A/N: This is when it starts getting rated M. Just to let you know.
Chapter 5
Mort had begun walking back to Starbucks. He passed the PETCO and Office Depot on his way back. Then some other stores he had passed and looked though. The people he saw before in the Salon had changed their positions. Some new people had come and gone while he was around the corner. He walked with his two bags in one hand and his free hand in his jacket pocket to keep from getting too cold. He walked faster then he had before to get to Starbucks faster now that it was closer to the time Nina was going on break. He had a whole half hour left, but he figured he start on some reading while he waited.
The novel he had just bought seemed to be an excitement to read and bonus it was in the horror section of the store which he almost always liked to look. Unlike some people who were into reading romance novels. He didn't much mind those people although they seemed a bit desperate for love. The thought of Sarah and Tabatha came to mind at the thought.
Sarah had picked up a few romance novels while he shopped there. The five books she held up against her chest were all romance novels. Maybe one was a horror or something rather different, but on the outside Mort noticed the romance ones. Like the kind that Fabio does the covers for. What was it with women and foreign muscular guys with long flowing hair?
Just then two people had passed Mort by. Holding hands, laughing at her boyfriends jokes, short chocolate brown hair blowing in the wind. Her boyfriend lite her up like the fireworks on the 4th of July. They must have been in their mid twenties. Two people in love. She almost ran into Mort's shoulder, but instead she looked up at him with a smile on her face. A smile also appeared on across Mort's face. A second later they had already passed by five feet behind Mort. Then like magic he realized he was standing in front of Starbucks.
Finally some warm air had chilled his body. He let out of sigh or relief. To be back in a warm atmosphere felt so good. He saw Nina over at the counter giving someone their change after buying a Tall Caffè Latte. The man took his change, said his thanks, and put his money into his wallet as he started his way out. Nina watched him head toward the door. Her eyes met Mort's who was just standing a foot away from the door. He raised his hand from his side to wave at her now that she was smiling back at him.
Mort began his way toward her letting his hand drop back down to his side. She had already begun helping another customer when Mort arrived at the counter. He stood the side so not to be in the way. The man was ordering his coffee while Mort waited to talk to Nina.
She had a very attended face like she was fascinated with what the man was saying. She was a very good listener, but this took the cake. Mort felt like laughing at the moment, but it didn't really seem like the right time nor the place. Her expression was much like the Tabatha's from Barns and Nobles when she had first come over to greet Mort. She asked him if he needed any help, but her face seem to have this captivate look to it.
"Ten minutes . . ." Nina said when she was done attending to the costumer.
All Mort's thoughts at the moment collided together into one big nothingness. "Yes?" he asked quite dully.
"I said just sit down and wait. I got ten more minutes." she repeated.
"Oh . . . sure." Mort did as she suggested. He took a sit over next to the window in the back of the room. He liked to be out of everyone's way so that he could have some privacy and quiet. It was quite quiet in the back due to the fact no one ever sits there. Except for when Mort and Nina talked, that's where they usually sat. No one was there to bother them.
Here their conversations could run for hours at a time. The light from the sun still shined though the window just enough to make the lighting look dim and shadowy. They found it to be really peaceful. It was something like some sort of a fortification that kids build when they are around six or seven to eight years old. Some place of their own that no one else goes to. Now they had to have more of a high tech fortress sense they were adults as known as The Dark Tower as they would joke about their little place in the corner.
The purple seat and the old dark red tables were too obsolete to be in the newly finished front. The place had been renovated a few months back when Mort first saw it. Nina was the one who suggested keeping the corner in the older look to make it look more elegant, but the manager just took it as a chance to save money. So long story short they kept the corner the same, but changed everything else. All the tables were a limed oak making the room look brighter.
He lay his bags on the ground beside him, quickly he reached into his bag from Barns and Nobles and pulled out The Devil's Tower. He opened the book to the first page. There after the contents page was a short paragraph from Marta reading a special thanks to her father and mother for their support. For they have always been there for me she had written. The paragraph ended with a dedication of the book to her father in his memory. He flipped to the next page where the first chapter had started and started reading.
He was sitting there for about fifteen minutes reading silently in The Dark Tower. He was already in the middle of the second chapter when he felt a slight tap on his shoulder. Mort quickly looked up from his book leaving half of his sentence unread. Nina was leaning over his shoulder from behind greeting him with a friendly hug. She walked around the table and took a seat across from him.
