Mark felt an eager and strangely overpowering desire to get out of his office, out of the plant, see Shylah, and get the prenatal appointment finished. He desperately wanted to know that the baby was alright and just to be away from the place that he was coming, more and more, not to like and feel unneeded in, to have respite and rest. He stuck it out, waiting until after one o'clock before leaving. He hadn't done much of anything at all that day, nothing more than look over an inventory register, orders for materials still to be received, and production estimates from the first completed weekday schedule. Already, the new, weekend shift had begun for the first time in as long as Mark could remember. He knew that his father had tried it for a number of years but had found that recessions led to overproduction. Mark had every bit of hope that he and Don could turn that around and avoid what Thomas had encountered.
Everything looked good, almost too good. The weekday shift produced a higher volume of product than they had in the six months prior to the plant's closing. It seemed that there was definitely truth to the saying that happy employees work harder, and Mark was sure that he had done everything to keep his employees happy thus far. Everyone, at least, everyone that was not brand new to the place, was adamant in their joy over receiving pay increases and even better benefits, the latter part being something that Mark devised at the last minute, giving everyone even better health insurance and making sure that Don worked toward improving the company's 401k program. Everyone was given more sick days and vacation days, to boot. It was the happiest that Mark had ever seen any of his employees. He was happy that they were happy, but he was unhappy in his own feelings of inadequacy and in his questioning of his place in the company.
Mark happily rushed from his office at one-fifteen and out into the parking lot, speeding through a drive-through to get food for himself and for Shylah. It seemed funny but also beneficial and satisfying to be done with work so early in the day. Shylah had already eaten but saw no problem in eating again. She knew that the desire to eat constantly would only increase with the coming months.
After learning that their baby had begun to develop its upper lip and nose, that its heart had already undergone the most important parts of its development, that its fingers and toes were now prominently showing, that bones and cartilage were now evident, along with eyelids and the tongue, Mark and Shylah were alight with giddiness. Shylah, however, soon felt her joy turn to contempt as she was chastised by her doctor for smoking. She wished that she had been able to lie when asked about it, but she could not. She was raised to never lie and felt unable, as if her mouth could not even begin to try such a thing.
On the drive home, Mark informed Shylah of what had happened to Sara and of what had happened to Tim Redenour. Shylah showed great indifference to the news of Sara but tremendous joy over the capture of Redenour. It only served to remind Mark all the more of his own callousness toward the matter of his now dead sister. He wished that either he or Shylah, one of them, could feel a sense of loss and grief, but they could not. Neither could feel any real feelings of sorrow about Sara's passing. Mark hoped that his lack of empathy was not because of what Sara did to him, not because he did not care at all, and not because of his changing feelings toward his father. He told himself that it very well could be because he hardly knew Sara. She was a part of his life for less than two weeks before she shot him. At the creeping thought of the shooting, however, Mark felt an uncontrollable anger build once more and felt like cursing Sara for it.
Mark suddenly had an idea. It seemed that he and Shylah were forced to spend far too much time at home lately, Mark constantly besieged by headaches, both of them often relegating themselves to positions of boredom, with nothing much at all to do. Sex was always a wonderful retreat from things, but it only happened so often and for so long and had only recently begun to return to anything resembling its former status, Mark finally being able to devote himself to the tasks at hand, but still a shadow of his former self. He attempted to make up for his shortcomings with lots of offerings to please Shylah with things other than intercourse, a great deal more oral pleasure than was before offered, though he could not perform even this task nearly as well as he once did. He knew that something needed to be done. They had never gone away together, and he did not want to wait until the honeymoon to do so. Perhaps, he thought, a trip would change things for the better.
Mark suggested that Shylah finally accompany him somewhere, anywhere that was not the "same ol', same ol'." Shylah hesitatingly agreed to the offer but did not know where exactly it was that they should go. Mark thought of taking Shylah to Atlanta and letting her shop until she dropped or of heading to Myrtle Beach or Savannah, anywhere with great food and great scenery.
Mark settled on Savannah. He had not been there in years, and he was pretty certain that Shylah had never been. "Think about it, Baby. We could take one of those carriage rides where you go look at all the old houses and cemeteries. We could go out to Tybee Island and spend some time on the beach. We could eat out at some of the outdoor restaurants. We'll have a hell of a time! We'll get the best hotel room we can find! You can go shoppin', if you want to. I might just sit around while you do that, but hey, you can buy some souvenirs for T. and your parents. We get to get away, spend real quality time together, away from everybody and away from just sittin' around the house, and I think maybe we could, I don't know, maybe rekindle some of what we lost when I got shot, if you know what I mean."
After some of the quickest packing that anyone has ever done, the couple headed toward Savannah. They rented the finest hotel suite that they could find for the entire weekend. As soon as they were inside, Mark pushed Shylah down onto the bed and ravaged her. They lost themselves so completely in animal lust for one another that they forgot that they had not eaten since early that afternoon. It was passion unleashed, love unbridled, and pure desire incarnate. Hour after hour passed in such blissful union, neither knowing when one session ended and another began. Though Mark felt the occasional pang in his stomach or head, he fought through it, devoting himself entirely to his giving of himself fully.
