Youre Worth Dying For Ch 02

SO FAR: Recently widowed Maggie Roberts resumes her business career while looking for a new husband - and her endeavours look fruitful.

Fifteen minutes wasn't as late as Maggie Roberts had planned to arrive at the Marks's dinner party but as it happened it was perfect; she trailed two couples to the front door of Number 27. The men turned, their eyes popped and they greeted her, one purring "Oh hello?" while the other with a greater sense of daring said, "My God, what do we have here?"

The two females just thinned down their lips into bitchy hard-eyed smiles and said nothing.

About par for the course, thought Maggie, resorting to an old hockey term or was that golf; she couldn't remember? But no longer did she have to distract herself from being tempted to think badly of those two women because Fluffy emerged through the open front door, regally ignored the baby talk of the two half-crouching women and went straight to Maggie, dragging its body round her as if Maggie was her favorite possession.

One of the men muttered 'Bloody cats' and Maggie heard the two women muttering but if they were verbal barbs meant for her she didn't hear them. Give her five minutes in just their company and she would have them won over; she was that confident. Both were festooned with jewelry and commenting authoritatively on that was always a good icebreaker and she identified the drifting fragrance of one of the perfumes.

Lillian came to the door, seemingly floating on air, and looked quite stunning in lilac silk and matching headband. The hostess kissed the two female guests and through the babble Maggie learned that the obviously dyed blonde in her early forties was Beth and the graying plumper woman of similar age was Pru.

"After you, baby," whispered the more forward of the two males and Maggie hoped he didn't choke on all that saliva: quite obviously he was a man looking for someone to partner in adultery. That suggested he belonged to the fake blonde -- she sounded like a bit of a control freak.

"Tony, stand aside and allow this lady through," commanded Beth, confirming she liked being in control. Maggie in her LBD minced forward on her very high heels knowing by the deathly silence behind her it hadn't been a waste of time wearing seamed stockings with Cuban heels.

"Stop gawking, you two," Beth almost snarled. "Haven't you seen a young lady before?"

That putdown was perfect and Maggie, wondering how Lillian would greet her, deciding already she was rather fond of Beth who, like her, was prepared to treat men like dirt if they deserved it.

"Ohmigod, just look at you, my sexy darling; never have I seen a little black dress look so stunning when off the shop mannequins. Girls this is Maggie -- Maggie this is Beth Trotter my Bridge partner; her bark is to be ignore as she'd all soft and interesting beneath that façade and this is Pru King, who's the epitome of a Pru and a dear friend of ours."

Then came the kissing, Lillian asserting hostess's right. Maggie said,"You look adorable, edible in fact, wrapped in silk."

Busty Pru pursed her lips and Maggie just touched them with hers, whispering "Elizabeth Taylor's White Diamonds" without any question mark; Pru's eyes widened.

In the better lighting of the foyer Maggie gained a fleeting but adequate glance of the very attractive Beth just before she kissed the older woman, who was holding back a little, on both cheeks. Then pausing to eye the choker, Maggie said wow and that she admired the deep ruby red color. "Venetian vintage glass -- 40's retro?"

"Yes, how clever of you," Beth smiled, establishing the bonding. Taking Maggie by the arm she said, "Come and let's grab a drink. I notice you're not wearing jewelry, not even ear-rings."

"Perhaps I regard my belly bar and lower piercing sufficient for this evening?"

"Oh God, you haven't had that lovely body of yours pierced, have you?"

"God no."

"Oh you tease; I feel I'm really going to like you."

The dinner party was a great success.

Peter didn't look a dork, left the other two men sounding simple-minded when it came to intelligent conversation and later in the evening when Maggie purposely brushed his knee with her hand under the table he moved away as if she'd shot him. Well, no extras for you this evening after coffee my dear, she sighed. She looked up into intense gaze of Beth and with a start realized extras might be available in that direction if she were interested, which she wasn't. She hoped Philip, Beth's husband, would get what he wanted from his wife this evening if only to keep the marriage alive; Beth had entered that difficult age span when it would be difficult for her to find a suitable man to keep up appearances and to be a satisfactory stepfather for her two youngsters.

Peter left first, kissing the other women and lumping Maggie in with the three men for a handshake.

