Hail Mary

by C. C. Galloway

  The man knew how to kiss.

  And where to kiss.

  “Do you consider yourself special?” she responded while his fingers began methodically removing her panties as Mary raised her hips to help him.

  Michael stopped his task at hand and looked at her. He simply stared, as though dumbstruck.

  “You bought…” he sputtered.

  He tried again.

  “You did…”

  “This was for me?”

  “Well, technically I bought them for me. But I thought it might be a nice bonus if you enjoyed them as well,” she said, reaching for him again, touching whatever part of him she could in order to kiss him.

  “If you bought them for me, I’m glad I didn’t rip them off the way I wanted to,” Michael finally stated, looking at her eyes and still rubbing her hands.

  Mary laughed. Okay, crisis temporarily averted. He wasn’t running fast and far away in fear.

  “Would you have ripped them with your teeth or with your bare hands, Cave Man?”

  “Well,” he said settling down with his head near her pussy, “if I’d taken them off with my teeth, I could have done this much sooner.” Without any further preliminaries, he put his mouth right on her.

  Michael started by kissing her center, softly, all over. Up and down her slit, mimicking the action his fingers had taken earlier through the silk of her thong. Then his tongue was circling over her clit, back and forth, nipping here, licking there. He kept it up with the single minded determination befitting a professional athlete.

  Both his finger and his wicked mouth kept repeating their flight path all over her clit, sending her higher and higher until she finally went over the edge, yelling his name all the way.

  Michael nuzzled her before briefly kissing her sex, his mouth as tender as the softest silk. All too soon, he sat up, the physical and emotional separation beginning before he even spoke.

  “I should be going,” he stated, in spite of the impressive and what had to be, painful erection tenting his suit slacks.

  “But what about you?” Mary asked, drawing her dress closed, her green eyes confused.

  As Michael grabbed his suit coat, he turned and smiled at her, a melancholy smile that whispered a thousand goodbyes in a glance.

  “Don’t worry about me,” he said, opening the door, stepping out of her apartment and out of her life.

  Chapter 9

  Mary fought the fog clogging her brain and nestled deeper into her firm, fluffy pillows, turning over to her left side hoping to prolong her night’s sleep a little bit longer. Just a few more minutes. She loved the stability of her teaching routine, the Monday through Friday schedule, but the payment the early mornings extracted from her, left her tired by the time Friday rolled around. She took advantage of sleeping in whenever she could on the weekends.

  Her disorientation was minor, but distinct, as though something wasn’t quite right, but she couldn’t identify what it was. Something tugged at the back of her mind. She’d slept well, not waking once, a rarity in and of itself.

  Then it hit her. All of it from the night before. Michael. The drive. The dinner. The flirting. His shy smiles that made her feel more special than the rarest gems, as though she were something special by being on the receiving end. Not to mention that incredible orgasm.

  Him leaving.

  She remembered everything. Granted, it hadn’t ended quite like the time before, but she recognized her frustration for what it was.

  They’d had a great night. As a date, it rated a definite fifteen on a scale of ten, from beginning to end. The silences were pleasant, not awkward. Because they’d known each other for so long, even though they hadn’t stayed connected through all the years, there was an ease to their conversation and time with each other. It felt easy to be with him, to tell him more about her parents, why The Go-Gos were the best ‘80s female band, and why she’d never been able to get into golf, either as a spectator or participant, an activity they both agreed shouldn’t qualify as a sport.

  There wasn’t anything Mary would have changed until the very end. She’d wanted to be with Michael last night. The one-way ticket didn’t work for her on any level. Mary enjoyed sex. Always had. She never identified with those women who claimed sex was a pain or preferred a big bowl of ice cream. Ice cream had its uses, but so did skin to skin contact. There was no equating the two. The feeling and connection of being with someone who was as into you as you were into them, was something incapable of being manufactured.

