The weather was cool as Harold Hill closed his musical emporium for the evening. The April air still carried a vestige of winter's chill, and both Harold and young Tommy Djilas pulled their coats tighter around their frames as they bid each other goodnight.
By the time Harold finally stepped through his front door, darkness had firmly established its presence. The music professor knew he was returning home far later than his usual six o'clock, but still, he was surprised to find the house quiet. Usually the melody of a sonata greeted him when he arrived home in the evenings. If not that, then he could depend upon hearing the sounds of Marian bustling in the kitchen and the enticing aroma of their dinner wafting into the front hallway.
But tonight, there was nothing but silence. Intrigued, but not overly concerned by the lack of activity, Harold took the time to place his wool coat in the front closet and hang his Mackinaw on the hat rack near the front table. After several months of gentle, yet persistent encouragement, he had finally succumbed to the inevitable truth that each of his belongings had a specific place when they weren't on his person. Although it had taken him a while to cotton on to the idea, he had eventually come around. He could still recall Marian's satisfied smirk the first time he had taken the extra few minutes required to walk to the music room and deposit his briefcase by his desk there after she'd given him a heated glare when he first placed it by the hall table. He pointedly returned to the parlor and took a seat in his chair, reaching for the newspaper. Amused by his sulking, Marian merely plucked it from his hands and laid it back down on the end table, before proceeding to situate herself on his lap and give him a longer-than-usual hello. After that evening, Harold had no difficulty in remembering where his possessions belonged.
But now, he was curious as to where his most precious asset was currently located. Peeking into the parlor, he was disappointed to find it deserted. He had expected to see his wife sitting at the end of the couch, book in hand, thoroughly engrossed in whichever Austen novel she'd happened to choose from their bookcase. Sadly though, the corner was empty and parlor quiet, save for the soft crackling of the fireplace. Puzzled, Harold turned to leave, but halted in mid-step when a slight rustling caught his attention. Moving closer, his frown blossomed into a smile when he discovered Marian was indeed on the couch – her lithe form stretched along the cushions, arm tucked beneath her head.
Regarding his wife with affection, Harold knelt down beside her, content to simply observe her chest rise and fall with the rhythm of her breathing. As he gazed at Marian, his heart tightened: she was breathtaking – especially in peaceful slumber. Harold was reminded of the first time he first saw her, and the instant attraction he experienced when he spied her walking toward him in her neat dress suit and skirt. Her haughty look as she determinedly marched past the ruckus he'd created in Madison Park gave him momentary pause but, almost immediately thereafter, his competitive nature had surfaced, and he decided to pursue the lovely challenge the frosty music teacher so unwittingly presented.
Although their initial meeting had been rather cold and unproductive, Harold smiled as he recalled a similar moment in front of Marian's white fence only a few weeks later. That particular evening had been filled with heated glances and stolen embraces, made all the more poignant by the knowledge that their time together was fleeting. It was a shame he'd been unable to kiss Marian's inviting lips before the sheriff and townsmen snatched him away from his maiden librarian. But once everything had been settled at the high school and he escorted Marian home, Harold had made certain to thoroughly rectify that situation. He still grinned every time he recalled the dazed look that greeted him when he finally released her and ushered her through her door before he got carried away himself.
Harold shook his head in amusement. How far they managed to come in only a few short months! That evening in July, Marian had swooned over his heated, but still rather chaste kisses. It was a far different reaction from the evening spent at the footbridge as their impending marriage loomed closer. That night, his dear librarian had willingly pressed closer to him as he deepened their kiss. Harold had felt her heart hammering wildly against his chest, and it had taken an incredible effort of will to resist the urge to sink his hands into her delectable backside and press her closer to him to make her aware of his desire for her. Had he done so, he imagined Marian would have eagerly allowed him to take further liberties in the heat of the moment, but his conscience had reasserted itself and he'd backed away ruefully, confessing to her that it was probably best for them to return to the public eye lest they regret their actions in the morning. Marian had flushed crimson at his statement, but nodded quietly in agreement. When he left her at her mother's front door, he fought the temptation to kiss her again and instead brought her hands to his lips, communicating his love and desire for her through the ardent kisses he pressed against her smooth skin. Her heightened breathing had haunted his dreams that night, and as he lay in bed with only his fantasies to keep him company, he once again thanked his stars that the marriage was only a week away. He didn't think he could last much longer than that.
