Martha in America Ch. 07

"Well, then, ... maybe you can just write home that you went out."

"That's a good idea," she agreed and then asked:

"And what will you do ... Friday evening?"

That was a fair question and good suggestion, that we should both do something - "to write home about."

"Oh," I replied: "... I'll probably have to go out with the other summer help for a drink. Yeah, that probably is really what will happen, for an hour at least."

Martha nodded understandingly, and smiled briefly, and then asked:

"Dinner at eight, then?" I nodded and then smirked and said:

"If I can have a snack if I come home earlier."

She smirked, too, with a nod, and agreed: "If it won't ruin your appetite."

"I doubt it."

"Since I'm supposed to be out with Helga, we can say that I warmed up the leftovers for you." "Um-hmm," I agreed and asked what Helga was like.

"Oh, she's nice," Martha replied: "... comes from outside Olso - down on the fjord - smaller than I am, but not petit, wavy dark hair. She wants to study art history, I think. We'll see each other at university."

I nodded as I ate, and Martha took a bite, and then we finished our breakfast.

Since it was still early, I helped clean up the kitchen, appreciating Martha with my eyes as she moved around, wondering a little about us, and then stood near her as she put things back in the refrigerator and put my hand on her ass. She glanced at me with a smile and then continued putting them away.

"What are you going to do today?" I asked.

"I better do the laundry. I was thinking I could do it tomorrow, since your parents aren't coming back till Sunday, but then thought that maybe we could do something else."

"Um-hmm, ... anything you want."

She responded with a smile, but then said:

"Maybe something else ..." with another smile.

I just nodded, and then had to go and get dressed.

Martha followed me a minute or two later, leaning against my desk with nonchalance in her nudity as she watched me. Once, I stared at her breasts until her nipples stiffened. She just smiled, but I thought her thighs had twitched slightly, too. Then she rubbed her breasts with the heels of her hands. "Sorry," I murmured. She just nodded with another smile as she replied:

"Felt good, ... just not for now .... I'm going to like doing the laundry, this away. It makes it kind of fun, being naked and doing tasks that usually aren't. I'll clean the kitchen and maybe vacuum." She snorted and added: "But we haven't spent much time anywhere. Oh, I can do the bathrooms."

I nodded with a grin at this summary of where we had spent most of our time, and then she accompanied me to the door, not looking like she was expecting a kiss, but I gave her one anyway, again finding it a little strange to be dressed and holding her naked body to me. She must have felt the same way, glancing down at herself afterwards and then at me as she murmured "funny" with a smile, and then I was off.

After a week on the job, a certain routine had developed. The supervisor for the students seem satisfied with my work, and as I expected, at lunch someone suggested that we all go out for a drink "and get to know each other better."

We met outside the building, and someone suggested that we go to an old Irish bar on Fifth Avenue. It was a "hold-out" against the development of a new office building that would fill the whole block, the old building standing at the edge of the great hole for the foundation. Inside, nothing seemed to have been changed since the place was built, a stark contrast to the new development, but comfortable, and the group agreed that it deserved our trade for not giving in to the developer's attempt to buy it out.

The guys ordered beer, and most of the girls ordered a glass of wine - only one, something non-alcoholic. Then we exchanged information about where we were going to college and what we were studying - the usual introductory discussion. Someone knew that I was a gymnast, so I had to tell a little. And a couple of the guys seemed to be most interested in learning more about the girls, of course. It was about what I had expected. Most of us had a second drink, and then there was some friendly joshing about college rivalries, and a little discreet competition for the attention of the girls with their varying responses: the one or other accepting an invitation for another glass of wine; another insisting that she would pay for own - but having one. Still another demured and nursed the one she had.

If I hadn't been looking forward to the evening with Martha, I probably would have joined in the competition and not observed everything so clearly, but that was interesting, too, and apparently made me more interesting: one of the girls asking me if I wasn't going to have another beer. So I did and offered to buy her a drink, and she accepted. When they came, I held my glass up and almost said "skaal", and we drank. As I looked back at her, I understood what Martha had meant about American drinking customs.

