Tutto A Posto

A Note from the Author:

Full disclosure: This story is uncomfortable for me, and has sat largely finished for days as I wondered how it will be received. It rightly falls into the category of Horror, but has very strong non-con elements. I'm honestly not a fan of non-con, but that's where the story went. The full scope of the horror becomes apparent in the final act.

The main character, Marney, is the reason I'm publishing Tutto a Posto. I

like

Marney. I'm rooting for her. I sincerely hope you find something to like in Marney as she navigates her horror story. I hope you root for her, too.

Warning: There are elements of non-con, horror, and fantasy within.

All players are well over the age of 18.

Tutto a Posto

_____________________

Part I: Pleasing to the Eye

Everything was coming together. Marney adjusted the table runner such that it was symmetric along the long axis of the table, and then smiled at its eye-pleasing appearance. She fine-tuned the placement so that the edges hung just so. Recalling the phrase from Italian, Marney whispered, "tutto a posto." She loved the feel and shape of those words. The symmetry. Everything was in its right place.

Some peripheral motion broke her admiration of cloth on wood. A shadow passed behind her and Marney realized she wasn't alone in the room. For a fraction of a second, she had the irrational fear that a stranger had been watching her. Wheeling on her right foot, Marney focused on the culprit, Jim. He smiled as though caught with his hand in the cookie jar. She relaxed.

"Were you just standing there watching me straighten up the foyer?"

Jim's smile grew broader, and he simply shrugged. The aw-shucks routine usually allowed him some extra grace.

"Maybe you could take out the trash for me? Could my loving husband do that before he returns to his pastime activity of staring at my tush?"

He blew Marney a kiss and disappeared into the kitchen, whistling while he worked. She chuckled to herself. Even after a dozen years of marriage, Jim could still be such a horndog. She was grateful that he still appreciated her, despite a few extra pounds over the last decade.

Marney looked in the foyer mirror. She saw herself as a mature woman of thirty-eight, pleased with her Talbot's wardrobe and Von Maur shoes. Her light brown hair just touched her shoulders, and Marney gave it quick attention before moving along. Guests would arrive within the hour and she had limited time to put the finishing touches on the event.

Tonight they would fete Jim's promotion to senior market analyst. In the first year of their marriage, he had traveled almost continuously, but now he was home all but a few days a month. He'd paid his dues, impressed all the right people. He was now two promotions beyond his age peers at Hawthorne, Barnes, and Winger. Marney smiled to herself and thought that the company name might one day include her own surname by marriage.

Jim passed through on the way to the garage with the kitchen trash bin. "The house really looks great, Sweetie."

Marney adjusted the table runner one more time. "Thanks! I hope it all goes smoothly. I want this to be perfect."

Jim returned from the garage and she heard him replace the bin and wash his hands in the kitchen sink, still whistling an unfamiliar tune. He returned to the foyer and Marney watched his eyes travel from the clock to her body, and back to the clock. He took a single step towards her and she held up her hand, palm facing him as a traffic cop.

"I know that look. If you think you're going to get fresh with me when we have guests due in 45 minutes, you can guess again, Mister. It's just enough time to take an ice-cold shower." Marney smiled, pleased with herself.

Jim took no notice. "You really want to send me away, baby? Off to a frigid shower when I'm hot right here?" He was not smiling.

Marney took a step backward. "Jim, seriously. We don't have time. I want us both to look...unruffled. The guests will know we've been fooling around."

Jim responded flatly, the aw-shucks routine nowhere to be found. "I don't care."

He caught her and ran his hand along her ass, fingertips tracing the cleft between her cheek and hamstring. "I don't care if they know we've been fooling around. We're married. We're allowed."

Marney glanced at the clock and tried to make the math work. "I know we're allowed but I still think it's déclassé."

He gently pushed her into the powder room adjoining the foyer, against the clean, white porcelain sink. This was happening. Jim's hand carefully cupped Marney's breast through her blouse and gave a tentative squeeze. She let out a little sigh of satisfaction and stroked his clean-shaven jaw. Their lips met in a gentle kiss, but she could feel his urgency. There was unbridled want behind his eyes.

"Marney, I'm going to put my hand under that respectable skirt now."

