightly, “Mister Hotchkins…” Agnes said as the white haired man, looking up, noting the man standing alongside,“Miss Longstead?” Hotchkins greeting sounding more a question.
“I’d like you to meet my, uh, fiance, Morris …” still unable to pronounce, ‘Pinowskiz’, aware he’d been using the name “...Pink.”
Standing, reaching across the desk... “Mister Pink.” Shaking hands. To Agnes, “Your fiance, you say? Congratulations!” To Morris, “How can I help you?”
Before able to respond...
“Mister Hotchkins, I want to thank you for giving me the opportunity, and want you to know that I’ve truly loved working here.”
“You’ll be leaving us?” The bank manager asked in a concerned tone.
“Yes. Wish I could have given you more notice, but Morris…” squeezing his hand “...and I are getting married later today and have important out of state business to attend.”
Still standing. “Miss Longfstead…” sighing. “ ‘Agnes’, I want to tell you I’ve never been sorry that I hired you. In truth, you are this banks worthiest employee and it it wasn’t for…” Stopping. “Women, educated women like yourself are scarce and after seeing your work ethic and ability, if it were up to me you’d be out of that…” nodding towards the tellers windows “...cage and behind our ‘loans’ desk.” Sadly spoken. “But it isn’t up to me because I believe that the person most able, man ‘or’ woman, ‘whoever’ is the most able should be hired for the position.” Sitting now, looking up. “I’m truly sorry to lose you and wish the both of you the very best of luck.” 8:34 AM
Looking up, noting the darkening sky. “Seems like a nice man.”
“You know, Morris, no one there…” her tone becoming bitter “...nobody at that bank ‘ever’ had anything to say to me. I actually feel I was ostracized. Oh, if there was some reason, every now and then Mister Baker, that, excuse me, ‘bastard’, would approach, but it was never with a word of greeting, it was always, ‘Longford’, check this or that for me! And never a ‘thank you’.”
Wondering, though, If I’d have been offered the ‘Loans’ desk, would I be here with a man I hardly know about to leave everything I have ever known?
Rain starting. Steering Agnes to under an awning. “Hold on.” Rushing towards the short line of cabs sitting along the curb. 8:41 AM
Rain coming harder.
Paying the cabbie thirty cents, then tightening their jackets as, making a dash to the door with Morris wondering: How many people might there be waiting for the rain to stop. Breakfast served only to whomever is up when Agnes comes to eat. so, he assumed, the earlier two were no longer in the dining-room.
Been lucky so far. But… he thought ...could some of them be in the living-room, and if so, how many? And would whoever is in there recognize me as a fellow passenger. Surely by now… Morris further thought ...anyone wanting to could have purchased a German language newspaper and by now the story of a ‘wanted’ jewel thief with a British/German passport could have taken ships passage to England, or even...shuddering … America; Reinforcing —now Morris Pink’s— urgency to get Agnes ‘packed up’ and out of this fishbowl to the New York City Hall for a quick wedding, and then to Grand Central to wait within an anonymous crowd until they could board the train ultimately bound fo this place called Loveland, Ohio. 8:46 AM
Passing by, turning his head to the side so he would not be recognized by the old snoozing lady in the living-room.
Train’s not leaving until six-0-five tonight, if— as the man said—“it’s on time.” So… Morris thought … how am I supposed to remain Inconspicuous for just about ten hours? ‘If’ the train is on time?”
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