by H R Jones
“Ooooo, that sounds so romantic,” she cooed.
He ordered their drinks and asked they be served on the patio. The glider was still vacant. As they sat quietly, Milo stretched out his left arm, placing it gently over and around her shoulder.
Margo, without hesitation, moved into the crook of his arm with a long sigh.
Their drinks arrived and they nestled in the glow of the tangerine sun as it slowly began to sink into the ripple-less calm of Rock Port Lake.
“You know what I’d like to do, Margo?”
She tilted her head up, gazing into his deep brown eyes. “What would you like to do?” she said in her sexiest voice.
“I’d like to take you out there on the lake in my boat and just spend the day lying on the deck, talking, having a few drinks, and, you know…”
“I’d like that a lot,” she cooed.
“Are you available Sunday afternoon?”
“I’m available any time you want me to be,” she said as she snuggled closer to him.
All that remained of the blazing sun was a sliver just above the horizon. One could imagine the sound it might make, if it could, as it slid into the cool waters of the lake.
Milo eased Margo closer as he leaned into her. Not able to resist another minute, he leaned in and kissed her passionately, then whispered something in her ear.
She giggled, “Oooo, Milo, you rascal, you.” She returned his kiss, her fingers caressing him gently, his breath hot on her ear.
“Margo honey,” he said, breathing heavily, “Let’s get out of here.” He took her by the hand, helping her out of the low slung swing.
She followed Milo back to his house.
“Oh, Margo,” he gasped, as she took him, physically, to a place he’d never been, never experienced. She made him feel young again. He didn’t want the evening to end.
Exhausted, sated and fulfilled, Margo collapsed, as he gently caressed her.
Ten
Margo was flabbergasted and happy as a pig in mud when out of the blue, Milo proposed, even though they’d only known each other a few short months. She hadn’t been that giddy since high school when she and Bill were dating.
They were a good match, Margo and Milo. He loved her, and fine gems. She loved the wonderful gems he bestowed upon her, and Milo, in that order.
Milo called his children to tell them their happy news, hoping they’d be able to attend the wedding. They were happy for him, they said. They knew he’d been very sad and lonely since their mother died. Of course, they’d love to come, but wouldn’t be able to make it for the wedding with their work schedules, kids’ school, sitters and all, but “So happy for you, Dad.”
~ * ~
Milo and Margo opted to have a small ceremony in front of the Justice of the Peace in Port Rock. They went to The Deck after their ceremony for a quiet lunch.
Their honeymoon took them up through Northern Wisconsin to the UP, Upper Peninsula, of Michigan. Taking their time, they wandered some of the back roads, stopping in quaint little towns, which were no more than a dot on the map, but filled with lovely little shops, and restaurants with ‘like home cooked’ meals, and they also managed to visit the occasional casino.
When they arrived in St. Ignace, Michigan, they parked their car in a secure lot and rode the ferry to Mackinac Island. They looked forward to spending several nights at the famous Grand Hotel.
Their days were filled taking breakfast on the veranda, touring the island in a horse drawn carriage, swimming in the legendary pool of the historic hotel, and in the evenings dining in the fabulous dining room. After dinner they’d stroll out onto the veranda for an after dinner cocktail, as they nestled together watching the flickering lights from the mainland in the distance and enjoying the lovely summer breezes.
During their honeymoon, they took time to make some decisions, like where they’d make their home. They chose to live in Margo’s house, even though it would be a bit of a drive for Milo every day. He agreed to cut back a little at work, and also to close the store on Mondays and evenings, except Fridays.
~ * ~
Though their marriage was a bit unconventional in some people’s eyes, it was filled with love. They spent a lot of time together enjoying each other’s company, traveling, going to movies, and dancing. Margo went on a few of Milo’s big game hunting/camping trips. She, of course, was always dressed as if she were going to take a stroll around the block, rather than tramping through the boonies. Milo liked that she dressed like a lady even though she was wading through the briers and the brambles alongside him.
