This is a prequel to my story for the
Wine and Old Lace Event
in December 2019, entitled "
It Was Just Supposed To Be A Summer Job
." It could probably hold up on its own, but I think it might be a better read if you read that story first to get the lay of the land, so to speak.
I need to again thank BlackRandl1958 for pushing me into new ground with that story, thus bringing me to this one. GeorgeAnderson's appreciation of the Marty character in his comment on that story got me the rest of the way here.
"So why does it have to be you, Marty?" Henry Tanner asked his son with more than a little exasperation in his voice. "You're only 19. You've got your whole life ahead of you.
"This isn't just a big step, Marty. It's a HUGE step, and for a girl who in the end is nothing more than a friend at best. You can't be serious!"
Marty watched his father pace in front of him for a few seconds. His mother, Alberta, sat at one end of the kitchen table sobbing quietly, with a handkerchief to her face. He would get no relief from her. Ultimately, this was the first big test, he thought. If he could handle his parents... his father... he could handle anybody.
"Because I'm the only one that can do it, Dad," he said quietly but firmly. "I can take the shit, Dad, and this kid will grow up right because I'll be there to love it and show it the right way to do things... like you've always taught me."
"But Marty, you won't be able to fight your way out of every scrape. We know you're strong, Son, but sometimes it's going to be about strength of character, not physical strength. Maybe if this was 1971, or 1991, but it's not. This is 1951, and raising a mixed-race child here in New York isn't going to be easy," Henry said.
"I know, Dad. Trust me, I've thought about nothing but this for two weeks. I know in my heart it's the right thing to do. I won't let myself down, and I certainly won't let my child down," Marty answered.
"From your mouth to God's ears, Marty," his mother said through her tears.
Marty got up from the kitchen table, left the Tanners' small apartment and walked two blocks to another small apartment. He climbed two flights of stairs, and knocked on the third door on the right. It was the apartment of Solomon and Esther Gabor and their youngest daughter, Naomi. The other three Gabor children had all married and left home, like Marty's older brother and sister had already done.
At first glance, Naomi Gabor looked like any other teenager of Eastern European descent, until one got to her midsection. Yes, she had the slightly darker, ruddy skin, and large brown eyes, but not all single teenagers of Eastern European descent had a four-month-old baby growing inside their bodies. She answered the door, gave Marty a silent nod, took him by his hand and led him into the apartment. Naomi's father, seated in a straight-backed chair in the living room, got to his feet to shake the younger man's hand. Naomi's mother stayed seated in her chair as Marty nodded to her and acknowledged her by her name, "Mrs. Gabor." The pair of teens then sat on the empty sofa.
Marty took a couple of longer breaths, then raised his head and looked directly at Solomon Gabor.
"I'd like to ask for your permission to marry your daughter, sir," Marty said crisply and clearly.
"I'll be damned!" Solomon Gabor exclaimed in little more than a stage whisper. "He's as meshuggah as she is!"
"Why the hell would a nice boy like you want to do something as crazy as marry my slut of a daughter!" Solomon yelled as the veins in his neck and forehead stood out.
Marty jumped up and assumed a defensive fighting pose, but Solomon stayed in his chair.
"You know you won't be able to beat up everybody who says something or makes a snide remark, kid. Do you have any idea what you're getting yourself into?"
Marty relaxed and sat back down, looking a little sheepish.
"Yes, I do, sir; at least I think I do."
Marty swallowed hard and took a couple of deep breaths trying to get himself completely under control.
"However, I take exception with you calling your daughter a slut. She made a mistake with someone she thought she was in love with, and thought he'd return that love. What's done is now done, and I'd appreciate you not calling the woman who is going to be my wife a slut."
Solomon quietly just shook his head.
"And with a black man. Why not at least a white guy, for God's sake? Someone at least the same color."
"I'd bet you his parents would be asking him the same question ... if he told them anything about the baby at all. For most teenage guys, it's not about color. It's all about... sex," Marty said after realizing he couldn't use the kind of language he was thinking of in front of Naomi's family.
"It's not about the color here," Marty said, tapping his left hand with his right. "It's about the color here," he finished, tapping his heart with his right hand.
"And that's the same color for all of us."