Maggie left next and was kissed by everyone including Harry who was almost out to it through concentrating on drinking rather than the conversations.

Beth Watkins walked Maggie to the gate. "I think you've guessed I'm more than just attracted to you."

"Yes."

"Do you mind?"

"No, but don't ruin your marriage, Beth."

"I won't -- we've reached an understanding. Philip is happily balling his younger sister's best friend."

Maggie pressed Beth's arm and said she was sorry.

"Philip and I still do it."

"Really?"

"Yes, he's rather good at it but completely lacks emotion when on the job."

"Really?"

"Maggie, I'm not predatory but when you were talking to me in the foyer I knew you were just perfect for me."

"Really?"

"Oh God, those really response mean I disgust you, don't they?"

"Not at all. I find you attractive and interesting. If you want we can have lunch together next week -- I would welcome your friendship if you can accept it has to be without any add-ons."

Beth's mouth opened in surprise. "Really?"

They both laughed and Maggie gave Beth her email address.

As Beth leaned over to write down address, Maggie gained a faint smell of the fading fragrance of her new friend's perfume and stared at the beautiful line of Beth's outstretched neck.

"Beth -- don't write Philip off. According to my mum, men are like puppies and the good ones are perfectly trainable. I see emotions within Philip. I think I should introduce you to my mother."

"I'd like that; do you think she'd really want to talk to me about such a thing; older women regard sex as their private business and consider everyone should be the same."

"My mother is not yet forty-six."

"God, only a couple of years older than me. What were you -- a Love Child?"

"I guess so, but they married before I was born -- that was just on thirty years ago but he'd well gone now."

"Look, I'll lunch with you next week of course but I think your mother and you should join me at a girl's only weekend at our beach house soon. Perhaps I should add Pru, as although she's a friend-only, we've been together since we entered pre-school within a day of each other."

"That sounds perfect -- what about adding Lillian."

"Lillian, what would she know about sex?"

"Initially I was of the same view, but just recently she'd proven to be a real eye-opener with an attitude towards sex that will crack you up. Consider this, where do you have sex?"

"Now that I'm older, on the bed and occasionally on the sofa."

"Oh, you conservative woman. Wait until you hear from Lillian about her contemporary adventures with Harry."

"Harry? But he shuffles instead of walking; I'd be amazed to be told he's still capable of getting it stiff."

"I'll leave it to Lillian to enlighten you."

Fluffy ran ahead of Maggie but just inside the gate froze, looking into the shadows to the right of the front door.

"Is someone there?"

"Gee, Maggie, you have great eyesight. I parked around the corner."

"Why are you here, Peter?" Maggie bleated stupidly amid her rising lust stimulated by alcohol and engaging conversations throughout the evening.

Peter remained cautious. "You rather gave me the impression you were interested."

"Passionately interested and you just happen to be the lucky guy. Do you think we could do it, out her, under the stars?"

"On the lawn?"

"If you wish -- or there's a stepladder and a sturdy wheelbarrow at the back of the house."

"Huh?"

"The grass is fine."

Maggie gave him half a chance, saying, "This can be only a oncer Peter. Walk away if you wish. But in fact it wasn't anywhere near half a chance, with her waiting until he had unzipped before delivering that message."

"Once, providing it includes successive bouts is fine by me," he said bravely.

"What's wrong lover-boy," Maggie asked dreamily, already worked up with his fingering and slobbering, on her back, legs held high and stretched apart like a gymnast, her panties dangle from her big toe of her right foot.

"Um, Maggie...bad news I'm afraid. Too much wine I guess."

"Good-bye, Peter."

"But Maggie, listen to me."

"Be a good boy and run along," she said sweetly,

She watched Peter look forlornly at the half hard thingy in his hand before stuffing it through his zip. She assumed she now had the answer why his wife had departed, sensible girl.

Waving to Peter as he trudged off, head down looking as it he'd lost a winning Lotto ticket, Maggie grinned at the baleful stare of the exceedingly patient Fluffy and took her inside for her milk. Fluffy then jumped on to the white pillow case on the living room sofa, obviously receiving the unspoken message she was welcome to stay the night.