She especially enjoyed the intimacy the two shared while they were out under the stars, even though they sometimes were a part of a small, select group. Everyone respected the other participants’ space and privacy. Most evenings, after ‘chow’ they were on their own. They’d huddle together for warmth, often enjoying a cup of freshly brewed, scalding hot coffee, fresh from the fire grate, with nothing but the fire and the stars crowding out the rest of the sky in a blanket of diamonds. It was magical.
Margo planned to help out at the store during the week, when needed. It gave her a sense of belonging, and as it turned out, she was an excellent salesperson. She loved jewelry and wore it well, and seemed to have a knack for selecting just the right piece for a person looking for something special. She was especially needed on Fridays, as it seemed to be the busiest day for them, and having an extra person helped when one or the other needed a break.
Even though they’d gotten off to a rocky start, Margo and Jillian became close friends. Jillian was closer to Margo’s age and one of the few female friends she’d ever cultivated.
It was fun sharing confidences with each other as though they were school girls. Margo learned all about Jillian’s many boyfriends as well as her failed marriage. It was enough for them to be able to bond over their past experiences.
~ * ~
The one time Margo didn’t accompany Milo on one of his trips was the one time she should have gone along.
After tracking big game, one day, Milo felt ill. He told the others in his party to continue on, that he’d see them later…he would head back to camp. They were reluctant to leave him to return alone, but he assured them he was fine, just a bit of an upset stomach.
The hunting party found Milo later in the day, as they returned. He was slumped over in a heap about a mile from camp. He was dead.
Margo was devastated and didn’t know how she’d be able to go on without him.
Her biggest concern became trying to run the jewelry store. Luckily Jillian wanted to stay on, and offered to take on some extra hours. She was not only a good salesperson, but she was honest, and knew quite a bit about the jewelry business. Honesty trumped brains any day, in Margo’s book.
At some point Margo would need to find a suitable buyer, a partner, or liquidate the store.
Eleven
She’d begun using prescription drugs after Milo’s death. She’d become so distraught, nervous, and finding it impossible to eat or sleep, she’d become dependent on pills. Her doctor had prescribed sleeping pills for those nights she couldn’t sleep, and anti-anxiety pills to help her make it through the days she couldn’t get out of bed or function. She’d become so dependent on the narcotics, her physician eventually refused to prescribe them for her any longer. She wasn’t addicted, as such, but wanted them on hand when she needed them.
After some discreet asking around at the casino one evening when she was with her mother, she was told to contact “Mr. D.” He’d be willing to supply her with whatever drugs she needed.
She’d meet him at the casino in a prearranged location and he’d hand her a key. After a respectable amount of time, she’d slip away from her mother saying, “Here’s money for a taxi, Mom. I met an old friend. I don’t know what time I’ll be home, so don’t wait up, ok?”
Her mother would nod, taking another pull on the one armed bandit and another swig of booze.
Margo would disappear in
a fog of smoke, through the throngs of people and make her way to the bank of elevators and a ride up to the 8th floor. She’d steel herself for what would happen after she knocked on the door of the man who, for a price, would supply her with the pills she so desperately needed.
~ * ~
Several months after Milo’s death, Margo fell into a deep depression. Many nights she drank her loneliness away at McNulty’s Bar.
One evening, as Margo entered the bar, she could almost feel her body vibrate in sync to the blaring music. After her eyes adjusted to the low lights and the haze of smoke, she could make out a familiar form sitting alone at the bar. Forgetting, due to the high level of alcohol in her system, what she’d been through the last time they’d been together, she adjusted her dress, fluffed her hair, and sauntered over.
“Rory,” she exhaled in her most sultry, liquor-laced, come hither voice, as she sidled up to him.
He spun around on the bar stool at the sound of his name and hopped off. “Margo? Baby?” He did a double take.