  Evidently her solid REM cycles were a legacy of the orgasms she’d had and had and had last night. The sex shouldn’t have been one-sided, but it had been. She thought after he’d finished plying her with an orgasm, she’d return the favor.

  He’d had other things on his mind.

  Like leaving.

  He’d left before she could do or say anything or prevent his exit. When Michael left, he’d looked sad and resigned, darkly pensive. In her experience, men weren’t selfless creatures, especially when it came to making love. But Michael had been generous, giving her everything, demanding nothing in return.

  She sat up and stretched as Max nudged his cold, wet nose into her arms to let her know it was time to roll out of bed and hit the pavement before she had to deal with any unfortunate accidents in the living room. Mary swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her pink and white gingham checked flannel sheets caressed her tired and sore legs, no doubt a remnant of the long workout she’d engaged in yesterday to prep for her date. Too bad she wasn’t sore in all the right places for an entirely different reason. Like a long, good, heavy, horizontal workout. Now that she could have gotten behind.

  The more time she spent with Michael, the more he intrigued her. She was seriously, fundamentally attracted in the instinctive way of a woman when she recognizes a certain man could do a whole lotta things to her body, her mind, and her heart and she’d willingly go along for the ride, no questions asked, no stopping, no limitations. Only pure, undiluted pleasure.

  Last night by turns, Michael had been flirtatious, playful, serious, and ended the night in a sexy way. He still hadn’t mentioned anything about his family, never once referring to his parents or any siblings if he had them. But what they had talked about filled in a lot of blanks. Michael loved music, the heavier, the harder, the better. Mary could tell they shared the belief music should always be playing either in the car, during workouts, or when hanging out at home.

  Michael was uninformed about pop culture but seemed amused she’d known so much about the world of entertainment. Who was dating who, who was breaking up, and who was pregnant by who. He’d been completely content to let her talk about it as long as she wanted to, asking appropriately silly questions and laughing at the right times regarding the absurdity of Hollywood.

  He was serious about football as a career and a lifestyle choice. While Michael was reluctant to talk about himself, he shared that he worked out almost every day in addition to his daily team practices, viewed food as simply fuel to make his body function at its highest level, and treated his job as one requiring constant vigilance to maintain his performance level and stay on top of the Tide’s opponents.

  He was a workaholic enigma wrapped up in a trim navy and silver Tide uniform who seemed legitimately interested in Mary’s career, her friends, her family, and her own taste in music.

  Throwing on her sweats, she let Max lead her out the door and contemplated her next move as Max motored to his favorite tree and let it fly. It was apparent that if their relationship was going to progress, she would have to be the one to drive it forward. If Michael had been interested only in sex, he could have had her last night. She certainly had been willing. Instead, he’d left in a painfully erect state with no discussion or explanation as to what was on his mind or why he was leaving.

  While Calleigh loved to tease her about her belief in destiny, she strongly believed in the fact that sometimes fate needed a firm nudge in the right direction. Every
woman was responsible for her own destiny and if she wanted things to change in her life, she had to take the bull by the horns and make it happen. If she wanted to pursue this, whatever “this” was with Michael, it was up to her to make it a reality. And strike while the iron was still hot.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  Wednesday’s practice had given new meaning to the term grueling. Michael had undergone some seriously tough fucking workouts in his career, both during college and once he’d turned pro, but the one he’d just finished made all others look like they’d only been playing at practicing.

  Coach had some serious superstitions about how screwed every team always was after a free week. As a result, he’d decided to make it his personal mission to work out every last one of his players to the point where they were praying for Sunday to arrive if only to escape their daily practices. Michael’s legs were as heavy as the goal posts, his arms protesting against even bending over to pick up his gym bag as he made his way out of the locker room. The Tide had a bye the prior week, a day that Michael had ended up alternating between sweating his frustration out and reliving every minute detail of Saturday night in exquisite pleasure. And pain.

