Time passed and she was careful. She was so careful.
Thus far it seemed Marilyn was not pregnant as the doctor had so hoped. Her flat stomach remained just that and never rounded out to the tight drum of a tummy she'd spotted on Lana. She remained vigilant, patient.
She behaved herself. She listened obediently. Soon she was out of the basement again and upstairs where she could cook dinner and take showers and see the sky.
She waited.
Her moment finally came one late fall evening when they were enjoying an after-supper drink and the latest episode of "The Addams Family". Why it was her moment was unapparent; Marilyn simply caught a glance of Oliver's sly wolf smile as he laughed at a joke and that was it.
She sipped at her martini delicately, choosing to wait for the commercial break before striking.
"Oliver?" she said softly, and he met her gaze.
"Mmm?" He raised his thick eyebrows above the black rims of his eyeglasses.
"May I smoke?" The sleek silver case sat between them on the coffee table. She looked at it briefly, then back to him as if to make her point clear.
"Of course," he said, fetching it for her. Thredson clicked the case open and removed one long white joint from the replenished supply.
She opened her mouth flirtatiously. He smiled at her, always encouraged by seduction, and placed the marijuana cigarette between her lips. Marilyn leaned forward as the doctor clicked a flame to life on his elegant lighter and inhaled deeply.
The rush flowed through her immediately and she struggled to stay in control; this was part of it, it was necessary, but oh god was it hard to remain focused, to not give in to the drug's promise of pleasure and relief.
Marilyn exhaled, a cloud of slow thick smoke rising into the air. Thredson sat silently beside her on the sofa, his eyes locked on her. Not for the first time she recognized the look of intent curiosity on his face.
But this time was different.
She took another measured breath of the lit joint and tilted her head back, holding in the smoke, savoring it. When she finally blew out it took several long seconds to empty her lungs of the potent haze.
He watched, fascinated.
"Oliver?" she said at last. Marilyn narrowed her eyes, tipped her head towards his, and smiled. "Would you like to try some?"
The doctor looked alarmed; he shook his head once briskly, his brow furrowing into a frown.
"No, I couldn't. It would be… unprofessional." His eyes flicked to the joint in her fingers.
She began to crawl towards him like a cat, slinky and sensual, closing the gap between them on the couch.
"Not even one time?" Marilyn asked as her breasts pushed against his arm through the cotton nightgown she hated. "What could one time hurt?"
"I could lose my job, Marilyn," he said testily, but the interest was still there, as visible as the telltale tenting of his pressed work pants.
"As if your other extracurricular activities don't pose the same threat?" she teased. Oliver stiffened at her words yet she continued to climb coyly into his lap.
When he didn't respond Marilyn pursed her lips into a sullen pout.
"Baby, I know you'd like it." She slipped an arm around his neck and forced him to look at her. "Just one little hit. No one has to know."
Thredson remained silent until she began to nibble at the lobe of his ear, urging a low groan from him.
"I think it could bring us even closer," she whispered, and he pulled back to study her face for a few long terrible moments, the type of moments where she feared he could see right through her, down to the person she feared she really was, a person like him.
"How do I do it?" the doctor asked at last, timidly.
"I'll help you, baby," Marilyn murmured.
She lit the joint again and took in yet another deep breath, hoping that this hit wouldn't be the one that sent her over the edge, and motioned for him to lean towards her.
When he obeyed she took his face gently in the palm of one hand and placed her lips close to his until they were just barely touching. Marilyn opened her mouth and instinctively Oliver did the same; she exhaled slowly, carefully, being sure not to overwhelm him the first time.
He took the cue and inhaled, but he could only hold the smoke for a few seconds. The doctor began coughing raucously and she rubbed her palm in soothing circles along his suited back.
Oliver caught his breath, then looked to her, eyes ablaze as the new sensations washed through him.
"Another," he said in a low, throaty voice, but she put a palm on his chest and set the joint into the ashtray.
"Not yet, baby, you need to take it slow." Marilyn guided him back to a leaning position, sinking them both into the plush of the couch cushions. She scanned his face and licked her lips.
"How do you feel?" she asked, the very same question he'd asked her who knew how many days ago.
