The Pragmatist

When we snuggled into her bed – naked – she gave me a washcloth and whispered "Put this in your mouth. The walls are thin, but I'm going to treat you to a special form of entertainment. These cuffs are so you don't get carried away and end up squeaking the mattress springs," she continued as she pulled out two pairs of handcuffs, and affixed each of my wrists to the bed frame.

With a wicked smile on her face Arukas then pulled the top sheet back, started sucking my cock, and after it quickly hardened to flagpole rigidity slowly and gently buried it in her pussy. "Just lie there," she muttered as she almost didn't move her pelvis or thighs at all, but simply by squeezing and releasing her pc muscles had me emptying my balls into her restless pussy in less than five minutes. She bit on her own washcloth as we orgasmed simultaneously.

I was essentially comatose. I barely remember her removing the handcuffs from my wrists and the washcloth from my mouth before I was in dreamland – and for the first time in my life my reality was better than my dreams possibly could be!

***************

At college our senior year while we didn't live together Arukas and I went to virtually all events together, usually arm-in-arm, or at least holding hands. We also had "slumber parties" with each other two or three times a week, each one more rewarding than the last. Before the first party/dance of the new school year that we went to, however, Arukas wanted to have a talk with me. It was early Friday evening when I picked her up with the intention of going to a movie. She sat me down in the living area of the three bedroom dorm suite that she shared with two other senior girls, two of the three (including June) from the beach house.

"Brett, you have no doubt that I'm your girlfriend now – do you?"

"Absolutely no doubt – girlfriend," I smiled.

"When we go to the party tomorrow night, where there will be drinking and dancing, I want to make sure that you don't exhibit the bad traits of eros, one of the forms of love that I believe that you are consumed with," she said with a pleasant but serious face.

"And what traits would those be?" I cautiously asked.

"Other guys will want to dance with me – and I will dance with them. I might actually dance every single dance the entire evening. I'll dance with you every time that you want me to, but you won't want to stay on the dancefloor for the entire evening like I will. So – no jealousy, envy, spite, or angst, when I dance with others. It will just be a mild form of ludus – there will be no sex, and 99% of the time I'm entirely capable of dissuading groping by myself– I've done it for years."

"Uh...well...uh...OK," I stammered, probably blushing.

"If the 1% of time that I'm not successful comes up I promise to call upon you and then, if you are so inclined, you can kick the shit out of the guy," she grinned.

Arukas never swears, so it made an impression on me.

"Agreed?" she asked, pulling my head toward hers and giving me a quick tender kiss on the lips.

"Agreed," I replied, drawing her in for a less quick but still tender kiss.

"You know – suddenly I don't want to go to the movies," she chuckled. "Take me to bed and let's see how many orgasms that you can give me," she mumbled, sticking her tongue into my ear.

Before I left the next morning the total – as far as I could tell because I tried to count although she didn't seem able to – was twenty four orgasms, sixteen by tongue or fingers, eight by cock. I had two draining orgasms myself, shockingly – because I didn't think that it could get better – in quality even surpassing those at the beach house.

On Saturday I psyched myself up for the dance party. I vowed that I would not act like a caveman – or even the attack lacrosse player that I was – but would take Arukas' words to heart.

I did pretty well at the dance for the first hour or so. I danced with Arukas about half the time, and as she had informed me on Friday she danced with others the other half, probably a half dozen different guys. Halfway through the next hour a guy she was dancing with kept trying to grab her ass. She skillfully deterred him, but he was persistent. I felt steam blowing out of my ears, and unconsciously I had balled up my fists and I know that my blood pressure had skyrocketed.

Arukas must have noticed my predicament – probably because I started walking toward her with fire in my eyes – and deflected the creep's hand one more time and then quickly scurried over to me, threw her arms around my neck, and planted a sizzling kiss on my lips.

Some of the anger – but not all – was sucked out of me by her Jessica Alba-like lips. "You're really doing well, Brett. Don't let that creep push you over the edge. On the next attempted ass grab I would have kneed him in the balls," she giggled.