  It had been, without a doubt, the best night of his entire life. Mary was…terrific. Sweet, funny, spicy, soft, and womanly. She was easy to talk to and it was as though they’d always known each other. He hadn’t talked that long with anyone in…forever. He could have talked to her all night. He loved her voice, its slight Midwestern accent emphasizing her vowels more. Her way of looking at the world was inspiring, as though everything and everyone in it was good and positive. Anyone could accomplish anything, especially her students. Hell, the way she talked about them and some of the stuff they’d overcome and the way she looked at him--like he was ten feet tall and as strong as his entire team, made him feel like he could accomplish anything. If only for her.

  He’d never known a woman like her. A female of true quality on the inside and out, her sunny, smart-alecky personality a perfect fit for her voluptuous body.

  Mary was sexy as hell. The dress she’d worn had hugged her curves in all the right places. Sitting across from her at Three Doors Down, he’d focused on what she was saying, but sometimes, in the solitude, he simply looked and appreciated the sight before him. The slight freckles dusting her cheeks and cleavage. Her green eyes that changed colors along with the illumination, sometimes lighter, sometimes darker. At her collarbone that beckoned for his mouth. He’d wanted to plant soft kisses all across the top of her collarbone, but he’d restrained himself. That would have been way too intimate. For both of them.

  It had definitely been far too long since he had been with anyone because he’d forgotten how erotic the sounds of sex were. How exciting the sounds were. Or maybe he’d never noticed with the women he was with before. But Saturday night, he’d been all about the hitched breaths that telegraphed her arousal, the throaty purrs she emitted when she was on the edge of coming, the impatient pulls and the exasperated “pleases.” The satisfied moans when he’d pleasured her as much as she could possibly stand.

  He’d loved every second of going down on her and could have stayed that way for years. Decades. Centuries. She’d tasted delicious, both juicy and pleasing even though she was shy about her body, as though it was something to be ashamed of.

  That he could completely relate to.

  For Mary, her apprehension was entirely misplaced. She was curvaceous and lovely. Soft tits that pleaded for his touch, his attention, his complete and utter focus. Soft thighs that welcomed him and held him captive.

  Mary deserved everything. Everything a man was supposed to provide for his woman. A two-story house with lots of fancy dancy flowers, backyard pool, double garage, riding lawn mower, and big kitchen. She would love a big kitchen where she could strut her culinary stuff. Saturdays filled the kinds of activities his teammates swapped stories about: soccer games, baseball tournaments, swimming lessons, school carnivals, and trips to Home Depot. A happy, normal husband who wanted to take care of her in every way--financially, physically, and emotionally. A husband she could be proud of. Would be proud to introduce to her friends and the family she was close to.

  Christ, he wanted nothing more than to spend more time with her. Talking to her. Loving her. The problem was that he had nothing to offer her. He wasn’t attractive on any level, except for maybe his bank account and Mary wasn’t superficial. Even if she was, one look at his back combined with learning about Don and Sue Ellen and she’d be rethinking whether any account balance could make up for it. His body was a fucking mess, full of scars not even his teammates were aware he had. They would repel any female, no matter how strong her fortitude.

  And those were only his physical problems. His emotional make-up and genetic legacy wouldn’t gain him any awards for Husband of the Year. Ummm, yeah, Mary? You know how I never talk about my family? Well, here’s the deal….

  She would never want him if she knew the truth.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  Mary spotted Calleigh’s bright orange fleece at the opening to the Leif Erikson trail in Forest Park, stretching her long legs behind her as Mary approached her. The two had postponed their prior hiking date given the torrential rain that had hammered Portland.

  “Whoever said orange is the new pink is seriously disturbed,” Mary teased, coming up next to her and bending her own right leg to stretch her hamstrings.

  Calleigh flipped up her long blonde mane and laughed. “Good morning to you too, Elle Woods. Funny, you don’t look the way I envisioned you. A little less blonde and a little smarter.” Calleigh’s sunglasses shielded her eyes, but anxious distress poured out of her.