"Incredible," he breathed, his hands flexing and unflexing against the smooth material of his dress pants. Marilyn ran her fingers along the curve of his jaw.
She knew just how it felt, especially the first time. It was like the aftershock of an orgasm seeping from the top of your head all the way to your toes, a pleasant fog of simple euphoria clearing all the muck and misery from your brain. You felt powerful. You felt present. You felt special.
"It feels good, doesn't it?" she asked softly, her other hand finding its way to the growing erection in his lap. She didn't grip it, not at first; instead, she brushed her fingertips lightly along the seam of his fly, just barely teasing the surface.
He wasn't ready for the conflict of sexual pleasure with the drug-induced one, and she knew it. His hips bucked instantly into her touch.
"God," Oliver hissed, trying to contain himself, but Marilyn could see he was already gone, his eyes rolling in ecstasy behind their lids.
"You see what you do to me?" she whispered huskily in his ear, growing bolder in her touch. She rolled his throbbing length in her palm with long, slow strokes. "This is how you make me feel."
"Oh god," he repeated, breathless.
"Make love to me, Oliver," she said urgently, and his eyes made their way to hers. He was stunted in his reaction time, slow and sluggish, but she knew he was far from stupid. It was like petting a vicious tiger that had been shot with tranquilizers. There were still the teeth to consider.
"More," the doctor insisted. Marilyn pretended to consider this as though she were concerned.
"It's your first time."
"More," Oliver growled, one strong hand coming up to gently grip her throat. She closed her eyes and made a little purring noise, arching her body towards his, then reached for the ashtray. The pressure of his fingertips on her neck ignited a blazing fire between her legs she tried desperately to ignore. It was a distraction she couldn't afford.
"All right. But only one," she said, her tone that of a cautious mother. With a flick of the silver lighter she relit her joint, sucked deep, and leaned towards him again. His mouth popped open obediently; Marilyn exhaled in one long slow breath, giving him every last bit of the sweet skunky smoke.
He held it in longer this time. She saw his brows knit with concentration before he breathed the pot out in one giant puff.
"Jesus," he gasped. Oliver pawed for her shoulder to ground himself, his eyes darting uselessly around the living room. She knew the marijuana had taken hold; he was a lightweight, and as much as he'd coughed, the drug was sure to go straight to his brain.
"Make love to me," Marilyn repeated, soft and insistent. It took a moment for him to put the pieces together – first her face, then her hand, then the warm place between her legs that was currently bumping against his knee.
He was hers to mold. She climbed atop him and straddled his hips, smiling, ready. Her fingers worked at the zipper of his pants.
With a low buzzing sound his work slacks came undone and his erection bulged to the surface, begging for her touch. The doctor jerked his hips towards her nimble hands. He was baring his teeth in a humorless predatory grin but she wasn't sure he was aware of it.
She opened the slit of his plain boxer shorts with a quick spread of two fingers, his desperate arousal popping out at once. Marilyn began to caress the hot skin of his member with the silky curves of her palm, taking her time, moving her hand in such a way that she knew he felt every stroke like a lightning bolt through his body.
He whimpered weakly, lost in sensation, and for a moment she felt sorry for him.
Then she sought his parts with hers; the hot wet center of her aching sex closed around Oliver's erection, enveloping him in unexpected warmth.
"Fuck, Marilyn," Oliver moaned, the antics of the Addams Family lost in the sounds of their bodies moving together, a slick strange pumping noise.
"Oh baby," she purred, matching the desperate thrust of his hips.
Marilyn was dismayed to find she couldn't ignore the sinful sensations as Oliver made sweet stoned love to her. The distracting throb of the aching bud between her legs was constant, demanding.
She wanted to ride him to orgasm but she pulled back, her brow creasing, her hips slowing to a halt over his rock hard arousal.
"Don't stop," Oliver begged, his hands flying up to move her lower half in a solid steady rhythm over him.
Marilyn resisted the movement and simply kept him trapped in the hot space between her thighs.
"Tell me you love me," she said, her eyes locked on the doctor's strained, handsome face.
"Oh, I love you," Oliver stammered, yanking roughly on her hips, but Marilyn held fast; he was given no pleasure, no friction to push him over the edge. She began loosening the tie at his throat.