The rest of the party continued without incident, although it was rough on me when she had a good time dancing with other guys.

I was able to rein in my eros for the rest of the school year, and my relationship with Arukas was ideal – better than I ever imagined a relationship could be. While of course we had disagreements, our pragma always led to compromise or happy and reasoned capitulation. We had a good time in all of our outings, exemplifying the epitome of the ludus-type of love. Our two or three matings per week blossomed into four or five, my reined-in eros and her passion providing the ultimate in sexual happiness and satisfaction.

In keeping with her practical nature, after a co-ed pickup soccer game (we were both terrible, but it didn't spoil our fun) on the main quad, as we sipped fruit juices sitting on a bench just outside the quad, Arukas asked, in her typical playful manner, "So, Brett – or should I call you Ronaldo after that last goal that you scored?"

"I think that Ronaldo was probably better than I am now when he was four years old, so 'Brett' will do fine Carli Lloyd," I shot back with a poke to her ribs.

"OK – dude," she laughed, "what are your plans after graduation?"

I paused for a moment. While she was being playful I knew that this was a serious conversation to her – it was to me too, allowing me the chance to express what I had been thinking for at least the last six months. "I'm thinking of marrying the woman of my dreams and getting a job in Tampa."

"Have you asked this dreamboat yet?" she inquired between sips of her juice.

"Not yet."

"Why not?"

"I thought I should have enough money to buy her a nice ring before I asked – and I don't have much right now. Plus I'm nervous that because she's such a goddess that she won't accept," I continued, also between sips of juice. "What's your view on my outlook?"

"Do you really and truly love this goddess – eros, ludus, and pragma?"

"Absolutely!"

"Have you had sex with her?"

"Often."

"Is it acceptable?"

"No – it is toe-curling phenomenal, so far beyond 'acceptable' that it is in a different universe!"

"Does she seem to love you too?"

I finally paused before firing off a reply, noticing that Arukas was fiddling with her now empty bottle of juice. "Yes – unless she is the best actress in the world, I do believe that she loves me."

"Then from the practical standpoint isn't it silly that you would wait to be able to afford a ring to ask her to marry you. Maybe she'd be happy with just an aluminum foil one," Arukas grinned. Then from a pocket that I didn't even know that she had she produced a piece of foil deformed into a roughly shaped ring.

I gulped hard, took the aluminum foil from her, got down on a knee and asked "Arukas, could you make me the happiest guy on the planet and agree to marry me?"

"Slip that expensive ring on my finger then I'll tell you," she cackled as she held out her left hand with fingers widely separated.

I did.

She said "Yes!"

We kissed feverishly, ignoring the ripe smells emanating from our sweat-soaked bodies.

******************

Arukas and I both worked part time jobs the last few weeks of college because we wanted to get married within a month or so after graduation. Neither set of parents could afford a big reception but that really made no difference because Arukas – being her normal pragmatic self – insisted that we get married at the county courthouse, and have a pizza and beer party in a forest preserve picnic area as the reception, with music provided by an iPhone connected up to some battery-powered speakers.

Our wedding ceremony was witnessed only by my parents and younger sister and her parents, older sister, and two younger brothers, and my Uncle Earl. At the reception there were about thirty mutual friends, and a few other aunts and uncles, in addition to our immediate families. The reason that Uncle Earl – my mom's older brother and a widower with no kids of his own – was at the wedding ceremony was because his wedding present – $5,000 cash – was allowing Arukas and I to start out life in an apartment of our own.

During the reception – where as usual Arukas danced virtually every dance – my Mom made a strange comment to me. "You know, that courthouse marriage service is a lot different than the church weddings I've been to."

"How so?" I asked; I barely got through the service upright I was so nervous not because I had second thoughts but because I still couldn't believe that an awesome woman like Arukas would marry me, so I had little to no recollection of what was said.

"Well, while it did have 'love, honor, and cherish,' it didn't have 'forsaking all others' or 'till death do us part.'"