  “What’s up?” Mary asked as they hit the trail among throngs of bikers, families with strollers, dogs, runners and walkers.

  “Oh you know. Same-old, same-old. Lauren remains certifiable and is pushing me to try some new vegan diet. I don’t know if any of my students are going to pass remedial Algebra this year and I’m starting to think it’s my approach that’s not getting through. Oh, and David Shalvington said he wouldn’t go out with me if I was the last woman on earth.”

  The fact Calleigh delivered her last sentence with the same inflection and flat delivery as she mentioned Lauren’s fiftieth diet plan was the clearest sign of exactly how distressed she was.

  “What?”

  “Lauren evidently doesn’t realize that even though I don’t eat much of it, I love cheese, meat, ice cream and eggs. Dairy here I come. If I could have found a loft within fifty feet of a Dairy Queen, I would have bought it quicker than a beauty queen buys a new set of boobs.”

  “Calleigh.” Mary’s tone was soft, gentle. It was clear Calleigh was spooked enough as is. During the best of times, it took a lot of prodding to open up her heart and her feelings. God only knew how much Mary was going to have poke at her until Calleigh reached the true root of her upset. It was like having a molar extracted without Novocain. Only more painful.

  “What?”

  “You know Lauren isn’t what we need to discuss. Next week she’ll find some new fad she’ll be convinced will yield life-long results, you’ll ignore her like you always do, and move on. Lauren’s diet of the day is not what’s important. David is.”

  “What’s to discuss? He thinks I’m the most repugnant woman on the face of the earth. I have snakes coming out of my head, scales on my skin, and no teeth.”

  “He said that?”

  “No.” Mary didn’t have to see Calleigh’s eyes to know she’d rolled them. Two times, no doubt.

  “He didn’t have to. The fact he said, and I quote, ‘You’re not my type and you’re never going to be my type. I wouldn’t date you in a million years if you were last woman on earth,’ was enough. I mean, what else remains after hearing that?”

  “Prick.”

  “Yeah. I mean, couldn’t he have said thanks but no thanks? Or say yes and then break the date at the last minute? Isn’t that what men are supposed to do to let a
girl down easy?”

  The sun streaming through the dense trees provided almost a touch too much shade for Mary’s taste. Bikers pumped their legs and propelled their mountain bikes past them while highly motivated runners treated the upward slope like it was as flat as Ashlee Simpson. Mary considered all of her options before offering her response. “That’s what’s strange. I mean, there are a million different ways he could have turned you down. Why does he do it in the way a five year old child would?”

  “Because he evidently has not only the vocabulary of a kindergartner, but the emotional capacity of one also.”

  Mary emitted a nervous chuckle.

  “Maybe. It might be more.”

  “Why? Why does it have to be more than that? Maybe he’s a mean-hearted SOB. Period. End of story. No passing Go. No collecting $200.”

  Mary shrugged. “I suppose, but I don’t know. There are at least five other things he could have said that would have been a lot more benign and wouldn’t have made it awkward for you the next time you see him.”

  “Like what?”

  “He could have said he’s seeing someone. He could have said he broke up with someone and isn’t interested in dating. Or he’s in a weird transition. Any of those would have worked.”

  “Those are only four options, Mary. You’ve lost your touch.”

  “Whatever. You get my drift. There are several other ways he could have reached the same result without the collateral damage. He didn’t and I think there must be some reason why.”

  Calleigh guffawed. “Yeah, Mary. I’m sure. Like, maybe he’s madly in love with me and I’m too much woman for him to handle. Or I intimidate him. My ass. Why do we, as women, try and justify men’s bad behavior?”

  “I’m not justifying it. I’m trying to understand it.”

  “You know how you can’t understand stupid? Well, you can’t understand asshole either. We shouldn’t waste our time trying.”