She immediately felt the old carnal thrill as he reached for her, wrapping her in his strong, brawny embrace, twirling her around. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, baby. Come on,” he took her by the arm and guided her toward a corner booth at the back of the bar near the exit, calling over his shoulder to the bartender, “Two more of the same, Tony.”
They slid into the worn, cracked leather, wraparound booth, each searching the other’s eyes in the dim, blinking light of the exit sign. They consumed quite a bit more liquor. Their conversation soon trickled down to nothing, and was replaced by touching and fondling in the privacy of the darkened booth. Between Rory’s sensuous lips, searching kisses, and the consumption of way too much alcohol, Margo fell more and more deeply under his hypnotic spell. Desire, lust, whatever, outweighed ALL her sensibilities.
She felt his hand slither under her skirt, between her legs, inching their way up her inner thigh. She moaned with desire.
She unzipped his fly.
His bourbon-laced breath came in gasps, as she heard him whisper, “Come on, baby, let’s get out of here.”
Fully aroused, he tried desperately to retrieve his wallet from his back pocket. Fumbling, he pulled out a twenty, slapping it down on the table.
She saw him cover himself as he helped her out of the booth, and they slipped quietly and quickly out the back door.
Margo whispered in her breathiest, sexiest voice, “Want to come over to my place?”
Without hesitation he replied, “Sure, you still out in the country?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll follow you. Where’s your car?”
“Just a couple of rows over. Don’t be long,” she said, fluffing her hair.
The moment they were in the house, clothing was tossed right and left, leaving a trail from the front door to the bedroom.
Rory and Margo fell onto the bed as one. He immediately overwhelmed her. Margo was too inebriated to resist his strength and animalistic desires.
When he rolled off, hot and sweaty, she saw he was physically spent, for the moment. He was breathing heavily, panting. Margo, in a brief moment of clarity from her alcoholic fog, wondered how long it would be before he became too aggressive.
“Margo, baby, you holding?”
She was afraid. She’d forgotten about this side of Rory, or maybe she just didn’t want to remember the bad times. Her lusty lover could become overwhelmingly demanding after so much liquor. She lay there not knowing what to do. It was a mistake. She never should have asked him back to her house, but she was weak.
Then she heard him growl at her, “Come on, Margo.”
She looked at his face. It was contorted into someone she barely recognized. “I know you have something. GET IT!” he snarled.
She went to the bathroom where she kept her stash hidden in the toilet tank inside a plastic bag. As she retrieved the drugs, something she’d heard, rumors really, about Rory began to echo in her head. They’d been disturbing things. She’d poo-pooed them at the time, deciding it must be a disgruntled lover he’d cast aside. Now… now, as she stood there in the bathroom, wondering, she wasn’t so sure. Just then she was jerked back to reality when he hollered, “Are you getting the stuff, bitch?”
Margo cringed. “I’ll be right there.” She tossed a couple of the pills in her mouth, as well, hoping it would get her through whatever was to come.
As she returned to the bedroom he said, “What’ve you got for me?”
Her mind still in a fog of booze, she said, “I don’t know anymore, but I think there’s some uppers, maybe downers, and I don’t know, some funny stuff.” She forced a smile.
“Give me the funny stuff, baby.” He held out his hand.
She wasn’t even sure what some of the pills were supposed to be for, or what sort of reaction they would have. Margo knew the red pills made her feel like she was flying. She watched as he washed down two of the red pills with booze and she took another one herself.
Within minutes, the pills took effect.
Margo was so strung out, her head was beginning to spin, and her body felt disconnected from her head. It was as if she were on some wild, crazy carnival ride.
After that night, Margo really never wanted to see Rory again.
Twelve
Margo avoided McNulty’s and any other place Rory Star might show up. She knew she was addicted to him, like she’d been addicted to those drugs she’d relied on for much too long. Whenever they’d run into each other, usually after Margo was already in a weakened state, the old feelings returned. She craved him like a drug. She couldn’t stay away, nor could she say “no.”
It had been like that through the years, every time she was between husbands. As much as Margo liked men and enjoyed their company, she never strayed during her marriages. She was faithful to a fault, till either divorce or death changed her marital status.
