This is the 3rd chapter, last of the series. Please read Ch. 1 and Ch. 2 first to get the whole picture.
Author's note: As you read this series it's worth remembering that in most everyone's life, sometimes good people do bad things, have regrets, and need redemption.
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Chapter 3
I was sitting at home in the dark on a Thursday, wallowing in self-pity of epic proportions. I had gotten home from work, thrown my suit on a chair, and put on the same loungewear -- a pair of dirty sweat pants and liquor stained t-shirt - I'd been wearing for a week. I don't remember exactly how much I drank after that, but my bottle of Jim Beam was noticeably less full than when I came home. I was starting to nod off when someone knocked on my door, rather energetically. I staggered to my feet, turned on the porch light and opened the door.
It was Marguerite Bognar, wearing a long overcoat and a pair of red high heels that looked a little too elegant for dropping in to casually visit with neighbors. I was floored.
"Maggie, what are you doing here? You're the last person I expected to see -- well, actually, that would be Darlene Fitch. Her, I don't expect to ever see again, the little whore." I drunkenly held up an index finger and waggled it at her. "But you're the second to last person, OK?" I pointed my finger at her and jabbed it for emphasis into her soft upper chest area. You *poke* specifically told me *poke * to leave *poke* you *poke* alone!" Thinking my point had been made, I stopped poking her, but continued on my semi-drunken rant. "You said it was the best for both of us! You even wrote me a fucking LETTER to tell me to leave you alone!" I then held my finger to my forehead. "I may be a little drunk, but I remember, see?"
All business, a very sober Marguerite pressed her case. "Ray, please let me come in and talk for a while. When I heard how Darlene treated you, it broke my heart. You may not know it, but I've been watching the things you do, and listening to people talk about the kind of guy you are. Seeing you fall in love with that girl tore me up. Here she is, an immature and woefully undereducated girl who's always been in lousy relationships. Then here comes you, Mr. Ray Durling, all charm and sophistication, a man who knows how to treat women, to sweep her off her feet! What does she do? She turns around and destroys you...like Arthur did to me." She took a step closer. "Please, Ray, let me in."
I drew myself up to my full height, which was about the same height as Marguerite in heels, Doing my best drunken Gandalf impersonation I imperiously intoned, "Nay! I am a Servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. You shall NOT pass!" (It was a fantastic impression, if I do say so myself.)
Marguerite rolled her eyes saying, "Well, I hoped it wouldn't come to this, but..." Unbuttoning her coat, it fell open to reveal she was completely naked underneath. After all this time, I was unexpectedly gazing upon the beauty I had hungered for (and secretly masturbated thinking about) for all those years. My eyes must have been as big as saucers at that point.
Pushing the door open, I stepped inside and made a welcoming gesture, masterfully uttering my one line from my senior year high school play, "Please enter, weary traveler!" She stepped inside, rebuttoning her coat.
She looked around my little rental house, then took me by the chin ans looked straight into my eyes. "Ray, I have to admit since you came to town, you've given people a whole lot to talk about. You got into a bar fight with a miner your first week here, fell in love with a girl everybody else thought was the town whore, beat the crap out of - and damn near killed - a drug dealer, then for nothing more than pure spite you tore down a house and built a kids' soccer field over it. Everybody in Hanson loves having you here, if for no other reason than pure entertainment value. This little town hasn't had so much to gossip about since a Deputy Sheriff ran off to Key West with the Mayor's wife in 1969."
She sat down in my reclining chair and pulled the lever to elevate her legs. She was wearing red stiletto high heels with black thigh-high stockings, the tops of which were covered by the coat. Being semi-drunk, it was hard to focus on anything other than what she had showed me, now hidden again under that trench coat; I really was trying to listen though.
I realized I was being a bad host. I bowed. "Forgive me, my dear Marguerite. Would you like a drink?"
"Vodka and tonic if you have it." I did indeed. I made her drink and brought it to her quickly, sitting in a chair across from her. I noticed her red lipstick was nice and shiny, very kissable. She looked at me, still all business. "Look, Ray, I know I asked you to keep away and I truly appreciate how you respected my wishes, but now my perspective has changed."
"Changed how?" I privately wondered what kind of perfume she was wearing -- it smelled really nice.
"The way I perceive you, mostly. When you first got here, I saw you as my ex-husband's friend and someone who was probably going to hurt me somehow or tell Arthur where I was so he could harass me himself. You tried multiple times to get me to open up to you, but I was having none of it. It was too soon after the divorce, I didn't trust you or any man, truth be told. My divorce from Arthur hurt me badly, like Darlene hurt you. You follow me?"
"Yeah," I replied. I wanted to tell her how I understood her pain, but I was drunkenly focused on how nice it would be to suck on those huge nipples, and how I wanted to run my hands through that long raven-black hair.
"Anyway, I've seen you're truly a good man, how kind you can be, how you like to do nice things for people -- even if they don't appreciate them. Like I was saying, I see you differently now -- better. I'm not afraid anymore, and I want to spend some time together, get to know you. I want to learn to trust a man again, and I think you're the one to teach me."
Maggie put her drink down and pushed forward out of the chair to stand in front of me. Her coat fell open and she reached down to grasp my face. For the first time since her wedding to Art, I gave her a kiss on the lips, but this one was far from chaste as it had been on her wedding day. Our arms went around each other, my hands grabbing her hips and pulled her into me. Our crotches ground into each other, but the trench coat's belt did an excellent job of cock-blocking.
"Undress me, Ray," she commanded, and I wasted no time getting her coat off. She was now standing there semi-naked in front of me, clad only in stockings and stilettos. She struck a whimsical pose, the back of her hands on her hips and one foot turned coquettishly on tiptoe, a dream come true; I was smiling like a college freshman player who'd just caught a winning touchdown. I stood and looked at her, savoring every delicious part. Her face, fully made up and wearing that seductive red lipstick, was breathtaking. It made me remember the many times when she was married to Arthur that I'd go over to their house for dinner and end up just looking at her most of the night.
In the time since I'd last seen her, she'd put on a few pounds and her face had gained a slight roundness to it, but it just made her sexier in my eyes. Her lovely Latina skin was a dark tanned tone. Seeing her naked for the first time, I saw her thick arms and thighs, and a seductive mound of belly that begged to be kissed. Below that sexy belly was a neatly-trimmed triangle of pubic hair. Her breasts were just as magnificent as I'd imagined all the years I'd known her, must have been at least 44Ds; they were complemented by huge brown areolas and very prominent nipples.