She couldn't believe that they were going to fool around in their little powder room, much less right before their party. Jim usually preferred their comfortable bed, although sometimes they got frisky on the couch in the den.

He did exactly as he said he would. Jim's hand moved back and forth along the hem of her skirt before crossing the threshold into forbidden territory. Marney allowed herself a whimper as Jim's hand reached her upper thigh and squeezed the tender flesh near her sex.

"I'm going to peel those panties aside and put my finger in you now."

Marney nodded in agreement. Even though the canape needed a finishing touch, she could feel the dampness in her panties. She was surprised at herself and her aroused state. Perhaps it was the time constraint, or the wild location of their activity? It didn't matter because Jim's fingers had found her labia. He stroked her damp slit and pushed his tongue into her mouth. Marney kissed him back with extra vigor.

Jim's right hand worked his belt buckle. Without breaking the kiss, he continued to stroke her while unbuttoning his pants. Marney heard his pants hit the finished wood floor. She then felt his hardness against her belly.

She broke the kiss. "What's got into you?"

He removed his hand from her skirt and lifted her just above the hips so that her ass rested on the vanity. "I need you right now. Right here."

Marney spread her legs and her skirt rode almost to her waist. She hoped it wouldn't be too wrinkled. Jim roughly yanked her panties to the side and pushed his cock against her slit, working the head up and down, lubricating with her secretion, grazing her clit. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he entered her. "Jim. Oh. Oh!"

He plunged into Marney, staring directly into her eyes. "You like it?" She threw her head back and nodded but didn't speak.

"I asked if you like it, Marney?"

She nodded again but still didn't reply. Her toes curled at the delicious intrusion, the sound of his voice echoing in the little room, and the waves of desire emanating from him. As her foot arched, the pretty Von Maur fell to the floor with a thud. Neither noticed as Jim already neared climax.

"Marney, tell me you love it. You want it. Tell me."

His hips rocked faster and Marney felt her own climax awaken from some forgotten place. She wanted to respond, to speak, to confirm his need, but her entire mind was focused on the sensation of his cock stretching her, sliding into her ever faster. She managed to open her eyes to look at him, meaning to communicate with her gaze.

Jim looked angry, but she might have mistaken anger for concentration. It was a microexpression, but it was there. Before she had a chance to consider what might have been, Jim reached down and pinched her clitoris. Rather hard.

"Ow! Jim! Ow! Stop!!"

His face registered first anger, then cycled quickly through surprise and then concern. His hips stopped, his fingers released her clit and he said, "I'm sorry! I don't know what got into me. Are you ok?" He stared down at the floor.

Her clit throbbed from the pinch and Marney's eyes welled up. "It's one thing to get frisky in the middle of the day, but that hurt! Why would you pinch me like that? Did you think I'd like it? Who would like that?" Her tears began to fall and Marney cursed the whole affair because she would have to rush to fix her makeup. This was over, despite that fact that he was still very hard inside her.

Jim looked up and she saw his eyes focus on her tears, his expression one she'd never seen before. His motionless cock erupted inside her without warning and Jim's eyes rolled back in his head. He let out a long, satisfied sigh.

"Jim! Did you just have your orgasm inside me while I'm telling you that you hurt me?? Get off!" Marney pushed him away and heard Jim start to apologize.

"Marney, I'm sorry! Really! I don't know what--"

"Jim, I don't want to hear it. Just go. I have to clean up before people arrive. I don't want to hear anything from you right now. I don't even want to see you! Just go!"

He shuffled backwards, upbraided, and picked up his pants by the belt, then walked out of the room. Marney could hear him buckling in the hallway. She composed herself and ran a checklist of what needed to be done before she could receive a guest. No time for a full shower, she would have to wipe up, put on fresh clothes, and fix the makeup in record time. Her clitoris was still sensitive from his manhandling and she shook her head unconsciously.

"Honestly. What the heck?"

Marnie retrieved the dropped shoe and made a beeline for their bedroom.

_____________________

Part II: Uninvited Guests

Marney flit about the party, topping drinks and entertaining guests long enough to be charming, but not long enough to allow anyone to monopolize her time. Her background in linguistics may have been dulled by neglect, but her hostess skills were sharp as a razor.