Now as he regarded his sleeping bride, Harold was struck by her contented appearance. She seemed so innocent, and in many ways, she was still the same morally-sound woman he had met July third. But marriage had changed his blushing bride, and he smiled as he contemplated the side of Marian to which only he was privy. Although his wife would probably always retain the vestige of virtue that had defined her maidenhood, Harold knew an amorous woman lay behind the demure façade. Four months of marriage had certainly revealed that. After their passionate honeymoon in Des Moines, Harold had taken great pleasure in introducing Marian to the wonderful and new avenues marriage had afforded them. Although somewhat hesitant at first, his reticent librarian slowly overcame her shyness and began exploring theses new facets of marriage with a growing sense of curiosity and a burgeoning enjoyment that had caused the music professor to arrive late to rehearsal on more than one occasion. Fortunately, Marcellus Washburn was well aware that the idea of waking up next to a wife was still rather novel for Harold and, as such, his former shill took steps to ensure no one ever suspected the true reasons for the professor's tardiness. Harold smiled. He still owed his old partner for that foresight. Perhaps he and Marian could invite the Washburns over for dinner in the near future. That would be a good start.
But right now, as he watched his wife shift on the couch, a pleasant repast was the farthest thing from his thoughts. Sighing in contentment, he ran a hand tenderly along her thigh, feeling the fabric move beneath his fingers and the warmth of her skin seep through the material into his palm. As he did so, Marian stirred and a smile creased the corners of her mouth, but her breathing remained steady. Delight illuminated Harold's features, and he continued his caress. Even after four months of being a husband, the sight of his sleeping wife still thrilled him. It was a realization that never failed to amaze the smooth-talking salesman. He, the former conman who could never be satisfied staying in one place too long, now had a respectable profession, a home and a wife who was not only lovely, but also loyal beyond imagination. He still sometimes had difficulty believing that a woman as virtuous as Marian had seen a spark of good in a scoundrel like him. But for some reason, she had spied some redeeming quality in her music professor, and for that, Harold would always be grateful. Brushing away a stray wisp of honey-blonde hair that framed her face, he knelt down beside her and gazed at her with quiet affection. The desire to kiss her sleeping lips was powerful, but as he watched Marian's chest rise and fall with her steady breaths, he was enticed by a more mischievous thought.
Grinning uncontrollably, he moved his hands to the fastenings on her collar and began to unbutton them with familiar ease. When the smooth line of her neck was finally revealed to him, he lowered his head so his mouth rested against the hollow of her throat. He paused for a moment, content to simply breathe in his wife's lovely fragrance. But as his desire for Marian began to blossom, he allowed his lips to trail across her fair skin in heated kisses while his right hand languidly crept along her waist and torso until it closed over her breast in a gentle caress. The soft moan that escaped Marian, even in sleep, encouraged Harold to continue his ministrations and his other hand slid beneath the hem of his wife's gown. When his tongue traced a pattern to her ear and then captured her earlobe between his lips, Marian began to stir. Just as his hand came to the edge of her stocking and closed around Marian's bare thigh, he felt his wife's hands come to rest on his shoulders, her fingers sinking into the fabric of his shirt as she quietly called out his name, her voice still laden with the remnants of sleep.
"Harold?"
"Yes," he breathed softly against her hair as his hands continued their seductive journey.
Marian moved beneath his hands in an almost unconscious reaction. When her eyes fell to the hand intimately caressing her, the librarian's cheeks darkened, but she didn't protest. Instead, she raised her lips to Harold's for a kiss, sighing in delight when he pulled away.
"You're home awfully late," she chided. Her head had come to rest against the arm of the sofa again, and a few stray wisps of hair fell away from her chignon to charmingly frame her face.
Harold nodded. "I am," he confirmed and leaned in for another kiss. "The weekly shipment was larger than expected, so Tommy and I stayed late to inspect all of it." He glanced at her and smiled mischievously. Marian looked around self consciously and then gave him a quizzical glance.
"What is it?"
Harold's smile broadened. "I don't think I've ever come home to find you sleeping in our parlor," he explained.