But then as we chatted, I was wondering how to avoid any suggestion that we go somewhere else. I glanced at my watch and said that I had said I would be home by eight o'clock. When she looked disappointed, I said apologetically:

"I should have thought that we might go out for a drink, ... Friday night."

She smiled and looked more understanding, and then added - maybe in response to my mentioning home:

"I'm sharing an apartment for the summer, ... well most of the time, when she isn't flying. Her roommate got married, and she needed someone to move in as soon as possible, until she decides if she will stay there - with someone for longer - or whatever. She flies overseas - United - away for three or four nights."

I nodded, wondering if she meant her explanation to be as suggestive as it could seem. I had already learned that she was going to be junior at Sarah Lawrence College, whose students were reputed to be liberal, not just in the arts.

"You are lucky," I remarked, and then grinned facetiously, thinking I had nothing to lose, and added:

"Let me know when she's flying to Sydney."

She seemed immediately to understand my implication and replied:

"I didn't mean that, ... that way," but then she couldn't repress a smile and added:

"But I guess it could have sounded like it."

I nodded and agreed:

"It did, ... or at least could have."

We both snickered and had a sip from our drinks as I thought to myself that it didn't hurt to be a bit fresh.

And she didn't seem to have minded, only mildly changing the subject by remarking that Bronxville, where Sarah Lawrence is, wasn't far from Columbia, letting me think that she could be suggesting that we see each other during the winter. Then we chatted about other things. We knew we could find each other in the company and didn't have to exchange addresses or phone numbers. When she suggested another drink - "on me" - I refused, saying that I didn't want to be too high when I got home, which was true, and then I left, saying: "Till next time," and she looked pleased, and then I was on my way "home."

I walked up Fifth Avenue, thinking the fresh air - on a hot summer evening in the City? - and the walk would be good after three beers, and then wondered about a "next time," and then admonishing myself for thinking about that while on my way to spend another night - and day and night - with Martha. But then I rationalized that it fitted in with our understanding that our affair was just for the week, and that it also demonstrated that I wasn't too emotionally involved - just loving her when we were making love. But that wasn't such a nice thought either; it sounded fine when we had just been doing it, but a little cheap at that moment.

Then I wondered how Martha felt about it, hoping that she felt like I did, but without having to go through my last thoughts. But she hadn't been in my situation - the suggestion of possibly doing it with someone else - so that wouldn't have occurred to her. I hoped not, not liking the thought that if she had been, she might have had the same thought I had had. No, she had been home, naked, doing laundry and cleaning - a nice vision - and then next week she was going to be on Fire Island with my sister, and at the end of the month she was going home. Fire Island: what kind of bathing suit did she have? Would she and my sister somehow agree to go naked? Of course! Martha had said that she had a couple of times – no, just topless. But they probably would, my sister's wanting to, and Martha knowing about us. If - when - they got naked, would they talk about me? They certainly had enough to share, and Martha knew it!

The short uptown blocks go fast with such thoughts and questions, and then I was only wondering how Martha would greet me when I opened the door, but first, I was just entering the building, greeting the doorman, and then in the elevator.

When I opened the door, she called "Hi" and then came to greet me, wearing a dress - another one - smiling and making me forget about my uncomfortable thoughts on the way home.

"Hello," I answered as she came closer. She chuckled and said:

"You smell like you've been in a bar."

"I have, ... three beers."

"... and a lot of cigarette smoke," she added, grinning.

"I guess so, I didn't know you could tell."

"Um-hmm," she confirmed and then said:

"Give me your jacket and I'll brush it."

"Does that help?" I asked as I took it off and handed it to her.

"Some," she replied and went off with it, while it occurred to me that I probably hadn't heard about that before, since no one smoked in our family, and we seldom went to bars like that one; my parents, never.

Martha returned with my jacket after I had gone to the bathroom and was beginning to change, hanging it on my chair while I appreciated that there was something especially attractive about her simple dress; not so much the dress, but the way it fit her when she moved. It wasn't tight, but it seemed to accentuate her strong thighs - certainly didn't hide them. Then it occurred to me that artists and cartoonists drew dresses fitting that way, but in reality they seldom did. Martha noticed me looking at her and smiled and explained:

"I went out, got some more beer, and then it seemed too ..." and she looked questioningly: "... too 'something' to take it off again."