"Honestly Marney, these canapes are delicious! Where did you find them?" Christine Barnes asked with genuine interest.

Marney was tickled. "I actually made the topping myself. It's brie and cranberry and a dash of magic. Cooking has always been a hobby, and Jim really likes a well-made dish."

They made small talk for a moment before Marney excused herself to make a circuit through the kitchen. She did not see Jim as she floated through the kitchen into the dining room. The house was reaching capacity but she had a very good handle on where every guest could be found and with whom they were socializing. Where the heck was Jim? This was his party!

Marney glimpsed Jim on the front porch and assumed he was greeting another guest. As she watched through the window, she realized something was wrong. The man talking to Jim was unfamiliar and underdressed. What Marney found most perplexing was that the man was clearly in distress. Jim stood talking to him with his arms folded.

The man himself wore blue jeans and a flannel shirt. His face was covered by an uneven beard, accented by pattern baldness. His body language was that of someone nearly begging. He removed his wire spectacles and held his fingers to the bridge of his nose before holding both palms towards Jim as if beseeching. Jim appeared to remain impassive before shaking his head and pointing to the street. Clearly the man was being asked to leave. Marney watched as the man shuffled back down to the street, all the while staring at his own shoes. He was defeated.

"Marney, where might I get a fresh glass of this Pinot noir? It's sinfully good!"

Claire Hawthorne stood in front of Marney with an empty glass, smiling. Marney looked at the glass and her hostess instincts rescued the moment.

"Well Claire, it'd be a sin to keep you waiting any longer as I stand here daydreaming. Dear me! Let's get you something wonderful! I just adore those earrings by the way!"

The two women walked towards the kitchen and Marney forgot all about the man on the porch. She meant to ask Jim about it later, but in the bustle of the party, it was if the memory had been erased from her head.

__________

The guests were gone and the only sound in the bedroom was the whisper of the ceiling fan. Marney removed her earrings and put them in a little crystal bowl on her dresser. Her shoes she carefully aligned in her closet. Clothes went into the wicker hamper. She headed to the master bathroom to remove her makeup.

"Mirror." Marney liked the sound of the word as she said it aloud in the little room. She studied the slow and intricate movement of her lips in the silvered glass. "Mir-ror. Mir-ror." Then "Er-ror." She felt the word rise from her chest and wind escape her throat as she said, "Roar." Marney stopped and looked into the eyes of her reflection. "

Fury

," she whispered.

Sounds of Jim idly humming in the bedroom broke her reverie. Marney tied her hair into a little pony tail with a nearby scrunchie. She didn't like anything about the shape or taste of the name of that hair tie. "Loop," she said under her breath. A better word, top to bottom.

"Are you ever coming out? Do I need to send a search party? The search party will consist of me, by the way."

Marney chuckled and walked into the bedroom saying, "Very funny, Mister. Would you rather I come to bed with a full face of make-up?"

"I'll take you any way you come," he said with a wink and a sly smile.

She blushed. "You are such a horndog, Jim."

"If by 'horndog' you mean ready to make love to my beautiful wife, then the title is accurate."

Her blush intensified. The memory of their earlier encounter was already foggy in her mind, like a movie she'd watched years ago. Jim stared at her and motioned for her to come to him. Marney's feet moved before she could further consider the final act of the movie.

She stood in front of him and he hugged her, then placed his hands gently on her face, staring into her eyes. He said, "You were incredible tonight, Marney. The party was perfect, and you were perfect. I don't know what I'd do without you."

He kissed her, gently running his tongue over her lips. She sighed and her whole body relaxed into him. He'd said the party was perfect. That she was perfect. Weeks of stress left her body.

Jim carefully lay Marney onto the bed and pulled on the string holding her flannel pajama bottoms. He stared into her eyes and pulled the pants down over her hips and legs, dropping them to the floor.

"I do love your clean, white cotton panties." He ran his palm over the panties and then hooked a finger under the waistband. "But they've got to go."

She nodded and he yanked on her underwear, pulling them off and flinging them into the corner.