"Couldn't prove it by me," I replied. Then Mom immediately pulled me out on the dance floor and nothing more was said about the ceremony by anyone.

*****************

Married life with Arukas was better than I had a right to expect. We didn't make a lot of money, but our lives were so rich in every way that the lack of every possible material possession was irrelevant to both of us. I worked as a stock broker, and Arukas as a dance instructor. Many people think that stockbrokers make scads of money, and some – especially on Wall Street – do. However in Tampa, and other cities like it, the mean is around $45,000 - $50,000 a year, a living wage but not allowing much savings.

My parents always lived in an apartment when I was growing up (I went to college on a lacrosse scholarship), and Arukas' family only "graduated" to the small house that they lived in when I visited after their oldest daughter left home. Arukas attended college on a partial scholarship based upon need, and by getting student loans. Both of us really wanted to get a detached house of our own – and nicer than her parents' house – but our combined incomes plus paying off her student loans didn't allow for much savings. Giving Arukas' practical nature there was no way that we would try to buy a house until we could afford one.

After we had been married a couple of years Arukas, who was only making about $25,000 a year as a dance instructor, told me about a new organization that had approached her dance studio about providing companions for older single guys attending charity balls or other events. She completely explained the circumstances to me. "They pay the studio $800 for the event, and I get $650 of that amount. It is only from about 6:30 – 10:30 each event, and I get cab fare or limousine service free both ways. I want you to feel comfortable about it so you will be invited to all events too, although we will not interact during the event except for maybe one or two dances. I need to do this if we can have any hope of paying off my loans and getting a house."

I had no problem with it. By then I was very used to Arukas dancing with other guys and knowing her pragmatic approach to things I couldn't have thought up a good counter argument even if there was one.

The next year Arukas averaged three events a month, and averaged $100 tips in addition to the $650 form the dance studio. I went to the first six events with her, and then one or two more over the next year, but to be honest they were boring events for me. Her "dates" spent a lot of time on the dance floor with Arukas, but didn't act possessive and weren't particularly handsy. She only reported one problem to me during that first year – a guy who got drunk and who she had to knee in the balls – but it was more funny than traumatic for her, and the dance studio gave her a $250 bonus for that night for her trouble.

Her escort work at charity events didn't really cut into our time together that much since it was only about three times a month, and it had no adverse effect whatsoever on our relationship. In fact, if anything, it improved it because Arukas – though never in a "bad" mood – was even more upbeat than normal since she felt that she was pulling her weight monetarily.

With the extra money that Arukas brought in, plus an unexpected $5,000 bonus that I got at Christmas of the previous year, on our fourth wedding anniversary Arukas went over our finances carefully with me and determined that we could afford a detached house. We went looking the next weekend and got lucky and found a medium sized house only about two kilometers from her sister's house, and in the same development. Her sister Justina (a normal Lithuanian female name, not a weird one like "Arukas") and her husband Bill had lived there since before we got married. They had no kids.

I really got involved in home ownership. I found that I enjoyed landscaping, fixing things up, building bookcases, installing crown and chair molding, and lots of other related endeavors, and that I had acumen for doing those things in addition to interest. Even though Arukas also liked being a home owner she was happier that I was happy than for herself.

After Arukas and I had been married a little more than six years, in both of our views we had a fantastic life. We shared every type of love imaginable – ludus, pragma, passionate, and companionate – whatever labels people have wanted to put on them. Maybe we were even demonstrating that true love wasn't a myth. Our sex life was particularly ideal; we had ultra high quality love making about three times a week, and one intense animal fuck about every other week. We never refused each other sex.

Arukas was an expert at keeping things exciting; once every two weeks or so she'd dream up some sort of game or activity. Just three examples:

-Sometimes I would come home from work and all the lights in the house would be off. There would be a laser tag vest and gun hanging on a coat rack immediately inside the house from the garage. A note would be clipped to the vest that would say "First person killed three times makes dinner," or "Any person with three kills without sustaining a kill themselves gets any sexual favor they want," or something similar.