Marian's cheeks crimsoned and she moved as if to sit up, but Harold placed a tender hand on her shoulder, halting her movements.
"I don't find it scandalous, darling." He winked and rose, settling himself beside her on the edge of the cushion. "If you must know, I actually find it quite endearing."
Leaning in, his gaze steadily watching her, Harold began to leisurely unbutton more of her gown. "Do you know what else?"
Marian merely shook her head in silent response.
"I find the sight of you reclining against our parlor sofa quite seductive," he admitted as he finished with the last button and eased the gown apart, casually running his hand along her corset. A wicked gleam flashed in his eyes and he leaned closer. "Did you intentionally set out to seduce me?"
Harold was delighted to witness a teasing smile blossom across his wife's face as she carefully considered his question. Four months ago, Marian would have demurred with a blush and a quiet rebuke for such forward behavior. But tonight, she lay before him, her gaze thoughtful. When her hand came to rest on his thigh and began to stroke him through the coarse Cheviot fabric of his trousers, he felt his breath catch and once again marveled at Marian's effortless ability to throw him off balance with her mere touch. When she finally spoke, her voice was low and tinged with passion.
"That certainly wasn't my intent, Professor Hill," she admitted with a soft laugh.
Harold grinned, enamored, her teasing tone and steady caresses filling his thoughts with delightful imaginings involving Marian and their sofa. His lips curled in a rueful smile.
"Well, that's certainly a shame," he drawled in an affected tone, "Because I would have been flattered had that been your intention, Madam Librarian."
Harold felt his own desire increase as he witnessed the heat flare in his wife's eyes at his bold admission. Deciding to further enflame those embers, he lowered his head until his mouth could trace open-mouthed kisses along the front of her open gown, his lips trailing lower along her corset. Harold grinned against the warm fabric when he heard Marian's breathing quicken and her soft sighs melt into heated moans. But ever the lady, his darling librarian still hesitated to fully succumb to his persistent persuasion.
"Harold, we're on the sofa," she protested weakly even as her fingers fluttered to his hair and began to trail through his wavy locks as she pressed closer to him.
"Indeed, we are," he affirmed with a wide grin. "And you look absolutely lovely. What man could resist such an inviting tableau?" he asked, his gaze roaming along the curves beneath her thin garment.
Marian's cheeks darkened, but she didn't reply. Instead, she silently conceded by reaching down and tugging his shirt out from his trousers. When her hand snaked up along his naked back and her fingernails gently scored his skin, Harold groaned against her stomach, waves of delicious pleasure coursing through him as her breath tickled his ear.
"If we're planning on staying here for the evening, perhaps you should stoke the fire," she suggested in a seductive whisper.
Harold lifted his head in pleasant surprise and stared at his wife as she twined her fingers through his locks, seemingly intent on discerning if Marian was entirely comfortable with the situation. After several charged moments in which husband and wife simply gazed at each other, Harold finally nodded his consent and rose from the couch.
"Don't you move one inch, Madam Librarian," he cautioned. "I have plans for you. Specific plans."
An arched eyebrow was Marian's only response to her husband's provocative statement, but giggles soon followed and Harold couldn't blame her. He must look a sight kneeling before the waning fire, his shirttails hanging over his trousers all the while muttering low curses as he struggled to rekindle the flame.
But her giggling quickly died off when Harold turned around and began to unbutton his shirt, his eyes steadily watching Marian as he methodically undressed, draping his shirt over the armchair, followed by his trousers a moment later and then his undergarments. He was absurdly pleased to see a seductive smile lift the corners of his wife's mouth as he eagerly returned to her side. A gentle hand beneath her elbow brought her to stand before him and then he was helping Marian from her gown, carefully placing it alongside his garments. Her corset was next, his practiced hands making quick work of the laces, and he delighted in the soft sighs that rewarded him when he boldly caressed his wife's familiar curves. Gentle kisses along her collarbone and neckline ensued as Harold resumed his delightful task until Marian stood before him, clad in nothing but firelight.
Taking the librarian in his arms, Harold lowered his head and captured her lips in a heated kiss. As Marian melted into his embrace, the music professor gently maneuvered his wife onto the couch until his body fully covered hers. Languid kisses delved into passionate exploration and soon, the low moans of husband and wife mingled with the soft crackle of the hearth fire.