"What's that?" she asked eyeing at the book.
"Oh . . . it's a book that I bought today called The Devil's Tower." Mort replied.
"Really. Who's it by?"
"Well . . . that involves what I have to talk to you about."
"Ok make it fast, I'm starving." she said. She sat with her arms crossed over each other on the table with her head held up high. Mort closed up his book setting it to the side. When he looked back up at her she had a smile on her face, but Mort looked at her with serious eyes. His mouth began to move, but no sounds came out. He found himself opening and closing his mouth.
He'd think of how to start a sentence, but then stop himself. Everything that he seemed to be thinking of to say seemed to be something he wouldn't want to say when in fact he didn't want to have to say anything about Friday night. Nina's eyes began to widen. He wasn't sure how long he'd been silent.
"I'm not quite sure how to say it." He finally managed to get out.
"Oh come on Mort you can tell me it . . . whatever it is." Nina said full of sympathy for him.
"I . . ." he began. Come on Morty. Just say it. Say it! Say it! Say it! You cheated on Christine! I cheated on Christine!
"I cheated on Christine." Mort said aloud. He watched Nina's smile go to blank stare. She began to rub her elbows with the tip of her hands. Then she seemed to be looked at everything else expect Mort as if she was ashamed to even look at him. For a second she glanced down at the floor.
Then when she looked back up at Mort she had her regular face back to her. Mort wasn't sure what was running though her mind. What was she thinking? What was she going to say? She's really gonna kick your ass about this one, Morty.
"When?" she asked in a soft voice. Mort sighed with relief. He wasn't expecting that. Something more of a how could you or don't you love her kind of suited the situation better. What kind of a question was when anyway? Who asks when, when something like this happens? But one thing was for sure he was expecting; not to know the answer.
"Friday night." Mort replied.
"This pasted Friday night?" she asked.
"Yea." Mort said. He almost felt like asking her where was she going with this, but didn't.
"How'd it happen?" she continued to ask.
"Well we met when I went to see a movie . . ." Mort began. He told her the whole story every detail that had happened that night. His thoughts stopped begin stuck in his throat and came out like a bullet fired from a gun. All his thoughts poured out of him like a good wine. He spilt everything even the kiss at the end. It was most important part of his story.
"What are you going to do?" Nina asked once Mort had finished.
"I don't know." Mort quickly replied.
"You know your going to have to tell Christine." she said sincerely.
"Yea . . . I know. I just feel so badly about it."
"Do you love her?" Nina asked. "That important because if you don't . . . it wouldn't be fair for either of you to have that kind of relationship."
Her words stuck him like a knife. "Your right." he said. "What was I thinking?"
He closed his eyes then he was suddenly back with Christine. She was smiling in a approving way that she was satisfied by his gentle kiss. She handed Mort the McDonald's bag. He took it by the top and peeked inside like a kid in elementary school seeing what he mom had packed him for lunch.
Mort quickly sat down at his desk reaching inside the bag to pull out a Premium Spicy Chicken Sandwich. He placed the napkins down on his desk then opened the small box with the sandwich inside. Christine watched him as he took his first big bite of the sandwich with both hands holding the sides. His mouth let go of the sandwich with a big mouthful of chicken and the spicy sauce. The sauce filled his mouth with a burning sensation making Mort reach for the green cup filled water that had been sitting on his desk.
The liquid flowed down his throat with an mild taste. The heat in his mouth diminished and he gulped the remaining of the water down. Mort took another bite of his sandwich this time a smaller bite. The taste wasn't as hot as before so he took another small bite.
"Mort!" Christine shouted. Mort looked up to see the bedroom door opened. He hadn't seen her wonder into the other room. She was calling from the bedroom. The door was swung halfway opened. Her voice sounded surprised. Just he couldn't interpret whether it was a good scream or a bad scream. He didn't know what to think. From the sound of her scream she might my slit her own throat. It also could mean she seen something she wasn't supposed to see.
He got up from his seat and run to the door. With his heart pumping fast his entire body leaned against the door. His hand was on the door knob then it swung open. There was Christine standing front of the closet looking very much surprised. Her hands clutched to her chest but a smile came upon her face. Now I'm confused Mort thought.
"Christine?" he said almost whispering.
"You're making the closet bigger." she replied. She turned toward Mort and started walking toward him like she was about to start skipping.
"Yes." Mort replied.
"I didn't know you were capable." She came up to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.