"Take off your top. I want to see you," he said quietly. She nodded and carefully unbuttoned the night shirt. Beneath was a comfortable tank top. Marney sat up, removed both and resumed her prone position. Her nipples hardened in the cool moving air of the bedroom. She was fully naked and he stood wearing flannel pants. His erection was barely concealed.

He dropped his pants and underwear, and stood looking at her as he would a rare steak. Jim was so excited that he seemed almost to hum. Pre-cum glistened on the head of his cock.

"I'm going to fuck you right now. I'm going to come inside you."

Marney looked up into the ceiling fan and spread her legs. Jim mounted her and began to push his cock against her.

"You're dry, Marney. Help me out."

Marney licked her hand and caressed his cock, then repeated. The taste was salty on her tongue but she continued lubricating. He pushed again and the tip of his cock made entry into her vagina. She was still far from wet, but Jim didn't seem to mind as he applied steady pressure.

The ceiling fan continued its slow clockwise revolution. She watched and envied the smooth, quiet operation. A simple and functional little word, fan. Jim pushed harder, nearly all the way in now. He wasn't rocking, just pushing. The skin of his insistent cock dragged against her canal. The fan kept moving the air over their heads with its perfectly balanced blades. Marney glanced at Jim, who stared at her with an unreadable expression, something like the look he had when he was sure he was correct. It was the face of someone about to score an inevitable win at a board game.

He pushed and was fully inside. Their pubic bones met. Jim's voice was guttural. "I'm going to fuck you hard. So fucking hard. I'm going to come deep inside that neat little pussy. I'm going to make a fucking mess of it. You are going to love it."

He did exactly as he said he would.

The ceiling fan continued its slow clockwise revolution, unbothered.

__________

Marney moved through their home, restoring smooth order after the bubbling chaos of last night's party. The bathrooms needed the most work, but there were still empty glasses and hors d'oeuvre plates hidden about the bookshelves and in nooks unseen.

The doorbell rang and she sighed at the intrusion of the uninvited guest. Marney froze in her tracks as the thought triggered her memory of the man who Jim had sent away during the party. She had meant to ask him, but the thought was so far away. The doorbell rang again and Marney muttered to herself, "Goodness! I'll be right there, Mr. Impatient!"

Mr. Impatient wasn't a mister at all, but rather Marney's friend Bridget. Tall and blonde, svelte and chic, Bridget looked the same as she had in college, but with a good deal more money.

"Hey Bridget! What a nice surprise! What brings you by?"

Bridget smiled with high wattage. "I was in the neighborhood. Sorry to just drop in without so much as a text message! If it's not a good time, I can call you later."

"No, not at all!" Marney said. "I was just straightening the house. Come right in, I'll make us some coffee."

Bridget walked in, passed the little sitting room and headed straight for the kitchen, ever the pragmatist. Marney followed and admired her friend's skinny jeans and smart jacket. In the kitchen, Marney loaded some of the stray glasses into the dishwasher while they made preliminary small talk. Sensing the meat of the conversation was at hand, she began preparing a pot of coffee in her little silver percolator.

"How have you been, Marney? I barely hear from you."

"Oh things are good! Jim's promotion will mean a nice raise and then we can start on the new addition to the house. We want to expand his study and maybe restructure the patio to make room for a smoker. Jim's really been getting into smoking all kinds of cuts. It'll really be nice in the summer."

Bridget nodded at all the right places, listening dutifully. "Marney that sounds really exciting, and I'm happy for you both, but you didn't really tell me anything about you. How are *you* doing?"

Marney's hands faltered with the coffee grinder, but the pause was nearly imperceptible. "I'm fine. Busy as always. Making sure the house is in order and everything--"

Bridget said, "Marney. We've known each other forever. I'm hearing a lot of words but I'm not hearing a lot of you. Are you ok?"

"Is that why you're in the neighborhood today, Bridget? Doing a little wellness check?"

"Actually, yeah, that's exactly why I'm here." Bridget paused to consider her words. "Marn, none of the gang has heard from you in months. You reply to all our messages with this saccharine housewife bullshit straight from 1955. That's not you. That's not the friend I remember. What's going on over here?"

"Nothing is going on over here," Marney said, using air quotes to parody her friend's question. "I told you I'm fine, just busy. Sorry that my happy life is the subject of everyone's worry."