When Marian drew her legs to wrap around his waist, Harold groaned and was lost in the sensation of her smooth skin against his, a sharp contrast from the textured fabric of the cushions beneath his legs. He had never before made love to his wife anywhere other than their bed, and it thrilled him to witness Marian arch beneath him as he glided in and out of her while the flickering firelight illuminated her pale skin. The sound of her whispered entreaties filled him with joy. Although Marian had once been reticent and shy in their lovemaking, she displayed no such reserve now.
Tonight, her arms wound around his back until her hands could clutch his shoulders and bring him closer to her. Her eyes, squeezed tightly shut in pleasure, opened every few moments to gaze at him with undisguised longing and affection. Harold had never had a woman regard him with such honesty the way Marian did when they made love. A fierce wave of possessiveness coursed through him as Marian called out his name over and over and began to writhe in his arms. When her fingers sank into his skin and her legs tightened around him, Harold surrendered to his own pleasure and buried his face in her neck, his moans muffled against her skin as he tensed inside her and then shuddered several times before collapsing against her. A few minutes passed before his hammering heart slowed. When he was once again able to breathe evenly, he raised his head and looked at Marian with twinkling eyes.
"Well! I'd say that was a qualified success." His satisfied smile and gleeful tone were not lost on his wife, who had the good grace to appear mildly shocked by his bold assertion.
"Harold!"
Flashing Marian an unrepentant grin, Harold brought his mouth to hers for a languid kiss as his fingers sank into her loose curls. To his pleasant surprise, Marian slid her leg around his waist and deepened their embrace. But when she began to move against him again, he felt his control of the moment begin to slip and he broke their kiss.
"Marian," he groaned, pulling her tightly against him when he felt her hands glide along his slick back before settling just below his waist and cupping him to her. When she began to caress him, Harold raised his head, somewhat startled, to stare at her. Although his wife had become less inhibited about expressing her desire for him during the past months, she had never been so bold as to openly tease him in such a manner. Finding it wildly erotic, he briefly wondered what prompted this new level of passion from his wife, but his thoughts quickly scattered when he felt Marian's hands slide up to his chest and insistently push against him. Being maneuvered until he was lying on his back was a novel experience for him – especially when it was initiated by his charming wife. His amazement continued to grow when Marian moved from the couch to stroke the fire and then returned, awkwardly straddling him and looking at him with uncertain eyes.
Harold realized his feelings of wonder and elation must've been clearly evident in his eyes, because his wife's expression transformed from hesitant to confident in a matter of moments. Indeed, her cautious demeanor was replaced by a self-awareness that Harold found thrilling. Although he had introduced her to this aspect of lovemaking a few months ago, they had only engaged in it once or twice since then, as Marian had seemed somewhat taken aback by it. His breath caught in his throat as he suddenly realized this was the first time Marian had initiated such a moment, and he couldn't help looking at her with curious eyes.
But before he could even utter his question, Marian gazed at him with that honest expression of hers and simply replied, "I want to see you as we make love, darling." She blushed, but only slightly, and her gaze never wavered. "And … I want you to see me."
Harold felt his throat constrict as Marian's heartfelt admission of desire washed over him. Her honesty continued to take him aback, even now. No woman had ever given herself so fully to him as Marian did. Reaching up, he curled his hands around her waist and gazed at her, his fingers gliding across her smooth skin in a tender caress.
"Oh my dear little librarian," he sighed and simply lay there, content to share the charged silence with his wife.
When Marian merely smiled but said nothing, Harold knew she understood the things he'd left unsaid. Offering a silent thanks to whatever deity was responsible for her in his life, he gazed fondly back at her in return. But as Marian continued to watch him, her affectionate expression slowly gave way to mischief and a playful smirk danced about her lips. Harold cocked his head, puzzled by the sudden change, but realization quickly came when he felt his wife's warm hands begin to slowly trail down his chest, her destination clearly evident even to his addled mind. As his eyes fluttered shut in contented pleasure, his last coherent thought was that, in the future, he would need to find inventive ways to entice Marian to fall asleep on their parlor sofa more often.