Uncovering Maggie

by KT Morrison

  Whatever it was that had transpired within the halls of Winslow it seemed to be powerful. Maggie trotted down the steps, down to the concrete walk, weaving in between the other bustling students. When she came to a clear space, she stopped. He saw that her cheeks were rosy, her face flushing, her mouth agape. She stared to the sky. Then she bent over with her hands on her knees and he swore that she was hyperventilating.

  Max was hidden behind the trunk of a beech tree, hands in pockets, collar of his duffel coat turned up. It was cold out today, and he huddled in his coat. He had the urge to just end this. Wanted to cross the walk and support her like he always had before. But then she would know she’d been followed. Her creepy Max up to his subterfuge.

  His behavior, he realized, was the kind of thing that one could grow tired of. So his heart swelled in his chest while he watched her from a distance. Then she transformed. The hyperventilation ceasing, her body straightening. She smoothed her palms over her cheeks, blinking away tears. Her mouth, still agape, turned into a smile. He could tell she was sniffing, then it became a laugh. Now he felt better, wished again that he could just go to her. Sharing the good news and the bad. That’s all he ever wanted. She hopped up and down three times, enough that he could hear the clap of her heels across the distance that separated them. She wiped at her brow with the back of her sleeve, then pumped her fist three times as she began striding the path, fishing her phone from a pocket and tapping away.

  He followed along behind her at a safe distance until she stopped at the edge of the park where it met the main thoroughfare from the village into campus. She sat down on a metal bench and fiddled with her phone. Max wandered the path, wary of getting too close. Realized then that: Well, hey, he was on campus. He was a student at Farmingham. He was just walking along and he saw her.

  Look, here he was lying again. But he wanted to be back in her life. He’d excised himself, not even twelve hours now and he was dying without her. So he picked up his pace and he strode in a straight line towards the bench, practicing his startled Hi! What are you doing here?

  As he drew near, a taxicab pulled up to the curb and she rose, trotted quickly to the rear passenger side and jumped in. He pivoted a hundred-and-eighty degrees and walked the opposite way, huddled deeper into his coat and flipped up its hood. The taxicab passed along on his left hand side and he turned his face away.

  Max mounted the three steps to the first floor balcony of the Twilight, paper bag over his forearm with four pre-made Altieri’s Deluxe Meat Lover’s pizza slices inside.

  His lies had to stop. Whatever elliptical pattern his current relationship with Maggie took, putting it back in proper orbit required brutal honesty. On his part, primarily. First things first, he had to apologize to Cole. The insult he hurled last night begged for a punch in the stomach and while he didn’t like it, he appreciated the lesson. He’d done things to poison others against Cole and he didn’t deserve what Max had said.

  Hung from the handle of the door to their room was a DO NOT DISTURB card with a polite looking hand held up to halt. Three doors to his right a housekeeping cart was parked outside an open room. Latin music bashed quietly from a portable radio propped next to a tub with a feather duster fanned out the top. Syncopated underneath and out of time with the music he heard high moans gasping behind the door to Room 7. Guts turned to lead he swiped his room card through the lock and entered despite the card’s instruction. He knew what he would find.

  He slipped in sneakily and let the door close behind him. Maggie and Cole were making love in the bed. He’d just seen her fifteen minutes ago on campus, fully clothed and made up. On the floor, between Max and the bed, lay Maggie’s clothing. Leather loafers, one laying on its side, leggings pulled inside out, shirt, skirt, sweater, panties and bra; all making a trail to where two naked figures lay conjoined on the bed.

  Cole lay on his back and Max’s fiancée straddled his hips, her back toward the door so Max could see where she was skewered by his best friend’s tremendous girth. It must’ve felt pretty good because she made ecstatic, joyous noises. Gasping “Yes, yes, yes,” as she bounced on his cock, her haunches shaking. Maggie controlled the pace, did the fucking, while Cole looked in her eyes. Behind her head, Cole’s hands worked at releasing her braids from the bun. When they were free, hanging over her shoulders, he pried them loose by running his fingers through them while she continued to bounce and squawk on him. A thick line of sticky white cream from Maggie rung the base of Cole’s shaft and dripped down to collect on his scrotum between his sagging testicles.

  “Oh, fuck, mm,” she gasped, her head nodding forward, her bouncing stopping as she instead squeezed her thighs against his sides and swiveled. Her nails raked his chest. Cole’s hands swept her waist then palmed the globes of her ass. He slapped her cheek, making her laugh. Her hips rolled on him now like a burlesque dancer, his fat cock buried in her pussy.

  “Oh, my God, you feel so amazing,” she hissed.

  Cole said, “Mm, you feel so fucking good on me.”

  She chuckled, hips rocking, her hands rubbing over his chest and shoulders.

  Max heard her say: “Put it in my ass.”

  With his eyes on Maggie’s, Cole reached around her thigh, his thumb hooking around the base of his cock and plucking it out from inside her. It shone with wet, leaving a trail across the cheek of her ass. He stroked it up her crack, and she tilted forward and he used the pads of his fingers to push the head of his cock into her anus.

  “Oh, shit, oh, wow,” she grunted, her hair falling around Cole’s face. “Mm, that’s it.”