Within several hours, it became clear that Mark and Shylah had worked their way through every possible sexual position, even managing to invent a few of their own. It was the best sex that either of them could remember ever having, with each other or with anyone else. Eventually, Shylah begged for food but found that she had no strength to stand, let alone walk. Her legs gave out completely as she attempted to rise, falling back onto the bed, immediately grabbed by Mark as her head came within two inches of his side. With his left hand around Shylah's side and cupping her left breast, Mark offered to order food for them from room service, if it were not too late, or to go somewhere and pick something up.
It was nearing ten p.m. Mark looked over the room service menu and found several things that sounded intriguingly appetizing but soon found the fine print at the bottom that said most items were not available after nine p.m. He hurriedly threw on his clothes and rushed out the door after giving Shylah a breath-stealing kiss. There were plenty of fast food restaurants still open, not to mention numerous pizza restaurants. He luckily found one that sold not only pizza but various pastas, open until midnight. Quite pleased with his options, Mark brought back linguini, chicken pomodoro, and fusilli with roasted tomatoes and shrimp. It all seemed good at the time and a wide array. If Shylah did not find something she liked out of the three, Mark thought, then she was far too hard to please.
Shylah, however, was excited about having so much to choose from and happily devoured large portions from all three pasta items. Mark worried, at first, that Shylah might not leave much for him, but as long as she was happy and eating well, that was all that really mattered. Mark listened, wanting so badly to laugh, as Shylah moaned in ecstasy, slurping noodles from their containers, letting so many of them dangle across her lower lip. It was one of the most delicious meals that she had ever had, and it was obvious to the other occupant of the suite.
> The rest of the weekend, Mark and Shylah were closer to one another than they had ever imagined possible. They could not leave each other's side longer than enough time to visit the bathroom. They took all of their showers together, always ending with them tearing into one another, engaging in violently risky sex, given their physical conditions and the slipper surroundings.
They could hardly escape the hotel the entire time in Savannah. No matter how they tried to get out, they kept going back to the suite and having the wildest, most fulfilling sex possible, though never topping their previous sessions that weekend. Both thought that each time surpassed the one before it, but it didn't. Each time was utterly exhaustive, completely satisfying, leaving both parties spent as could be. They managed to, only occasionally, venture out into the city and partake of its historic beauty but somehow always went back to the hotel. When they made these attempted forays, one of them would not fail to look lovingly and desirously at the other as they held each other's hand. This was all that was necessary to create the spark of hopeless want that led back to the bed, or the shower, or the floor, or a chair, or all of the above.
They did all of the things that they said they would, but none of them for very long. The longest venture out was to Tybee Island and its beautiful Savannah Beach, though the temperature never rose above seventy degrees, a little too cold for either of them to want to go more than wading distance into the ocean. More than two hours were spent, strolling up and down the beach, hand in hand, mostly walking in the gently rolling surf. It was so picture perfect on that Saturday afternoon that Shylah could not help but continually marvel at the beauty all around her. She had not seen the ocean since she was very little and could remember almost nothing of it.
"This, I think, may be the most amazing day I ever had, Baby," Shylah said as she leaned upward to plant a kiss on Mark's face, the two of them having finally stopped to survey all of the scenery before them and behind them.
A little further up the beach, Mark stole away from Shylah for a couple of minutes while she walked inland to look for the rarer-colored of the beach's seashells. While she was gone, Mark used a long driftwood stick that washed ashore to carve a large heart in the sand and inside of the heart, "I LOVE YOU SHYLAH
YOU AND ME
FOREVER"
Mark begged Shylah to come to where he was, but to little producible effect. Again and again, he begged. Finally, by the fourth such request, Shylah reluctantly trudged over to see what was written in the sand. Her heart melted at the sight, but more so when she saw Mark kneeling beside the message.
"Shylah, I know I already asked you, and you already said yes, but I love you so much, and I have to do what my heart tells me to. I can't help but wanna do this, right here, right now. I love you too much for words. Will you still be my wife?"
With her hand held to her mouth, Shylah slowly whispered for Mark to rise. "Get up, Baby. People are watching."
"You never answered me, though," Mark protested.
"You know the answer. We already planned the wedding. It's in less than a month. You know I'm gonna marry you."
"Just go along with it. Answer like it's the first time."
"Ok then. Yes, Baby. Of course, I'll marry you! Now, please get up."
Shylah felt deeply embarrassed as she saw many others stopping to watch the spectacle. Several cheered the happy couple, thinking that they had not already been engaged. Shylah found herself far more embarrassed around complete strangers than she did around her family and friends. Around everyone back home, Shylah had no trouble showing public affection, but such an extreme showing, in a strange place, as beautiful as it was, made her want to crawl under a rock and hide forever.
Mark rose from his bent position and threw his arms around Shylah, showering her with kisses. He knew that it all embarrassed her to no end. It was exactly what Mark hoped for, yet he also wanted there to be more enthusiasm on Shylah's part, perhaps, her becoming overly excited in response to such a romantic gesture.