"Well looks can be deceiving." Mort said. He remembered at the moment when Jason came over the other day to work on the closet once again. Mort was outside taking his afternoon walk down to the creek and back while Jason was hammering away inside the house.
Mort had stopped to get some more corn off the stock from his cornfield. He picked about seven of them and placed them in an old basket he had laying around. He came back into the house with the basket full of corn. He walked into the kitchen to peel the strips of husk off the corn. He put a pot of water on the stove and placed each ear or corn inside it. The water began to boil and six minutes later he ate his lunch. Jason smelt the corn from upstairs then came downstairs to join Mort. They ate the corn at the small table in the kitchen.
"I'll be done with your closet in about a week, Mort." Jason said taking another ear of corn from the steaming bowl.
"I appreciate it Jason, but you really don't have to." Mort replied. Jason came back into the table with his third serving of corn on his plate.
"I know but I want to." Jason said.
"I guess you'll want something in return." Mort said.
"No. Just to try and keep you in a relationship."
"I've been in a relationship before."
"Well look how that turned out." Jason took a seat across from Mort. "Look . . . Mort . . . you got to show them that you care . . . simple as that."
"I do."
"I'm not saying you do or don't I'm just saying that you should be thinking more into what she want's."
"That sounds a lot like telling me that I don't care." Mort said with an defending, but angered tone.
"Okay maybe I am but . . . but let me fix up your house a little, make her think it's you who doing it then take it from there."
"That sounds vacuous." Mort replied.
"Just do it . . . trust me." Mort did in fact trust Jason. He played along with his fibs for as long as they could last, so what if he wasn't the one building onto the closet. It was the fact that it was getting done that mattered. From the look on Christine's face when she found out was priceless. She had fallen for the little trick Jason had set up.
At the moment Mort didn't care. Her arms wrapped around his, her lips clasped onto his, her tongue massaging against his--she was kissing him like it was their first kiss. Her tongue slid out of his mouth then her lips loosened from his. They both stood there breathing against one another.
"That is so . . . thoughtful and sweet of you." she said.
"I'm glad you like it." he replied.
"Oh, Mort." she said then kissed him again. "I love it."
Maybe I should listen to Jason more often, Mort thought as she kissed him once again tenderly for a few minutes. Yet why couldn't he stay in his own relationship?
Her hands remained around his neck the whole time. It wasn't until she would bring her hands down to Mort's chest that was her signal that she wanted to stop. She must have felt that putting her hands against his chest was like pushing him off of her, but in a kind way Mort guessed. He never refused to stop kissing her when she touched his chest although he knew times when he wanted to refuse. It was just like Christine to have that kind of power over him.
"Let's just spend the whole day together." she suddenly said.
"You sure? You don't have work or anything?" Mort asked.
"My day is clear as rain." she said.
They had spent the whole day together that day. Apart from kissing in the bedroom Christine quickly finished up some work as Mort took a shower. Later that day they both took a walk to the lake. They took off their shoes to feel the cold water against their bare feet. Then they went out on a row boat Mort had tied up to the dock.
Mort rowed them out to the middle of the lake where they had a picnic lunch out of a small white basket. Christine had packed it while Mort sweeped the dirt off the front porch earlier. She made tuna sandwiches on wheat bread. She also packed some deviled eggs Mort kept in the refrigerator that would go uneaten and soon rot.
"I saved it." she had said. She'd always say that when she found something of Mort's that was old or going rotten. The eggs were still good enough to eat. So in a way she had saved it. Christine had also packed some white sparkling wine that she poured into a tall glass for two. After they ate they stayed out on the lake for about two hours just enjoying the view and sipping their wine. The water surrounded them and the trees surrounded the lake. Christine lay on Mort's lap as they listened only to the sound of water tapping against the boat.
For awhile they talked. At first it was too peaceful to talk and easier just to listen. Mort put his arms around her midrift rubbing the skin on her sides, her head resting on gently on his chest. She'd look up at him every once and awhile. Every time she did Mort was looking across the water to at the roof to a house nearby. It was close to Mort's house. It was just built behind his during the summer. No one lived in it yet or appeared to.
The house was bigger then his and the driveway to the house was before you turn down his driveway. It started out as a dirt trail, but now it was cemented with the mail box at the end of it. Mort now had to look at the numbers on the house mail box to make sure it was his. He figured sooner or later he'd get used to it. Sometimes he even thought of on purposely driving down the other driveway to see the house. If anyone was there he could say it was an accident. He'd probably come off to be a little creepy to his new neighbors at the same time he thought he had the right to say hello.