Solomon and his wife, Esther, looked at each other, then back to the young man sitting on the sofa with their daughter. Solomon took a long drag of his Kent cigarette, and slowly blew the smoke out his nose. His wife looked at him nervously. Everyone in the room could see the wheels turning in Solomon's head.
"Okay, I'll give my blessing to this marriage, but you've got to promise me, Marty... solemn promise, that if this doesn't work you won't go out in a blaze of stupidity. We'll make sure Naomi won't fight a divorce, if it comes to that, but you won't be speaking ill of her or humiliating her in public. Do I have your promise?"
Marty immediately rose to his feet and stuck out a meaty hand for Solomon Gabor to shake. Solomon looked from the hand to the young man's eyes, then back to the hand again. He rose, and the two men sealed the deal with a firm handshake. Solomon resisted the urge to wince in pain, as Marty's right forearm and hand were extremely well-muscled from him using a cleaver working in a butcher shop for the last three years.
Marty headed to the Gabor's front door, and Naomi followed closely behind. As he pushed the screen door open, Naomi gently pulled Marty's large right bicep back to her. He stopped and turned around, facing his bride-to-be and looking deeply into her large brown eyes.
"I don't have the words to thank you properly," she whispered to him. "I'll never be able to thank you enough."
She gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. Marty blushed, and headed out the door.
The two were wed in a small Jewish ceremony in the near-by synagogue, with just family and a few close friends invited. They soon moved into a small apartment just three blocks away from Marty's parents' apartment, and four blocks from Naomi's parents' apartment in the Bronx. Marty continued working at a butcher shop in Brooklyn, while Naomi tended to their small apartment.
At first, the newlyweds' lived with Naomi's parents, but on their wedding night they stayed in a small hotel so they could at least have a semblance of privacy. While neither Marty at 19, nor Naomi at 18, was a virgin, Marty had never had sex with a pregnant woman before, and hesitated repeatedly, afraid to hurt the baby. Only when Naomi reaffirmed for the third time that the baby wouldn't be harmed, did the pair engage in very halting sex.
Naomi didn't have an orgasm as Marty was way too gentle for that, even holding back when he finally came. Marty could see the look of disappointment on his bride's face, so after a minute of rest he slowly started to slide down Naomi's body until his face was planted squarely over her sex. He then stuck his tongue out as far as it would go and slurped upward on her pussy, tasting both of their juices. Naomi, never having had that done to her before, erupted in a body-shaking climax, yelling out Marty's name as she came. Marty continued licking until Naomi finally stopped shaking about a minute later, then he peaked at her over the small bump of her baby belly. She looked in his general direction with glazed over eyes.
"What do you call that?" Naomi asked breathlessly.
"I'd call that the sweetest thing I ever ate," Marty answered back as he smiled at her.
"Wow!"
Marty dove back in at that point, bringing his bride to three more strong orgasms in the next 15 minutes before stopping and resting his head on her left leg.
"Where did you learn how to do that, Mr. Tanner?" Naomi asked in a dreamy state.
"Never ask questions that you really don't want the answers to, Mrs. Tanner," Marty responded playfully. "Let's just say I have a lot of skills, and if you let me, I will gladly show them all to you over time."
Naomi just smiled back before putting her head back down on the pillow.
Marty and Naomi had known each other since he was 11 and she was 10. The apartment buildings they lived in, in the Bronx, were just a couple of blocks apart, and they went to the same elementary, junior high and high schools. They had some common friends, but didn't run in the same circles very often. Marty started working in a butcher shop in the area at 16, and didn't have that much free time. Still, Naomi was aware of the dark-haired, handsome Marty, the same way he was aware that Millie Gabor's younger sister was pretty with light brown hair and big boobs.
Through the years, the two had talked, and Naomi was impressed by Marty's quiet intelligence. He was especially adept at math, and could add long columns of numbers in his head. She knew he was of Austrian descent, and sometimes got in trouble for skipping classes before he graduated the previous year. She also knew that when he began to work at the butcher shop, his arms and chest started gaining a lot of muscle. Carrying large pieces of hanging meat was paying off in strength and size, and several of the teenage girls in the area took notice of him.