After dinner at a seaside bistro, Mark and Shylah spent much of the evening strolling down the historic streets of the city, stopping to view the dimly-lit sites that they had not seen from their carriage seats that morning. It all seemed so magical, so breathtaking, so awe-inspiring that neither wanted to have to go back home. They knew that would have to, of course, but it was the last thing that either wanted. The only draw back to the house was that there was a wedding to hold in less than a month's time.
Before ten o'clock struck, the couple began pawing each other ferociously in the street. Mark thought it odd that Shylah could not stand a little bit of public affection yet she could claw at him in public, nearly tearing his clothes from his body. Though Mark felt great desire stirring within him and the sensations of the loins that every man gets from time to time, he hoped to stay out longer, to really take in the scenic, panoramic views that the city had to offer. He and Shylah could have sex any time, but how often would they be in such a rich, beautiful city such as Savannah, he asked himself. There would always be times and places for the first but seldom opportunity to enjoy the latter.
There was little choice, however. If Shylah wanted to go back to the hotel, once again, there was nothing that Mark could do to fight it. He began to think of some way to plead with Shylah to save her plans for later, but he could not get the words to form that would initiate such a plea. The couple jaunted, nearly ran, all the way back to their hotel, grabbing and poking at one another as they went, ready to engage in what Shylah thought might be their best escapade yet and Mark knew would probably not be. It seemed to him impossible to top earlier trysts.
The remainder of the night was spent in the same, torrid embraces as before, both becoming lost and tangled with the other, yet Mark felt a languishing, the loss of all vitality of excitement. He always enjoyed every second with he and Shylah prying at one another, delving into their darkest, most desirous inner reaches and pulling out the most devious sexually recessive parts of themselves, yet it seemed that they were not maximizing the potential before them, not enjoying life to its fullest. Shylah was so enwrapped in the moment that she could not see the looks of doubt and near boredom in Mark's eyes. He put on a good show, hiding the fact that underneath everything, he was tormented with thoughts that Shylah was, perhaps, more insatiable than was he and not inclined to partake of all of the bounties that life offered to her. Constant, undeniable and unending sexual fulfillment was fine for home but not fine for every waking moment of a vacation.
Mark finally told himself, "Ah, what the hell," and gave himself over to Shylah completely, giving her everything that she obviously sought. Once Mark lost himself as totally as had Shylah already, he forgot what it was that he had doubts about or any questions about, instead, focusing entirely on his love and want of Shylah.
The two fell asleep in each other's arms, night soon giving way to day, much as they did so many times at home, before Mark's injuries were sustained. Completely unclothed and barely covered, their bodies became one, skin to skin, head on chest, hands everywhere. Mark informed himself, yea, convinced himself, before falling asleep, that he and Shylah had done everything that they needed to do, that there was no need of worrying about spending so much time in the hotel room. At least, he thought, they had all of the passion and love that they had ever had. The trip had rekindled everything, had brought back what seemed almost lost to them. None of it would have been so had Mark remained in good health, and it was refreshing and joyous to know that nothing had stripped him completely of his abilities and desires.
The next morning, after a quick romp in the bed and another on the floor, Mark and Shylah climbed into the shower. They had to be out of the suite by eleven o'clock and knew that if they were to do all that they needed to do, have breakfast, and be out of the hotel in time, they had to hurry. It was already past eight o'clock, and nothing had been done, aside from two successive rounds of very satisfying sexual excesses. Standing before one another in the shower,
nude, both carefully viewing the other with fixed eyes and even more fixated lust, it was obvious that a third time of inability to resist temptation had come around. They tried to fight their urges, but after Mark slowly washed Shylah's breasts, back, hips, and buttocks, he could take no more. He happily bent Shylah forward and continued to rub her across the entirety of her back before entering her, mind, body, and soul. The violent force of Mark's thrusts propelled Shylah so ever forward that they necessitated Shylah to grab onto the railing on the wall, as well as the faucet knob, barely able to hold herself up, doing all that she could to keep from flying headfirst into the wall or falling face-first onto the protruding chrome fixture below her.
That was all that they needed. Three times of intense and love-tossed sensuality was enough to kick start the day. They hurriedly put on their fresh clothes, though not before pawing at each other once again, Mark ripping Shylah's towel from her to gaze and wonder and the stupendous form before his eyes. Shylah looked far too good, in her natural state, for Mark to want to leave the place. He knew that he must, but it was now clear that they would never be able to hold back once they were back home. They would have to resume all of the adventure of that weekend.
Chapter 32
Mark and Shylah reluctantly returned to their home, saddened that they had to end their only vacation together thus far. Despite not doing much of anything at the plant, Mark still needed to be there, and Shylah needed to be available for any last minute work for the wedding. The centerpieces would arrive soon and need to be checked and possibly sent back. There could be problems with dresses, tuxedos, the cake, the other food, seating, or any number of other things. Selma Simmons had everything under control, Shylah reminded herself continually, but there was no telling that some problem would not rear its ugly and unwanted head.
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