"More wine?" Christine asked Mort.
"No. I don't want to be rowing under the influence." Mort joked. Christine laughed her little girlish laugh as she always did when he made a joke.
Mort later rowed back to the dock and tied up the boat. They held hands as they walked back to the house. While walking up the driveway, holding each other close, they heard something from a far. It sounded of someone shouting and another person crying. Christine and Most stopped in their places on the driveway. The shouting they found was coming from the opposite side the fence. Mort's new neighbors had arrived.
"I thought you said no one lived there." Christine said.
Mort shrugged. "Maybe we should go say hello."
The shouting increased. It came clearer that the person doing the shouting was a man and the crying was from a woman. He was hollering at the women, but the sobbing women had the courage the yell back. It didn't take long for them to realize they were squabbling. Their feud could have been heard from a mile away. They wouldn't stop yelling at each other. They are pissed off and they wanted the world to know.
"I don't think now would be the best time." Christine replied.
"I guess your right." Mort agreed. They walked together to the front of the house. The yelling from the neighbors only escalated. As Mort and Christine walked up the steps to the porch their attention focused back to the fight. They could hear their arguing very clearly.
"Why are you even here Marta, shouldn't you be some bitch convention or something!" the man said angrily.
"Fuck you, Tom!" the women shouted.
"Right because you would fuck anyone expect me wouldn't you!" the man shouted back.
"Marta?" Mort muttered under his breath.
"What?" Christine asked.
"Nothing." he replied. Mort felt a slight feeling in his bladder. It increased as they stepped in front of the house. Christine walked inside the house first, Mort followed. Immediately Mort rushed toward the bathroom unbuckling his pants on the way.
"Mort!" Christine called. Mort quickly turned around. For moment she said nothing. His eyes felt like they were going to water or he was going to pee on himself. Little drops of sweat fell from his forehead.
"You want to go to the art gallery with me?" she asked.
"Sure." Mort quickly replied unaware of what he just committed himself to. Christine smiled letting Mort continued his way to the bathroom. He rushed inside closing the door behind him. He quickly unzipped his fly and leaned over the toilet with his hand against the wall for support and urinated. He let out a big sigh that was loud enough for all of Maine to hear.
"Mort? You ready?" she asked.
"Coming." Mort replied. He let the last of the fluid out of his system then lifted his body up from the wall to stand on his own. He zipped up his fly and flushed toilet. He quickly buckled his pants back up then walked out. Christine was waiting for him in front of the door with her purse over her arm.
"Ready?" she asked.
"As ready as I'm going to be." he replied.
Mort drove for forty-five minutes into town to the art museum where they were showing some new paintings. For Christine it was very exciting getting to go see all the works of art of her favorite painters. Mort walked with her side by side as they walked up the large cement steps. When they reached the glass door for the entrance Mort held it open for Christine to walk in like a boyfriend does for their girlfriends. She walked in first then Mort closed the door behind him.
The first thing he saw when he walked in was a huge quilt that the hung by black poles that were pulled into the wall on both ends. The quilt covered the entire two story wall completely. The walls were all a dull cloudy grey color but the quilt gave the massive room some color. The quilt looked like an old man with a red face holding some keys in his right hand. It must have had every color you could think of in the quilt. The artist seemed to add the colors for the Crayola Crayons into the quilt as well.
If you could take your eyes off the quilt you would see the security guards standing by waiting to check you and your carry on luggage. They walked over to the security metal detectors after Mort had to tug on Christine's arm a little to get her to move. There stood two security guards. The first one told Christine to walk through the metal detector and the other check her purse. Even the smallest purses have to be checked the sign read in front of the line to walk through the metal detector.
They also told her to remove any metal she may have on her body. The only thing she took off was a small charm bracelet she happened to be wearing. She slipped it into her purse so it wouldnt get lost then she walked through it without it making a sound. Next it was Mort's turn. He was asked to remove any metal objects from his body while Christine waiting eagerly for him to come through. Even though he did want to spend the whole day with Christine he couldn't help wishing that he gets kicked out of the place or somehow the iron in his blood is too high to go in.
