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"Welcome to Noxford!" Julia shouted as her arms stretched out in a welcoming offer for a hug to the family streaming out of the arriving cars. Her hair was coiled tight against her head in curlers while the skin of her face was carefully painted with foundation and the first level of make-up application in preparation for the day.

"I can't believe it! My little doodle bug is getting married!" A pair of wrinkled hands grabbed either side of Julia's petite frame and dragged her into a tight embrace that forced the air from her lungs. The faint scent of baby powder and classic Chanel #5 enveloped the young woman alongside the elder's arms.

"And so young! I can't believe you're marrying your high school sweetheart!" Another voice broke through the jumble of chatter while manicured hands peeled the elderly woman away to press into the young bride.

"Grandma Mary! Cousin Elodie! It's so good to see you both! No squabbling, please!" Julia smiled at both the family members, though in the back of her mind she felt an inkling of concern for trouble the two could cause if they got into another argument over which generation of Rutherford family was better, old Grandma Mary's or young cousin Elodie's. The two, while alike in personality, had caused scenes at past family get togethers, especially when the topic of marriage arouse as Elodie, while successful, beautiful, and physically ripe, was no where near getting engaged and now her younger relative Julia was beating her to it!

"Oh don't you worry yourself on the big day! I would never squabble with Elodie!" The aged woman looked shocked at the suggestion and looped a thin, brittle arm through Julia's as she began to lead her back into the privacy of one of the large farmhouse's bedroom to continue the application of her makeup. "We might argue, but we'll save that for after the I-dos."

Julia tried to look stern and threatening to sway the women to obey her request to get along, however at the sight of both the family members, that she saw so rarely as they lived out of town and she never left the small community of Noxford, smiling at her so cheerfully and sharing the joy she too felt on her "big day" she couldn't keep up the facade.

Hurriedly, the women ushered Julia back to the upper bedroom, tucked away in the corner of the large family farmhouse, where Julia herself had grown up, sleeping in the small, twin sized bed a few feet from where the sat her down in front of a full-length mirror, tied an smock over her front, and set to work preparing her hair and face. With careful, yet speedy precision, hands often times shaky with age steadied and applied the careful strokes of eyeliner that swept out in a cat eye, blended the varying shades of pink blush to match her skin tone, and smooth the perfect amount of classic rouge lipstick over soft, supple lips ready to seal the marriage vows with a kiss. While Mary worked on her face, Elodie tamed the curled locks of her hair into a soft bun with ringlets lining the bride's face, highlighting her cheekbones and accenting the natural tones of her makeup.

When at last, the hairspray had settled and the makeup brushes went still, both women stepped back to admire their handiwork. Two sets of expectant eyes turned onto Julia's features, taking in the wideness of her soft, blue eyes and the refined set of her elegant cheekbones. Her light blonde hair is piled atop her head, curled into a basket of the golden locks. At the sight of her, the bridesmaids scattered throughout the connected rooms and bathroom all converged around her, cooing their compliments.

"You look beautiful!"

"Enchanting!"

"He'll fall in love all over again, dahling!"

Julia blushed at the compliments. The soft glow of an eager bride one of a light rosy shade that spread from the hollow of her cheek and traced up to her cheekbone along the line of the artificial blush already applied to the skin.

"Oh yes! You're a blushing bride, sweetie." Elodie purred to her younger cousin while she hurried the gathered bridesmaids out into the hallway, checking each to ensure their deep blue, satin dresses were intact, their makeup was smudge free, and their hair stayed hairsprayed still. With the bridesmaids deposited out into the hall, out of sight and out of the way, Elodie focused her attention on young Julia.

"Okay. This is the final stretch before the aisle. Do you have something borrowed and something blue?" Elodie's face grew solemn at the age-old question.

Though before Julia could respond, Mary's wrinkled fingers grazed Elodie's shoulder and drew her attention away. "I have just the thing for both those." She interjected while she scooted around Elodie, stepped behind Julia, and drew a necklace up to the young woman's throat. The strand was gleaming, white pearls with the faint dimmer of age, weaved between the pearls was a thin, indigo ribbon that held a small circular pendant at the base of Julia's throat. Scripted into the metal read the phrase, "Marriage denies all laws of the world through the power of love."

At the sight of the present, a gasp of appreciation left Julia while both blue eyes went wide. "Oh grandma! It's beautiful! This was yours?"

