Looking Back Ch. 09

"Oh, Kate, this is amazing," she said.

"What?"

"Montreal! The streets, the buildings, the lobby downstairs! I've never seen anything like any of it!"

The only thing I could think of was, "You're not in Kansas any more, Toto," which would have just confused her, so I just kept my mouth shut.

We talked about her trip and her impressions of Montreal for a while, and then I took her to her hotel room and told her to meet me in the lobby in an hour so we could go to dinner.

When the waiter arrived, he asked if we wanted wine with dinner. I paused, badly wanting a glass or two of good wine, but not sure how Mary Margaret would feel about it.

She surprised me when she spoke up. "Oh yes, we should," Then, turning to me, a grin on her face and her eyes scrunched up like she was about to get away with something, said, "I'm not in the convent now. I've never had wine, and I've always wanted to try it."

I ordered a good bottle of white Burgundy. After it arrived, Mary Margaret took her first sip of wine (other than sacramental wine) and smiled as though discovering a new aspect of the world. "Oh that's good," she said. Restraint wasn't her style, and by the time we were half way through dinner, the bottle was empty.

She looked at me with a hopeful smile and asked if we could have another bottle. She's going to have a headache in the morning, I thought. What the hell, I'll give her some Ibuprofen before I send her off to bed for the night. It always helps. Besides the wine was a tasty Chassagne Montrachet, and I wanted more myself, so I flagged the waiter and ordered another bottle. After all, that's what expense accounts are for.

The second bottle disappeared like the first and by the time we returned to the hotel, I was feeling a bit of a buzz, and Mary Margaret was probably feeling more, although she was walking steadily.

The wine did one good thing for me. It killed my inhibitions enough so that I was ready to talk to Mary Margaret about the "problem" with her book. I invited her up to my suite and we sat down on the couch. I said, "Mary Margaret, there's a problem with your book, we need to talk about."

"Oh," she said. "Didn't I do the rewrites correctly?" she looked downcast, still gorgeous, but downcast.

"No, no. The rewrites were fine. In fact my boss wanted to send the book off to the production department to get it printed."

She looked at me, her beautiful face tipped to one side asking what the problem was?

I paused. Even with a full bottle of wine under my belt, I was having trouble screwing up my courage for this one. Then I just went ahead and asked. "Mary Margaret, have you ever had sex?"

Her eyes got wide. "What?"

"I said, have you ever had sex?"

She blinked and then said, "Oh no, never." She looked downcast. "Is that a problem?"

"Well," I said. "It's seems to me that it's hard to write about the advantages of celibacy if you don't have any experience with the alternative."

"The alternative?"

"Sex, fucking, screwing, and all the other perversions mankind so dearly enjoys." The wine was clearly getting to me.

She leaned back and her eyes widened a bit, clearly surprised by my strong language. "Well no. It never occurred to me that would be a problem for writing the book."

"That shows. I mean it shows in the book. You have a good book. Like I said, my boss wants to print it, but it could be so much better if you had the perspective of having had sex."

She stared at me, but I was on a roll now. "I'll bet you've never even kissed someone have you?"

She visibly brightened. "Oh, sure I have. I'll show you." She leaned towards me and gave me the softest peck on the cheek.

"That's not quite what I meant, Mary Margaret. Let me show you." Now the alcohol was really taking control, and I could feel plain old-fashioned lust rising in my loins. I leaned forward, taking her head between my hands and placed a soft chaste kiss on her lips, her oh-so-soft lips. She didn't pull away, and I held it longer than I planned. When I pulled away, I was staring into her eyes only a few inches from mine.

All she said was, "Oh," slowly and softly. Her voice was beautiful.

Then I leaned in and kissed her again. The lust that was building in me was taking control. Her lips were so soft and she smelled just beautiful. This time I let my tongue out of its cage and pushed it gently against her pursed lips. She let them open and my tongue slid inside and began to duel with hers. I heard a sharp intake of breath from her as she felt the entry of my tongue.

The kiss was a long one, and when I pulled back, we both had that fogged look induced by a combination of wine and lust. "That's sex, Mary Margaret," I said.

"I assume there is more to it than just that. I mean that was good, but there is more, isn't there?"