To say the least that didn't happen, but there was suddenly a loud beeping noise. The security guard quickly ran over toward Mort. He sat his hands on a small hand held metal detector and ran it across Mort's body. The beeping nose increased when he ran across Mort's pockets. He ordered Mort to empty his pockets. Mort followed his orders.
He reached into his pocket as everyone around him waited to see what was inside. Along with the two security guards and Christine there were women behind Mort in line to get into the museum. They were elderly women. They each held a messenger bag across there shoulders. They also waited eagerly to get inside. Both of them had been watching Mort closely as he pulled his hand from his pocket revealing a pair of keys.
"Car keys." Mort said to the guard. The guard gave him a look that said you-better-not-do-that-again. From the look in his eye Mort didn't take that kindly. He quickly placed his car keys back into the his pocket and finally walked over to Christine. She let out a sigh or relief along with the same look that the security guard had gave him.
They spent the rest of the day walking around looking at the paintings. Most of them Christine would pause and look at his with her hand up to her chin looking as if she were puzzled about something. Every time Mort would look around he would see other people doing the same. He followed around Christine all day from room to room to pauses to pauses. Christine would explain the paintings to Mort when he would try to imitate the puzzled look, but even when she would interrupt the paintings not all of them were as clear.
Like one painting was a rectangle titled to the left on the wall in a bright lime green color. In the middle of the same room had what looked like an anchor that used to be a attached to a ship. At the end of the anchor was a thick rope left in a circled position next to it. Some were simple still life art of food or flowers on tables. Mort enjoyed the ones that didn't need interrupting.
The one he was quite fond of was the still life painting called Apples by Geoff Hale. The painting was of apples in a octagon shape bowl. Underneath it was a wrinkled cloth formed around the bowl. The painting was all in on color of turquoise with only a lonely red apple a out of the bowl. Mort found that somehow he could relate to the red apple rather then the other turquoise apples. For him he thought the painting as a metaphor of something different. Like the red apple stood out rather then blend in with the others.
He also spent a little time looking for any of Marta's painting that could possibly be there. He didn't find any not that he knew what her work looked like anyway. But the way she talked about her paintings they seemed to be the kind that should be put into a museum unlike most the paintings he saw. Perhaps she would have told him if she did publish a painting like she told him about her book. Still he didn't find any.
The last room they walked into was a art gallery of all Vincent Van Goth paintings. Christine immediately walked over to the painting she had been talking about showing Mort for the past few weeks. The painting she wanted to show Mort was Van Goth's painting of Starry Night. The painting was images of Van Goths reflect on his childhood in Holland and the values he held dear.
"This painting he did was all by his memory of a village under a starfilled sky, a veritable tapestry of stars, and a symbol or spiritual consolation." Christine whispered into Mort's ear. The village in the painting was hardly visible. The sky was what caught everyone's attention. How the circle patterns of the sky resembled the stars. After looking at the Starry Night they left the art museum to enjoy some find dining their favorite Italian restaurant nearby.
"That's what I love about Art; you can make it whatever you want it to be." Christine said as they talked over a candle lite dinner.
"Even though they can look ridiculous." Mort replied.
"Only to people who don't appreciate it." Christine said as she took a bite of her chicken she ordered.
"But you have to admit that some of those paintings were . . . queer."
Christine's mouth that was full of chicken, gave Mort a slight smile. She speeded up her chewing to reply. Her chicken soon dissolved inside his mouth letting her to swallow the rest.
"Were there any that wasn't so queer?" she asked.
"Yes of matter of fact there was." Mort answered drinking from his glass full of red wine.
"Really?" she asked sarcastically.
"Yes. The ones with the apples." Mort took a sip of his steaming hot soup.
"The Geoff Hale one?" she asked.
"Yea."
"I'm intrigued."
"Well it was a good painting. It was something simple that didn't require the puzzled look."
"The puzzled look?" she asked taking a second bite of the chicken.
"You know . . . the look when you get when you're looking at a painting." Mort said.
"What look?" she snapped.
"This one." Mort put his hand up to his chin and looked toward to his left looking as if he were thinking of something interested. He took another long drink of his wine.
"I do not look like that." Christine protested.
"Of course not . . . you do it much better. You're a professional puzzler."
"You're in this world to mock everybody aren't you, Mort?" she said as she began to cut the rest of her chicken with her knife.
"Only those who appreciate it." He took one last sip of his wine.