The elderly woman nodded with a nostalgic look, "It was a present from your grandfather when we were wed. He worked overtime at the mill for three months to afford it in conjunction with the rest of the wedding. He said it was a reminder that our marriage wouldn't be limited by anything: age, money, anything." Her voice dropped lower, out of Elodie's range of hearing to share a message with the bride alone. "Since he's passed, however, I've seen it more as a sign that he's still with me no matter the limitations on such a thing." A smile curled the woman's lips and her eyes had drifted to a far away place, though Julia's arms curling around her waist drew her back.

"Thank you, grandma. It's an honor to wear it."

For a moment, grandmother and granddaughter shared a silent moment in memory of the man they both knew and loved; Neil had been a devoted husband to Mary from the time they had been married at age 18 and as soon as Julia was born years later he was a tireless grandfather, never waning in his attention or affection for the young girl. As the moment passed through, both females looked up to a look of impatience plastered over Elodie's features. Her hand rested on a cocked hip that leaned against the frame of the door. "You ready, little cuz? They guests and arriving. It'll be time to walk the walk and talk the talk pretty soon."

Julia stared up at her cousin, both blue eyes trained onto the older woman while she drew in a long, deep breath. "I think...I think I am ready." She gave a small bob of her head before she stepped forward to follow Elodie out into the hall where the bridesmaids were already standing in an ordered line ready, at Elodie's command, to make their way towards the doors that led into the main hall where the guests were seated in several lines, each white chair decorated with a silk, blue bow that matched the dresses of the bridesmaids. When the heavy door at the edge of the main hall swung open, all eyes darted to the start of the white carpet rolled out to form a walkway, already sprinkled with different colored rose petals, dyed to form an array of hues that range from blue to purple, with varying shades of red mixed in. Past the rows of guests, a tall, clean-cut young man, barely past being dubbed a teenager, waited. His tuxedo, while crisp and clean, was obviously passed down from an older family member as it was loose on shoulders and just slightly too long towards the ground, drooping over the tops of his loafers. Nonetheless, the sight of him, with a pale blue rose pinned into his pocket, set Julia's heart a flutter within her chest. After the talk with her grandmother and the reflection on the marriage the older woman had with her grandfather, Julia felt inspired in her own relationship, ready for a marriage no matter how young she was and ready to experience her life with the man she'd loved since her ninth year in school.

With the first note of the wedding march, Julia's spine straightened up and her eyes bored forward, obvlious to the graceful marches of her bridesmaid, and met to those of her fiance. The deep gray of his gaze held hers like a silent embrace as it had for the past four years from across the cafeteria, classrooms, and the space between the neighboring workplaces of their earliest employments at the mall. They'd grown accustomed to exchanging their emotions silently, though the entire town knew of and supported their romance, swept up with the appeal of high school sweethearts who truly stay together.

Appearing at her side, her father broke the concentrated state she held with her future- husband, both eyes darted to his face. The small wrinkles at the corner of his eyes crinkled when a smile broke over his face. "My dear, you look so beautiful..."

She couldn't help but smile at his words, though the arrival of the bridesmaids and groomsmen to their final destination left her no time to respond to him before they were to make their way down the aisle, with slow steady steps, while all around eyes from both sides of the family watched. With her father's warm, gentle grip on her elbow and the welcoming smile of Mark at the end of the aisle, Julia was overcome with the emotion of it. Both eyes welled with wetness before she gave her father's fingers a small squeeze, voice low when she whispered, "I love you, Daddy."

While their feet met the end of the rolled out carpet, his grip loosened and Julia's father stepped back. "And I you, my dear," He murmured to her. Then moved his eyes to where Mark had inched forward to hold out his hand for Julia's, "Take care of my girl, Mark. Nothing good comes of doing a sweet girl wrong..."

The groom nodded briskly and drew closer to the young bride, "Sir, taking care of Julia is all I've dreamed of since I went through puberty." His smile was smooth and voice genuine.

"Son, then it's time to marry her."

Mark smiled at Julia and the glowing bride returned the sweet expression while hand-in-hand they moved from where Julia's father stood and moved to the awaiting priest. The priest spoke briefly, but passionately about the couple. He shared stories from when neither had teeth, the ability to walk or talk, and control over their bladders. Anecdotes brought the gathered family members to laugh or cry softly, all with tissues wadded within their palms to dab at the happy leakage from their eyes. When they reached the vows, the couple had inched closer together. Their hands were wound together and both gazes locked onto each other, consumed within the microcosm a small town and an early love affair had created between only the two of themselves. At the prodding from the priest, Mark's voice warbled out into the room. He was nervous and clumsy with the wording, but overall an innocent, schoolboy quality of sweet affection rang through his tone and brought soft coos from the bridesmaids.