~ * ~
Then, there was the night of the big snow storm. He called, and told her he really needed to see her; it was urgent. Margo thought maybe something terrible must have happened. It was possible he’d been in an accident, or, or… so, she agreed.
It was near mid-night before he arrived at her place.
~ * ~
Rory had a brief and, to be honest, insincere feeling of remorse for what had happened with Nell, but being with Margo made those emotions vanish like ice on a hot burner. Miss Nell had nearly gotten the best of him. He was a sucker for a sweet young virgin, but she didn’t want to play his game.
He was afraid she’d go to the cops and make a formal complaint if he didn’t do something drastic.
When Margo went to see what she could find for them to eat, Rory took the opportunity to make a harassing call to Nell, a young woman he’d taken liberties with earlier that evening.
She must really be mad, he gave a half laugh, to slam the phone down in my ear like that. What a little bitch, and after all I’ve done for her. Well, now she’s been with a real man, ‘the professor’ is probably not looking so appealing.
Rory laughed to himself, lying naked on the bed, fingers laced behind his head on the pillows, when Margo came staggering back into the bedroom with a plate of cheese, crackers, hard salami and a new bottle.
Seeing her standing there, naked, he saw what the years and the booze had done. He recalled, once again, the beauty and purity of Nell. Her skin so soft, her body taut and firm, and her eyes clear with hope. With Margo all he saw in the harsh light of day was a used up vessel. In the dark, though, he thought they all looked like movie stars. He laughed.
“Wanna share the joke?” she slurred, placing the snacks on the bedside table and sitting on the edge of the bed.
“No joke, baby, just reminiscing about last night.”
“You were with me last night,” she said, just a little piqued.
He took a piece of cheese and cracker. “Well, yes I know, but I had the pleasure of entertaining the pretty little Nell before I came here.�
�
“Huh?” She looked at him as though she was not sure what he was getting at.
He rolled over facing Margo. “You know, she’s been teasing and coming on to me, and playing hard to get? So I decided it was time to fulfill her needs, you know?” He winked at her, and continued, “It was time she learned she couldn’t keep teasing me, leading me on, and stay pure as the driven snow, if you get my drift.” He laughed at his own joke. “Sooo, I showed her what a real man needs and wants, and how he wants it. She sure was a little spit-fire, though, I’ve gotta say that for her.”
“Who are you talking about, Rory?” Even in her alcoholic stupor, Margo seemed appalled. “You don’t mean Nell Lynn, do you?”
“Yeah, and she’ll never forget last night. The night I made her a woman.”
“She’s a sweet young girl, and a virgin, not one of your whores.”
“Like you, sweetheart?” he sneered, snickering.
She knew Nell by her reputation around town as a really sweet, somewhat naïve young woman. “She’s a lady, Rory.”
Margo was concerned. She had trouble believing Nell seduced Rory. Oh, well. What do I know? She may have.
“Ah, come on Margo,” he said, “she was just an appetizer. You, sweetheart, are the main dish.”
Thirteen
John Grutner heard it from a good source: Rory Star and Margo Schwartz were still an on-again, off-again item. In lieu of what had happened to Nell Lynn, he felt he should have a talk with Margo to see if she knew anything of Rory’s whereabouts. As in, did she know where he might be hanging his hat these days?
Margo’s only infraction with the local law had been a long time ago, and really, it was just a minor dust-up with his department. It involved nothing more than a moving traffic violation.
One morning, John decided he’d run out to see her. When he arrived, the place looked deserted. Normally a neat and tidy little house and grounds, it looked as if no one lived there any longer. There was no path shoveled out, curtains were still drawn and it was late morning. He leaned on the doorbell a couple of times. No answer. He figured someone must be home, though, because he heard music blaring, even with the door closed. He leaned on the door bell again. Finally, he heard a voice hollering, “I’m comin’, hold your horses, honey.”