"More wine?" He asked Christine who kindly refused his offer. They finished up their meals then headed back to Mort's house. By the time they were close to the house it was pitch black outside without the car's headlights. Mort drove down the road to his driveway. From the lights off the car he saw a mailbox, but not his house address written on it. So he drove slowly by the mailbox that belonged to his next door neighbors that he never saw.
Passing the other driveway seemed to be quite eerie in the night. The trees made whistling sounds when the wind blew hard enough. The sound was loud enough to hear over the car engine. On the ground the driveway was covered in leaves that also rattled when the wind blew making a ghostly sound that could make you jump in your seat. If you looked heard enough you could see blackness of the house giving if a spooky feeling as they passed by. Mort turned down his driveway in the dark slowly. The lights reflected onto the house. Once Mort got close enough he parked the car on the side of the house. He turned off the engine and they both went inside.
Later that evening they had settled in front of the fire cuddling by it's heat. Enjoying the amorous atmosphere they both leaned toward each others lips. The longer they held each other in their arms the more desirous they became. Together they both felt that intense feeling for one another. Their lips finally touched giving them both the feeling of pleasure and satisfaction.
"Bedroom?" Christine asked. Mort nodded a yes and smiled.
Again they kissed of serenity that they both wanted to have each other right now. Mort stood up first then held his hand out for Christine to take. They both stopped to look at one another. Mort lifted his hand to her face and gently rubbed the fur up and down her cheek. She serenely closed her eyes letting his hand comfort her. She her lips began to embrace the tips if his fingers ever so slowly starting with his thumb.
Mort found himself closing his eyes giving in to her soft moist touch. One by one her lips touched his middle finger. Then his ring finger. And finally his pinkie. At the same time their eyes opened and met. Christine began kissing his fingers again from his pinkie to his thumb. She moved more quickly then before. Neither of them looked away. As her lips lay upon his thumb Mort reached for the back of her neck. He gently pulled her to him. After another affectionate embrace followed by a vehement kiss they walked to the stairs holding each other closely.
They made their way upstairs kissing vigorously. The bedroom door blasted open as they came walking though it. They continued to kiss standing in front of the bed. The kissing slowed down and there foreheads came together. Their lips parted. As they looked at each other they only had enough energy to smile. Christine's hands on Mort's shoulders pressed against him making his body back away. She slowly pushed him to the bed where he took a seat. She looked down at him with a smile. He looked up at her with longing eyes. No words were said, but their hearts each were libidos for each other. Her smile soon disappeared from her face. Once again their eyes met and locked.
She backed up a few feet. She came to a stop and slowly began to unbutton her blouse. The top of her blouse came undone revealing a black laced bra. Mort watched her with such a lustful appetite for her he began to feel his erection coming on. Her hair fell over her face as she unbuttoned the last of her blouse. She pulled it back over her shoulders showing her slender stomach then tossed it to the side.
She glanced back up at Mort who was now looking at her with his mouth half opened. As she came slowly toward him Mort leaned against the bed with his hands spread behind him to keep his balance the palms of her hands touched his shoulders. Her eyes glimpsed down at his crotch as she moved she hands slowly to the end of his shirt. She lifted his shirt up from his body then tossed it aside. Mort took her by the waist pulling her gently over top of him. His hands brushed against her smooth back as her hands held tightly on his arms. Their lips pressed against each others lips in such as way their passion for each other could be felt.
The room was silent except for their breathing. Between them it was the only thing they could hear. Mort had rolled over top of Christine as they lay at an angle on the bed. Within a few minuets Christine could not hear nor only paid attention to. There was a noise that wasn't theirs coming from a far. It was a kind of moaning as if they were having an orgasm. It sounded good for the other person, but it was ruining Christine's enthusiasm for their night of intimacy
"Mort." she whispered. "Do you hear that?" Mort who was kissing her neck who hadn't been paying much attention to anything else besides how to get his crock out of his pants stopped. He lifted his lips from her neck that he just began kissing and looked up at her. She was listening to the sound she had heard to come back again. The room fell silent.
"Hear what?" Mort asked
"Listen." she replied. They listened for the sound. Neither of them heard a thing. Christine began to think she was just hearing things. The noise might have been her imagination all along. She gave Mort a look that allowed him to continue. He gently kissed neck again. His hands began to make their way toward her breasts. Just then as she least expected the moaning started up again only louder. This time they both heard it.
"Did you hear that?" Christine asked. Mort stopped in his place with his hands below her chest.