"Julia, when I met you I was barely walking, but I didn't realize how much you meant to me till I was fourteen. Most girls were still more lipgloss at that point than substance, and honestly, most of us boys didn't see the point yet. But you, you were an exception. I spent every extra moment with you when we were young and suddenly all those moments came back to me all the time and I couldn't think about anyone else, none of the other girls appealed to me, not even the one's whose breasts grew in first. For me, even at fourteen, it was always you. It will always be you. You will always be my always."

Following Mark's words, Julia swiped her hand over her cheeks to remove the gathering tears and tightened the grip she had on her fiance's hands. "When I was little, living on the farm, I always worried that'd I would be stuck with the man that lived just up the street and I would grow up disappointed with the tough luck of living with such limited bachelors. I realize now that even though I *am* with the man that lived just up the street, I'll never be stuck with you and that there's no where else I would rather be. No one knows more of me than you do and I..." A warble in her voice broke the speech and Julia thought of her grandmother. "I want to have a marriage with you that rivals my grandmother's; that's rich, pure, strong, and that knows no bonds of the world."

From the gathered family, joyful sobs filled the room while the priest spoke the famous words of all weddings and the couple came together with the kiss that sealed their vows and became the first of many within the marriage of Mark Coblin and Julia Rutherford.

Their second kiss as a married couple came as guests streamed towards the backyard of the farmhouse out of patio doors, held wide open. It was shorter, a soft peck while they basked in the warmth of suddenly being a part of a solidified marriage, a solid and traditional couple. In the hurry towards their reception, a longer kiss wasn't possible.

The third, fourth, and fifth kisses came with the rings from glasses being tapped with knives and forks while dinner guests milled in groups: sipping champagne, nibbling on chicken, and sweeping the last remains of their alfredo sauce onto their spoons. Cheers swelled around them with each liplock and blushes bled over their cheeks. Nonetheless, their blushes were proud, happy to be embarrassed for the sake of celebration.

The sixth kiss led to more. While holding onto each other, mixed within other tiring partiers who clung to the last few songs the DJ would share with them, Mark leaned down close to Julia and drew her veil over them, like a cloak of privacy despite the groups of people around. His lips, stained with the taste of champagne and frosting from the treats of the night, pressed faintly into hers. A soft, I-Love-You kiss, but after a short moment, the kiss intensified. The breathing that would lazily puff out from their noses instead burst out in a pant through the limited airway of their nostrils and their lips broke apart with a small connection of salvia remaining. It was a kiss that promised more. More which came when the guests crept off to their cars, stuffed with the last corners of frosting, cheekily-named themed drinks, and rose-shaped mints. When the last second-cousin-once-removed's-girlfriend had wandered out on unsteady feet towards and illegal driving situation, Mark swept Julia into his arms and swiftly moved her towards the bedroom reserved for them on their wedding night in the family home, abandoned for their special night. The night that would give Mark what he had waited for since Julia slipped on her promise ring in the ninth grade.

At the top of the stairs, held bridal style in her husband's arms, Julia's most seductive move was to kiss over the hollow of his throat and follow the curve up his jawline with the soft, dancing kisses but she was mild, vanilla in her seduction. Her lingerie, though special for the night, was only a pale lavender, with barely a push up bra to enhance her average bust when her dress was peeled off. Draped over the bed, the girl stared up at her husband, fresh out of high school, with the light of built-up lust burning in his eyes and basked in his excitement, his anticipation for her was the greatest of silent compliments. He didn't speak a word, but she knew that he was excited by her, thrilled by the prospects she offered and such a feeling was exhilarating.

With formal clothing left draped over the storage chest at the end of the bed, the couple came together in the large, canopy bed. The seventh, eighth, and ninth kisses came and melded into the tenth, eleventh, and so on till they progressed into an uncountable level of shared liplocks. Their bodies were familiar with the desires of the other, but for the first time, the final layer of her panties and his boxers, respectively, were peeled back. The scent of her desire, unfiltered without the last layer filled the room like a fog, pungent, earthy and tempting to the eager, warm-blooded male. As soon as his boxers joined the garments scattered over the bedspread, his shaft sprung to full height, bobbing slightly with inexperienced motions till they were situated together, his tips parting the lower lips of her sex while another kiss was added to their marriage and lasted till they reached another first of their marriage and fell asleep-- clutching to each other, nude, worn-out, and married.