"Again," she demanded.
"I love you," he all but begged, running his palms down her thighs, pleading with her wordlessly for relief. "God, Marilyn, you know that. You know I love you."
Marilyn could feel him in her deepest core, hot and throbbing and so hard, and she knew this was the time. It was time to give Oliver the simple release he wanted and to use that release against him.
She started her hips into a quick, short jerk, stimulating his aching erection; it was a move she used often but never failed to drive the doctor over the edge. The relief in his eyes was palpable and as he closed them, she pulled the undone tie from his starched white collar.
Recognizing the glow of an approaching orgasm overtaking his beautiful face, Marilyn ran her fingers through the doctor's thick dark hair. She knew there was little time left and began drawing her nails delicately over the sensitive skin of his scalp.
Oliver whined like a lost puppy and came helplessly into her wet sex, twitching and convulsing, grasping her arms like a man drowning.
She tried to pretend she was fine but one of his final thrusts was too much. She came almost as soon as he did; a small noise escaped her lips, the sound of a quiet little mouse or a baby bird.
Even as she came, the sweet sensations of orgasm rolling through her very core, Marilyn did what she'd prepared herself to do and stretched the necktie tight between her fists. Oliver's eyes were closed. He was still coming, or at least coming down, and he was miles away.
She locked her legs around his hips and braced herself. She put her hands behind his neck, pulling the tie slowly towards her like a slingshot.
She twisted the thin black necktie, now a garrote, in one quick savage motion. It closed around his throat like a vise.
His eyes popped open at once. Thredson made a strangled sound of protest and began to struggle, but she was on top of him, her sexual embrace holding him in place.
Marilyn gritted her teeth and pulled tighter, willing herself not to give up, telling herself this was her last and only chance.
He clawed at the material around his neck and when he could get no leverage he reached for her neck, one strong hand closing around it like nothing. She yelped and tried to keep her hold on the tie but it was no use, he was simply so much stronger than she was.
There was a brief moment where their eyes locked. The realization of what she was doing to him flashed over his expression and it was enough to make Marilyn relax her stranglehold.
Before she knew it she was on her back on the ground; he'd narrowly missed the coffee table and she could feel the scratchy material of the carpet on her skin. Oliver had managed to fully reverse the move, putting her beneath him, but he was still miraculously hard and buried between her legs.
The grip around her throat loosened a little once she stopped struggling. The doctor kept her pinned in place as he coughed and fought for breath.
Marilyn just laid there, numb, prepared for him to finally kill her. They'd both known it would happen, it was just a matter of when.
And then the most extraordinary thing happened.
Oliver smiled.
It was not the smile of a man about to end her life. It was a smile of pride, of love.
"You're ready," he said when he'd finally caught his breath. His eyes shone with emotion and once again she could see the gleam of insanity behind them. "Jesus, I didn't think you'd ever get there. And yet, here you are."
Marilyn stared up at him, unmoving, unwilling to believe she could still be alive.
"I knew you wouldn't disappoint me," Oliver murmured, and to her shock he began rocking his hips against hers, his erection fading but still surprisingly hard. She moaned, her mind reeling, trying to catch up with what had happened in the last few short moments.
When he started to grow too soft from his recent orgasm, the doctor withdrew and replaced his member with two strong pumping fingers. Marilyn nearly cried out from the new sensation, one she simply wasn't ready for, oh god what had happened, what had gone so wrong, how could this really be her life?
His thumb gently circling her swollen clitoris, his fingers thrusting into her soft wet center, Oliver bent his head towards her chest and with his free hand pushed the cotton nightgown up to her neck.
"You can't kill me, Marilyn," he whispered, each breath a hot puff against her skin, "because you don't want to. And do you know why you don't want to?"
Before she could answer he inserted a third finger and by then she was just whimpering, utterly overcome, helpless in his hands at last.
"Because you're mine," the doctor growled, lowering his mouth to her breast and sucking hard. It was borderline painful, but it was sweet suffering; Marilyn felt the orgasm uncurling like slow fire in her loins and even then she wasn't ready for the pleasure that rocked her body wave after wave.
She came but he was not done.
He was not gentle.
And he was not through with her for a very, very long time.