I nodded, and she went on:

"Just as well, your mother called again, saying that we should be there for lunch. I would have felt funny if I had been naked, talking to her."

I nodded again with a snort, and Martha grinned and said:

"Oh, you probably felt that way when she called this morning."

"I sure did," I agreed, grinning back at her:

"... and good that you got the beer, thanks."

Martha nodded with a smile and explained:

"Yes, this time, I wondered if the doorman would notice and brought it back hidden in a bag from Macy's."

"Good idea, he probably would have, and noticed that no one else is here. If you want, we can get some on Sunday for you to have on the island."

She snorted with a quick smile and then told me that my mother had also said that she could use the car on the island, if it was really necessary, but that they would prefer that she didn't. By then, I had finished changing, and we left my room. "My sister will find a reason to go out," I remarked as we went to the kitchen.

It wasn't eight o'clock yet, and apparently after the beers and chips from the bar I didn't want a snack before dinner, and our conversation hadn't gone in that direction either, even though I had changed my slacks. Martha had already started to prepare the leftovers, and she had also started on a beer, glancing at me apologetically when she saw that I noticed the can.

"I didn't want you to get too far ahead of me," she remarked with a grin.

"I'll slow down for you," I replied, then thinking that was an unintentional but slightly witty way to indicate that I didn't want another beer immediately.

As Martha finished heating up the meal, she snorted to herself and then remarked:

"The nice thing about doing the laundry that way is that you can do everything, know that absolutely all your clothes are clean. It always seems a little frustrating, doing it and knowing that what you have on isn't clean, like especially when you go on a trip, not wanting wear the same underwear, but also not wanting to leave it behind."

She glanced at me for my response, and I chuckled in agreement, able to appreciate the situation, although I had never done my own laundry till I was in college.

"I wish I could have helped you," I remarked: "... or at least have watched."

She smiled in response as she started to dish up, and then asked if we wanted to eat in the dining room, "since we're all dressed up."

So we did, and I lit the candles again, which reminded her to tell that she had bought new ones: "the same kind," which in turn reminded me that I wanted to pay her back for them and the beer, but it didn't seem the right time to mention that, making me wish that I had given her money for them before hand.

Then I did get a beer, and she another one, in glasses, and we sat down. For a moment, I wondered if she was wanting to say grace again. She seemed to hesitate before picking up her knife and fork, and I would have liked it if she had, but then she just smiled at me with a nod, as though she understood, and then snorted slightly and said:

"I can't even say I hope you enjoy it; we've had it already."

"But I will," I assured her, and we began eating.

Of course, we skaaled, and then I told her about my experience in the bar, having to adapt my story in midstream from just drinking with the girl to making it a group toast, but Martha liked that I had remembered and appreciated her feelings, and asked about the group. I told her, relating my impressions, and she chuckled. When I had finished, she skaaled me, and then after a moment changed the subject.

"What do you think your sister will ask ...? You know, ... about us?"

"Good question. You're right; she probably will, ... or will be wondering. Certainly she will be wondering. It's not a question of what she will ask, but rather, if she will ask."

Martha nodded, and I had another bite, and then went on:

"You can tell her whatever you want. She probably would like to know that we have. If she asks, she will be thinking that we must have, ... and probably won't believe that we haven't - no matter what you say."

"That's sort of what I thought. I was thinking about it today."

"Um-hmm, and if you say so, ... Oh, tell her; she won't mind, said she knew I was going to be with other girls. If she asks, she'll think more of you for being honest."

"Hmm! I hope so, if she asks. ... Hmm? If she knows we have - even assumes it - will she think ...?"

"We've talked about her? Oooh! I don't know, hadn't thought of that. ... What do you think?"

"We have. She knows you a lot longer than I do, ... that way too. I'd better assume that she does think so."