Maggie looked at the wardrobe where her box of toys was virtually buried in the far corner but decided to have a cold shower instead.

Maggie awoke and checked the bedside clock. It was 12:15.

"Oh fuck, she wailed. I'm late." She and Ryan had arranged to meet at the prime picnic spot of Barge Landing when self-propelled barges carrying freight upriver early last century used to be run-aground for the night.

Maggie cleaned her teeth, slapped on some make-up, put on a sexy sundress over her bra and panties, grabbed a bottle of French champagne and two flutes and ran for the car, grabbing her blue sandals as she went through the back doorway, followed by Fluffy. She gunned the motor and reversed, only to brake heavily and return; she raced to the back door, set the alarm and locked the door.

Vehicles were prohibited from driving into the rambling picnic area. Parking beside Ryan's vehicle Maggie began searching for him, having to return to lock her vehicle. She made a very attractive sight, being blonde, beautiful with the blue checked sundress doing little to conceal a great body and carrying two flutes and a bottle of champagne.

"Over here darling," called a rough looking man with two mates, drinking from beer bottles while gathered around their barbecue.

"Yeah, babe," said one of his companions, "We won't disappoint you."

"May the Good Lord have mercy on your souls locked in your depraved bodies which are waiting to be diseased," Maggie called devoutly.

"Jesus is she for real?" as the lout who'd just made the boast. He turned to find his bearded companion who'd made the initial comment crossing himself."

Maggie grinned. Men could be such babies.

Ryan emerged from a grove of young trees and waved cheerfully to her, crooking his arm but then having the decency not to look at his watch. He'd said he would provide everything and Maggie could see it all set out neatly behind him. He looked undecided about how to greet her so she held out the bottle in one hand, flutes in the other and as he took them she stepped up to him and on tip-toes kissed him hungrily.

She could see, when breaking away, he'd rather enjoyed that.

"What now -- a drink, food, food and drink or a walk through this parkland?"

"Make love to me, Ryan, Maggie replied huskily. She wanted him so badly -- her breasts were swollen, threatening to burst out of her bra and her lower stomach was churning a riot.

"What here?" he asked, looking about nervously.

"Yes. It's largely private and I can keep my dress on -- the top is front opening."

"You'll take off your bra and panties?"

"No," Maggie said, allowing a pause. "You can do that."

She looked down and smiled, noting his shorts were having difficulty accommodating him. He led her into a slighter more dense part of the thicket, kissed her and pulled out her breasts and began attending to them. Maggie was fingering herself; it had been so long and after her verbal adventures last night she was aroused, ready to explode. She raised a finger higher to touch her clit for the first time and immediately shuddered into an orgasm.

"Are you okay?" Ryan asked, looking at her with concern.

"I'm on a ride to the moon," she replied dreamily, wondering whether he'd be surprised to find her so wet down there. "Nip my nipples if you like, I rather like that and it turns me on." That might explain her wetness to him.

"Are you sure?" he asked, as if being given a bag of sweets.

"For the moment, they're all yours. In fact everything of me is yours to enjoy."

She unzipped him and reached for what she wanted.

They ended up having a very late lunch but did take time out to drink champagne.

On Friday morning three weeks later Ryan and Maggie were married at a small service in Auckland City, attended only by the wedding celebrant, Ryan's parents and his younger brother James as his attendant, Harriet and Maggie's dear friend Barbara who flew up from Christchurch for the day to be her attendant.

Ryan had warned there could be problems from some people close to them who'd not been invited to the function but Maggie just shrugged. "This is a second time round for both of us; one such big event in a lifetime is enough -- you agreed when I first raised this. And remember -- your parents are not even keen about us marrying, saying they haven't had time to get to know me. I've tried, but your mother just doesn't accept me; it appears to me she wants you to marry a quiet nobody from the suburbs who just wants to churn out children."

"My mother told you that?"

"Not in so many words, but I've put the looks, casual comments and her sighs together to build the picture."

"You're wrong about that."

"Why don't you ask her?"

The next day Ryan said to Maggie: "She was absolutely flabbergasted. She said you were right but how you knew that is beyond her understanding as she's never breathed a word to anyone, not even to dad or Janet her best friend.