"Yea I did." Mort said. They exchanged a puzzled look. It was only a few hours ago these people couldn't hate each other more. Mort lifted his weight from Christine onto his own feet. He walked over to the window. It was open. He looked through it knowing it only overlooked the top of the house (not that he expected to see anything anyway) next door. The large dark house was gloomy and gave you a feel of it being haunted during the night. At any time Mort could feel the overwhelming discomfort for the house.
"Sounds like our new neighbors made up." Mort said with his eye still fixed upon the house. Suddenly his words seemed to have a lasting effect on him. Marta was married. The women he had been spending his nights with all along was a lie. He could never be with her and she could never be with him. Yet that didn't stop him from acting on his feelings for her. Now the guilt he felt for cheating on Christine was tripled that he not only cheated on her with a beautiful women, but a married women.
Of course he didn't know she was married. How does someone neglect to tell someone that their married? She didn't just forget. She seemed to be pretty happy with her husband. So was the fight they had earlier about him? Maybe her husband found out that Marta went out to dinner with him the other night. Still the situation seemed pretty suspicious for them to have made up this soon. Could it possibly some weird sex game they played to keep the marriage alive? Suddenly Mort felt angered by the idea that she used him.
Mort looked over back over at Christine who was waiting for him anxiously on the bed. Why did he cheat when all he had was right here? He could move on now that he knew he would never cheat again. But that didn't stop the guilt from going away.
"I have to tell you something." Mort said shutting the window.
"Can't it wait?" Christine asked getting off the bed and walking towards the window. Mort stood there and looking back at the house. Should he tell her? It would however change their relationship forever. And for what? Something he would forever regret that probably wasn't even worth telling Christine for. Yet you're supposed to be honest in a relationship. On the other hand this could be carried with him in their relationship forever if he didn't say something. This memory of guilt following him around everywhere he went. Whether he liked to or not he had to tell her.
Christine came from behind him and wrapped her arms around him. He could feel the warmth of her body and he touch of her lips on his back. She caressed his neck with her lips. Mort could feel her teeth on his ear. She knew that it made him go weak in the knees. It was then he knew it could wait.
The next morning Christine awoke from the ringing of a phone. Her cell phone. The phone tucked away in the old black purse she carried around everywhere she went. She reached into the purse that had been on the nightstand during the night. Her body half way out of bed she held the phone up to her ear and answered it. "Hello." she said.
Meanwhile Mort had also been awoken up by the cell phone. He awoke on his back from her dream he had just had. A dream in which he only remembered the few seconds he saw of before his eyes opened. In those few seconds it started off with him saying goodbye to Christine. He was holding her hand so she would go without a kiss. They kissed each other goodbye on the cheek. In the dream he didn't want her to leave. All he wanted was for her to stay with him in the warm sunlight of the early morning laying in bed all day long. It wasn't something he'd normally ask for.
Then Christine of course said she needed to go to work. This angered him. It was as if she wanted to go to work rather than being with him. Mort was guilty of feeling this way in real life but the dream greatly increased that feeling. A lonely unwanted feeling like when you feel when you know your being used or left out of something because no one wants you. The same thing could be said of a kid who was jealous of their new baby sister or brother. Their parents raving over the new baby they neglect their other child. Mort was that neglected child.
In the dream it angered him even more. He become furious with her. His loose grip on her hand tightened. The next he knew she was outside and free from his grasp. She began to cry out in pain. She held her stomach where a large amount of blood was gushing out onto the porch. Soon her cries stopped. Her face became pale. Blood exuded down her legs, her skirt drenched in blood, and then Mort came to realize she was being stabbed repeatedly in the stomach.
Her cries returned. This time it was louder. Mort came to realize that the cries were not coming from Christine, but somewhere else. From someone else. Mort knew she was in agony but he was impotent to helping her. This made cold tears fall from his eyes. They slowly walked upon his face and down to his cheeks. Christine was dieing. The screams had gotten louder. She fell to the floor in deep agony she rolled onto her back. Blood immediately came oozing out from the sides of her mouth but she was not the only one in agony but Mort was too for he was now holding the bloody knife in his hand. As soon as he caught a glimpse of the blood surrounding him he woke up in a cold sweat.
A/N: I hope you're enjoying the story so far. And I hope you're thinking it's way different from any fanfiction you've ever read. If you have any questions leave a review and I'll be sure to answer it. And personal comments are fine, even if you think it sucks share it with me.