"I think you're right, ... sort of like talking about your brother. ... Hmm! You wanted to tell me about him. ... Maybe she - if she knows about us - will want to ..., like it if she can talk with you. ... I have.

Martha nodded with a slight smile as I continued:

"Yes, if you talk about it, tell her that, that I thought that it was nice - good - to be able to talk with you, ... dream and all."

"Hmm, thank you."

"No, thank you!"

Martha smiled understandingly with nod and the then replied:

"It will be interesting."

Then she snorted with a smile and replied brightly:

"Oh, I know, if it comes to that, ... maybe if she just tells me, I can say that I did with my brother, too, putting me in the same situation: understanding - and I do - and having to keep the same secret."

"Hmmm!" I snorted with a smile and nod and added:

"She would like that; we talked about whether many other siblings did it. But you'd better be prepared for more questions then."

Martha snorted softly and returned my smile and nod as she replied:

"I've got a start, but I'd rather like not having to make up a story. ... I could just say that we did it once, and then didn't do it again. Yes, that would suggest it doesn't have to happen again."

I nodded, liking her idea and agreed:

"That's a nice idea ... - before or after your first time? She'd want to know about that, too."

Martha chuckled with a nod and replied:

"Yes, I guess so. This will be interesting. ... I don't know. My first time was too good not to stay being my first time, and wouldn't make sense if it weren't. I guess I won't go that far, ... just what really happened, ... if we talk about it at all."

I nodded, and offered a skaal, and she responded with a nice smile and nod, and then we finished our meal in silence, just exchanging glances.

I said: "Takk for maten," and raised my glass, and she replied: "Vel bekomme," and we drank, finishing our beers. Then we cleared the table and blew out the candles and cleaned up the kitchen, both of us silent, like after our first dinner. And again it seemed like we were anticipating what would follow, but that it wasn't so clear just what that would be, and it occurred to me that I needed to shower and shave, but I didn't want to mention it too suggestively.

Then I remembered my question about what kind of bathing suit Martha had, and asked her. She looked pleased that I had broken our silence with a change of subject, smiling as she answered:

"Oh, I've a got a bikini and a one-piece one, conservative enough, but I've grown since I got it. That was the summer after I had to start wearing bras, but it's jersey and stretches."

"You can give me a fashion show."

She nodded with a chuckle as I realized that we had found away to get out of our clothes - her clothes, at least - and then I added: "While I shower."

She nodded again with a grin.

As we went back to her room, I was wondering if we should take the other candelabra with us, but didn't want to suggest candlelight in her bedroom at that moment, and she let me go into the bathroom alone, turning to find her bathing suits as I started to take off my clothes, finding it a little strange to be there alone.

"Which one first?" she called as I got into the tub and pulled the shower curtain across.

"The older one," I replied, and then was quickly showering and peeing again.

"Here, look," she said a minute or two later.

I stuck my head outside the curtain and saw her standing in a one piece suit that did indeed look like it had been bought when she was a little younger, something like what girls on swimming teams wear.

"Nice, ... something Mother would approve of."

Martha smiled impishly and started to slip off the straps, but then turned and left, and I shaved under the shower.

It seemed like it was taking her too long to change, but then she was back, saying:

"Look again," and I did.

This time she had on a bikini more like the one my Diotima had had: just triangles over her breasts and a low-cut bottom. I remarked:

"Even nicer. But Mother would not approve, at least not on my sister."

"She's your mother and won't see it. Oh, and if I want to sunbathe without it, what will your sister think?"

"She'll be wanting to, maybe suggest it herself."

"That's good."

"Might to lead to more talk, however."

Martha nodded with a grin, and then I was finishing shaving as I heard her raise the lid of the toilet and then faintly heard her using it as I turned off the shower. After a moment, she offered: "Here's your towel," and handed it to me past the curtain, and I started to dry myself as she flushed, wondering a little that we both seemed to have agreed to delay being nude together for as long as possible, but it couldn't be for much longer, and her using the toilet suggested that she could have taken off her bikini by then. It didn't seem likely that she would expect me to open the curtain with my towel wrapped around me.