  Cole eased his hips up off the bed and Maggie reversed herself so he could plunge into her. It made a slick crackling sound, and they had to go slow, but Maggie let out a long, pleasured sigh.

  “Okay, mm, okay, hold it …” Maggie grunted and sat upright and Max watched Cole’s cock disappear up inside her. She squashed right down so she sat on him. Cole stroked her thighs, eyes glued to her, then smoothing up her ribs to cover her breasts. Maggie’s nipples were hard, extended buds.

  Max was crushed. Everything about this was awful. His heart hurt despite the arousal he felt between his legs. This was all too much now. They’d gone too far, and he’d allowed it. Racing a high-horsepower car on a wet, cliff-side road, all that protected him from death was a flimsy aluminum guardrail. Now he was plummeting.

  He watched as Cole put his hand between them, in the ‘V’ of her parted thighs, his palm upward. Max knew he was fingering her while he fucked her ass. His best friend had his cock up inside his fiancée, his fingers curled up inside her pussy, and the most hurtful…? ... The blazing eye contact between the two of them.

  Maggie leaned back, her hands walking down Cole’s thighs and holding onto his knees, her twisted, tangled, half-braided hair swaying behind her. Her chin pointed up to the ceiling and Max saw her beautiful face. She was in ecstasy. Cole’s shoulder muscles jumped as he flicked and buzzed Maggie’s clit, his two middle fingers shoved inside her. Max watched his lover’s face as her mouth fell open, watched as her tummy rolled and bulged and heaved, her hips rocking, her breath coming faster and faster and then she came. He dropped the pizza on the floor.

  “Oh, Jesus Christ,” Cole said seeing him now standing by the door. “This fucking …”

  Maggie was still coming, her face troubled but pleasured, wincing and snarling, her breasts shaking. Cole watched Max, and he was mad.

  Max crossed the room in five steps to stand next to the bed. Looked down and saw his best friend’s neck and face smattered with mouth prints in the shade of lipstick that his Maggie had applied this morning. His chest bore furry red lines from where she had scratched him while they fucked. His friend was flush, his chest sweaty and reddened. Maggie’s as well, her creamy bosom blossomed with rose. Her eyes fluttered, and she registered that the man to whom she was betrothed was here.

  “Max,” she gasped. “Max … Oh, ah, mm, I won, Max, I ...”

  Cole said,
“Max—what the fuck …? Get out of here …”

  Maggie’s hips still moiled and he could hear a wet sucking sound from where they were connected. Her eyes were glassy, and she gasped his name again, a hand reaching out to touch him.

  Cole said, “Max, come on, go, get out of here ...”

  Max said, “I will. I’ll get out of here after I get what I came for.”

  Max was in motion before he’d made the decision to act. Yet he knew now what he would do.

  Cole propped himself up on his elbows, said, “What’s that?”

  Max took Maggie’s wrist as she reached to him, pressed his thumb into the centre of her palm and it curled her fingers. He saw the ring he and his brothers had gone out that special day in Michigan and purchased. He got down on one knee by the gazebo in the village, presented it to her and asked her to marry him. She said Yes, a thousand times yes. He was in love with her and he was sure she was in love with him. But it couldn’t be like this. Not like this. His fingers circled the ring, the sharp edges of the diamond digging into the webbing of his thumb.

  Maggie resisted, her eyes going from glassy to alert in an instant. “Shit, no, no, Max!” She pulled her hand, but he held her by the wrist and tugged at the ring. She fought him, grabbing his shirt with her other hand, pleading with him: “Max, Maxy, don’t be crazy, Max, don’t, please, Max ... don’t, Max, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, God, I mean it …”

  He was grim and voiceless. He focused everything on the object he wished to retrieve. Maggie fell off Cole, his wet dick slapping up on his belly.

  Cole said, “Don’t fight, Maggie, just let him ...”

  “No, Max, seriously, Max, that’s my ring ... don’t take my beautiful ring …”

  He had it now, it was up past her knuckle. She began to cry, tears coming down her cheeks, her face beet red in an instant, her nose shiny, lips puffed.

  “Please, Max, I’m begging you, don’t …”

  “Don’t fight, Maggie,” Cole said, and he held her by her waist, sitting up now. The ring came free, clutched in his hand. He looked down on them. These two lovers. His handsome best friend and the girl he loved deeply. Arm in arm, embracing, naked, flushed from sex, wet with excitement.

  The ring pressed against his flesh he clutched it so hard. He crushed harder until his hand shook.

  Maggie bawled. Burst into tears, fell forward and Cole had to hold her before she collapsed on the carpet.

  “Easy, Maggie, easy,” Cole soothed her.

  She wailed into her hands and Max cried, too. He’d wanted to hurt her. Wanted to hurt her so bad, and this was the only thing he could think of. It felt so good in the moment. It still felt good.

  Cry. Cry for me, Maggie. Feel what it’s like without me.

  He turned on his heel and left them. Marched past the pizza slices he dropped on the floor, the lunch he’d intended to share when he would sit with Cole and say he was sorry. But it was all gone now. All of it. He opened the door, slammed it behind him. Walked out into the crisp noontime cold.

  By the time he was down the steps and halfway across the parking lot he realized his heart was broken. He knew he just made the biggest mistake of his life.

  Afterword

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