"Oh yes," I said. I leaned into her again, only this time I dropped my face down the curve of her neck, and pushing her long blonde hair aside, I nibbled slowly and softly at that sensitive portion of a woman's neck that lies just where it meets her shoulder.

She groaned softly and used a hand to pull my head in to keep me from pulling back.

When she finally let me go and I pulled back, she was smiling. "Ummmm . . . and is there more than that?"

"Oh yes," I said. "Do you want more?"

"Yes, I think I do."

"Are you sure?"

"Very." And this time she leaned in and kissed me, her tongue exploring my mouth and caressing my teeth, her lips nibbling at mine. It was a long sensuous kiss and somewhere in the middle of it, I cupped one of her generous breasts in my hand. Wine and lust were firmly in control of my mind now. She gasped when I did that and used a hand to press mine more firmly to her breast.

When we broke the kiss, I continued to fondle her breast through her clothes as she lay back against the couch, but now I was using a hand on each of her breasts. She lay back, her eyes closed, and said, "Oh yes. That feels so good. Is there more?"

"Oh yes. Let me show you." I said, as I began to unbutton her blouse. Then I reached behind her and released her bra and pushed it aside so I could fondle her naked tits. Her breasts were beautiful, big and soft with large pale colored areolas that swelled as she became aroused. Now I used my fingertips to slowly trace a track around her tits, coming closer and closer to their core. When I got to her nipples, I rubbed them softly with the palm of my hand until they rose like a small penis seeking always more stimulation. They were darker than her areolas and, once hardened, were quite large. Now I had each nipple between my fingers and was pulling and twisting. Mary Margaret was groaning and twisting in her seat as I continued to molest her hardened nipples. Now she began gasping, and I wondered if she was one of the few women who can reach an orgasm just from nipple stimulation.

Just as I thought that, she arched her back and cried out, clearly experiencing a powerful orgasm. I pulled her against me and held her as she regained her breath. When I pulled my head back, I could see tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Oh God. Is that what sex is about?" she asked still sobbing.

"Just the beginning," I said.

"More."

I couldn't decide if it was a question or a request, but I was seriously horny now, so I took it as a request.

"We need to get undressed," I said. As I released her belt and trousers, she peeled off her blouse and the bra that was no longer functioning. I knelt at her feet and removed her ever so practical shoes and socks, and after I pulled her trousers and plain white panties off, for some reason known only in the more perverted depths of my brain, I knelt again and took her feet to my mouth, sucking on her toes and licking them as sensuously as I could. She giggled.

As I stood before her and stripped my clothes off, she asked, "Is that sex too, I mean sucking on my toes?" She had a big smile on her face.

"It is if you like it," I said. "But there are lots of other places to suck and kiss that I know you'll like. Let's go to the bedroom."

The bedroom was dark, but I turned on a low light that illuminated her beauty stretched out on her back on the bed. "Oh, shouldn't it be dark?" she asked.

"No, you're beautiful, and I want to see you. That's part of sex. Seeing others and sometimes exposing yourself to others."

"Oh. Okay," she said stretching her arms behind her head so her tits rose from her chest.

My God, she is beautiful I thought. Then I dropped to my knees pushing her legs apart. I fell forward smashing my tits against her hips and began to suck on her tits. Mary Margret put her hands on either side of my head pushing her fingers through my hair and holding my face tight to her breasts as she began her low moan again.

I wanted her to cum from lower down this time, so I raised my head and began to slide down her chest, kissing as I went. When I got to her navel, I stuck my tongue in it and swirled about. She giggled again.

Then I moved lower. Her bush was the same blonde as her hair and thin. I pushed her legs apart and began to lick her outer lips. "Ohhhh!" she groaned. Again she used her hands to pull my face into her so I wouldn't pull myself away. My hands had been massaging her breasts, but I pulled them away and used them to spread her outer lips so I could tongue her deeper against her inner lips. I could see juice leaking from her pussy now, and I used my fingers to spread it up along her lips to her clit. As I licked her she moaned and cried, and now I slid two fingers into her cunt. She was so wet, and she tasted delicious.