The wedding breakfast was scheduled for Sunday week after the wedding in the new press-room, a lift-slab construction due to be structurally completed two days before the event, allowing Maggie and her team of Harriet, her new mother-in-law Molly, Lillian, Beth and Pru to begin decorating the interior of the massive area and arrange the seating for 318 guests who'd include the company's entire workforce of 128 plus partners. Caterers looked after the food and refreshments and a space was set aside for dancing on a portable dance floor.

The building had to be handed back to the contractors on the following day to prepare for interior partitions, mezzanine floors and then the installation of the new presses and applied equipment.

* * *

The new Mrs de Lacy was pleased to be married again and this time it felt like a real marriage and while they did the holding hands, sex and blowing kisses as one would expect, in this marriage Maggie found they washed the dinner dishes and laughed as they chatted, took turns at preparing meals and they went shopping together and incidentally bathed together, something Stephen never would do because he preferred to only shower.

They also had sex in the shower too and lovingly washed each other's back but in Maggie's book bathing together was just so yum-yum. They would lie facing each other, more often than not with a glass of wine and it was really easy to shut eyes and drift with the conversation and then one or the other would start it, with a wandering toe. It was unbelievably erotic. Maggie soon found she had her noisiest encounters and biggest orgasms when heated by the warm bathwater and being softly stroke or hard-pounded -- it really didn't seem whether it was soft of hard - laying uncomfortably over the side of the bath or alternatively on her back stretched up over the bench with the two hand-basins, being rubbed in places rarely touched in other locations -- one exception being bent over the end of the sofa.

Oh, it was just so good having a sex life again but it would be untrue to claim life was a dream. For instance, they squabble a bit and many of those tiffs related to space and possessions. Ryan complained that she'd stolen his hairbrush when he awoke grumpy one morning; she said bullshit it was in his drawer. He said he preferred that she didn't talk uncouthly as that made her seem common and she argued she was too unique to be considered common and anyway other people expect rich people to be stylishly uncouth and that shut him up, making her realize he was sensitive about her money. She'd agreed to sell her apartment and move into his smaller apartment, signaling that she had largess in spirit but that seemed to count for nothing. He really loved driving her car which he said matched her sportiness.

She moved to fix the thing about money, though seemed to receive little credit for that -- not the thanks but in removing money as an unspoken division between them. Maggie said to Ryan, two nights after their first sexual union, "How much do you think I'm worth?" His handsome face turned but then the sigh announced defeat: "I haven't a clue really."

She told him, and he boggled. Fetching her computer she said of course that was only on paper. She then set it all out for him -- the two cash injections from her grandfather that theoretically had to be paid back, her bank loans and her current account presently in overdraft although that would change when the company began paying her dividends.

"Jesus," he said, looking at the figures. "You were on your way to creating yourself into a multi-millionaire until you became bogged down getting involved with our company."

"True, but fast money means little satisfaction really. Here I have increased my indebtedness to exploit the lure of potential. It will either send me down or elevate me into a high flyer."

"We should be paying you a real salary -- what you requested for contributing as executive chairman was chicken shit; most of our go-forward momentum is attributed solely to you."

"It's what I requested."

"It's chicken shit."

"Watch your mouth, you common fellow."

Ryan had the grace to grin.

"Everyone around here thinks you are a millionaire," he said. "If only they knew your huge exposure to failure, these enormous risks you have been taken."

"They don't need to know, buddy."

"True; I couldn't do what you do."

"I know but aren't you lucky in deciding to marry me -- I can carry you along with me and enrich you."

By sheer luck at that moment Ryan's phone went; it was one of those 'trouble at mill' calls -- the CBD power was down and the company's bank of three emergency generators had failed to cut in. He told the night engineer to disconnect them from system, start each one manually and then switch each one back in, starting with the largest generator first.

"Yes, it's that simple, Roger. Larry (the chief engineer) obviously has slipped up with training. File your report and I'll sort it at tomorrow's exe meeting. Tell it how it was; Larry will be the first to congratulate you for identifying the problem and then hauling us out of the crap. Call back if the procedure I've given you fails. If it works in your report simply mention you called me to confirm what you proposed doing was correct procedure. We don't want the day engineers thinking you lack competence."