-Other times there would be a note on the garage door. "If you find me on our property within fifteen minutes of opening the door I'm your slave tonight – fail and you're mine," or "A vibrator is hidden on our property; if you come inside holding it before the buzzer goes off you can do anything that you want to do to me with it; otherwise I get to use it on you!"

-Still other times there would be a blindfold hanging on the inside garage door knob with a note on it. "Put this on, find me, and tell me what outfit that I have on by feel alone and get a special treat; fail and I get the treat."

I often tried to reciprocate but my games were rarely as creative as hers.

******************

Into every life some rain must fall, however. We got hit by a thunderous rainstorm when the stock market tanked and I got laid off. I scrambled around for other jobs, but ended up only being a glorified handy man, with a significant blow to our resources and my ego.

Arukas took it in stride; "We'll find a way to keep the house," she insisted. Not only did we both truly like being homeowners but the real estate market was down too so we couldn't afford to sell our house because if we did we'd either make nothing on it, or would be "underwater."

Because of Arukas' practical nature she always had handled the finances for us. Unless I asked direct questions about them – in keeping with her personality since I met her – I'd never get much worthwhile information. However, she led me to believe – although in all honesty I have to say that she never directly came out and definitively said any of these things – that her student loans had been paid off, we could renegotiate our mortgage to get a lower monthly payment, and things at the dance studio were moving along. What I do know is that despite my income being cut in half (or some months less) no one was threatening to kick us out of our house, we still ate well, and aside from forgoing occasional dinners out, movies, or concerts, we were not suffering.

One thing that was for sure; there was no loss of pragmatic optimism on Arukas' part and our love was not impacted adversely in any way. In fact, since I was around the house a few hours a week more, we averaged an additional two or three ultra high quality sex sessions a month.

It was about eighteen months after I had been laid off, and I was still looking for other stock broker jobs and even investigating other careers including by enhancing my computer skills by taking inexpensive courses at the local community college, when I got the mail in from the mailbox early one afternoon. A course session at the community college had been canceled and I couldn't go to a handyman job that I had lined up until later than afternoon.

Normally Arukas got the mail in, and even when I did I never even opened the bills or like envelopes since she handled that. However the return address on one envelope indicated that it was from the Tampa U. S. Bankruptcy Court; that piqued my curiosity.

I opened up the envelope from the Court and to my shock it contained information about the dance studio that Arukas worked for. It had declared bankruptcy months ago, and as far as my non-legal mind could determine the assets were being sold to pay creditors since it was out of business. The reason that we got the notice was because Arukas was a creditor since she never received her last two week paycheck.

I was flabbergasted.

I tried to call Arukas' cell phone but it went straight to voice mail.

I called her sister Justina and had a bizarre conversation with her that really didn't answer any questions that I had but only left me with the promise that if Justina talked to Arukas before she was due home at 6:00 p. m. that she would tell Arukas to call me.

I drove by the dance studio – which I normally never had any reason to go past, and which was in a back portion of a shopping center not visible from the main street – and found it essentially boarded up.

I was so distracted that it took me almost twice as long to perform the handyman job that I had scheduled for that afternoon than it should have. Fortunately I didn't injure myself. When I got home it was clear than Arukas had only beaten me by a few minutes.

Arukas greeted me with her normal zealous hug and kiss. Although I'm sure that I was giving out bemused vibes she ignored them. "I understand that you called Justina today looking for me; sorry that I had my cell phone off. Is there a problem?" she said/asked with her arms still around my neck and my hands on her hips.

"Yes, Hon; there was a letter in the mail today from a bankruptcy court saying that the studio you work – or rather worked – at is out of business, and I drove by it and confirmed that it is; and that you never got your last check. How are you affording to make the house payments, and keeping us financially solvent?

Arukas got a half-smile on her face; not a happy smile but more of an understanding one, then said "Let's go into the living room and talk."