I didn't want to push her into her second orgasm immediately, so I tongued her gently, stopping short of her clit, which was now peeking from beneath its hood, and I was finger-fucking her, but not with speed or any real force. Mary Margaret was responding by grinding her hips and forcing her pussy into my face.

I pulled my fingers from her cunt and reached for her tits. "Oh no!" she cried. Don't stop that. Please don't stop that!" But when I used my slippery fingertips to rub, pinch, pull, and twist on one of her nipples she gasped and pushed her chest up against my hand. "Oh yes, yes, yes!" she cried as I continued to tongue her pussy and play with her nipples.

It was no longer necessary to hold her outer lips open. They were open on their own, and so I took the hand that had been doing that and began to use it to finger-fuck her again.

"Oh God, yes! Yes, yes, yes, that's it!" she cried.

I pulled my head up and asked, "Are you going to going to cum again?"

"Oh fuck, yes, I mean I don't know, I mean" . . . and then bang, she fell over the edge into a huge orgasm that seem to come in waves and keep her hips pushed into my face forever and a flood of juice rushed out of her cunt soaking my face. I still hadn't gotten to her clit. This girl was on a hair trigger.

Then she was done, pulled into a fetal position and crying. I wrapped myself around her from behind, and we lay like that for the longest time, eventually falling asleep.

In the morning she was still sleeping soundly when I awoke. I covered her with a blanket, put on a robe and went into the outer room of the suite to order breakfast from room service. By the time Mary Margaret appeared, room service had delivered coffee and croissants and I had found my bottle of Ibuprofen, which I knew I needed, and I thought Mary Margaret would need after the wine we had consumed the night before.

She had, like me, wrapped a hotel robe around herself. Her hair was a mess, what little make-up she had worn the night before was smeared across her features, and she still looked absolutely gorgeous.

"Hi," I said.

"Hi," she replied, looking very insecure and in pain.

I handed her the Ibuprofen bottle and said, "Take three of these with the water on the table. Let's have some coffee and croissants, and then we should talk. Not before."

We sat silently sipping our coffee. As I looked at her over the top of my coffee cup, I was stunned by her beauty. Between the coffee and the Ibuprofen, I could feel the fog beginning to lift. It's funny how you never notice when a headache goes away. You just suddenly notice that it isn't there any more.

Eventually I asked her, "Feeling better?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry," I said.

"About what?"

"Last night,"

"What about last night?"

"I let you get drunk, and then I seduced you. I didn't intend to seduce you. I just wanted to talk to you about your book, but you are so beautiful and sexy, that after the first kiss . . . well, I should have stopped, but I didn't."

"Either one of us could of stopped, and we didn't. I mean, I could have told you to stop and you would have, but I didn't. I didn't because I was enjoying it. It was so good," she said.

"So you're not mad at me?" I asked.

"Hardly. My only question now is what to do about the book?"

"Fuck if I know," I said. "My boss still wants to publish it as is."

"Well, after last night, I have real doubts about what it says," she said, "but I sure don't know how to fix it."

I laughed. "Neither do I," I said.

"I need a shower," she said, changing the subject.

"Me too."

She looked at me for a long moment and then spoke, "Can we take one together?"

"You're really not mad at me for last night?"

"Oh no, I just want more, and I want to learn how to do that to you. And then I need to learn about men."

"Oh . . . Men. That's a whole 'nother subject," I said. "Let's start with a shower."

So we did, and wound up spending the rest of the day and the following night in bed while I tried to teach her as much of what Halili had taught me as I could before we were completely exhausted.

"That's quite a story," Henry said. "I have a couple of questions. "First, what happened to the book?"

"Oh we published it as it was. It made a little money, about average for a religious publication, which is not much. I never understood why Jim wanted to bother with that line. It never made enough money to cover its share of the overhead."

"And what happened to Sister Mary Margaret?"

She went back to the convent, but it really wasn't going to work for her once she had her wild night with me. Eventually she took a leave of absence and moved down to Montreal. She went a little nuts for a couple of years, working first as a stripper and then as a hooker, but she outgrew that, and she eventually married some nice guy, a doctor, I think, and they live in Calgary and have three beautiful kids. I always get a Christmas card from her. She is still very committed to the Church, but just as a member, rather than a sister.