Over the course of their honeymoon, spent only an hour away in a rural resort, the couple re-enacted the events of their wedding night, still lost in the thrill of experiencing it for the first time, begging for it from the other, and constantly desperate to fill in the faintest of holes in any memory of the fornication. Neither realized that the honeymoon's desperation and lust for one another would wear off once the short vacation ended and the stress of everyday life intervened into the stress of sexual tension. However, upon returning to the small town of Noxford and realizing the struggles that lay ahead of them, the thrill of sex during every waking moment faded, as it does, and they were faced with the realization of reality. A reality that grew increasing more complicated when Mark began his job search.

While most men in Noxford did manage to find employment in the bountiful fishing trade, the bustling life of the lumber mill, or the agricultural crawl. The few office companies that appealed to Mark's interests in economics were limited, with no positions open for him as their life together began. For Julia, finding work in a local firm was rather easy considering her desire to work in the hospitality branch, supporting or comforting other people. Most nights following the honeymoon, living together in the bare space of a rented apartment, the two were foregoing sex for discussion on the topic.

"I don't know what I'm going to do here, Jules. There's no potential for me in this town. The college barely offers any economics and what they do have is so low in the college ranking it didn't make the top 1,000 economic programs. I'm not going to have a solid base to work on, let alone find said work at all!"

A frown creased the young woman's brow and she fidgeted with the ring around her finger. "I know. I know all that. I want you to be happy, successful..." The woman thought back to her grandmother for a moment, and the devotion her grandparents had for each other, and then she gave a serious nod. "I'll move. I'll go with you to the city. You can go to college there and get a job in a bigger firm."

Mark smiled briefly and returned her nod. In the celebration of another problem solved, they returned to the reckless rutting of a freshly married couple. Julia eagerly presented herself and Mark did his part, though nothing dirty left Julia's lips to urge him on, lips didn't leave trails of saliva down his chest, nor did screams of passion didn't fill the bedroom. The sex, the only sex they had ever known, was that of a sheltered, conservative elderly couple, acting out the penetration with none of the kinky flairs of wilder folk.

And so, within the week the newlyweds had packed up their small apartment, bid adieu to their rooted families of Noxford, and set off for the bustling metropolis of Newberry only 40 miles away. Despite its proximity, Newberry was a different world in comparison to the small, homey village of Noxford, built on laborious jobs that required physical labor. Newberry was built on large corporation settled in its borders and the prostitution business, largely ignored by local officials, that made that town a frequent favorite of married businessmen from the entire nation. Centered around a speckling of skyscrapers and extended office buildings, Newberry extended outwards with large residential areas mainly built from apartment complexes with a dash of authentic neighborhoods. One of such apartment complexes is where Mark and Julia settle.

"It's very different here..." Julia's eyes were wide while she examined the view from out of the ground floor window of their apartment, freshly leased from a plump landlord with double chins and greasy, slicked back hair. While she walked along the length of the window, which wasn't truly much of a walk, Julia's fingers grazed the stained wood of the sill while her mind drifted back to the smooth, rich wood of their hometown-- always purchased locally from the mill and built by a local carver, fitted perfectly to every window, and smooth as melting chocolate on the tongue. The sill her hand slid over now was rough, as though rubbed over with a piece of sandpaper to remove a spill from the last tenant, and screamed warningly of splinters.

"That's why we moved her, dear. If it was the same, I wouldn't be getting any worthwhile schooling or a job. That whole point is different." His back was turned from her, oblivious to her inner thoughts while he unloaded a cardboard box of office supplies that were being lovingly placed onto the wood of his desk from home-- the surface smooth as Julia remembered her window sills being. In one hand he held a stapler and the other a collection of files, mostly resumes and applications for internships that he'd been preparing for months before the move. In his head, he planned where each object would be placed in the desk and pushed his wife's concerns to the side to be filed unimportant, to be dealt with later.

As though she knew of his mental filing, Julia fell silent and moved to her own stack of boxes, resting against the wall of the contained kitchen. Bending over, the young woman began the process of removing the various pots and pans they had received as wedding presents. The collection of gleaming chrome slowly seeped into the kitchen with each piece she drew out from its cardboard transportation, adding specs of coloring and dancing light into the dull area of the kitchen. Once the pans were lined on the simple shelving above the stove, Julia moved onto the few appliances they had received as presents: a toaster engraved with their initials, a coffee pot in a vibrant shade of red, and a blender that appeared to be used. While she worked, Mark drifted into his own realm eagerly imagining where his life would now go.

******

After three days of nothing but cardboard boxes, aching backs, and unpacking the apartment had come to life with their belongings. The living room, while still small and almost boxy in its corner between the entryway, kitchen, and hallway back towards the bedrooms, housed the small television purchased used from one of Mark's friends to offer idle entertainment and a loveseat, covered with a faux fur blanket from Julia's childhood bedroom to hide a questionable stain. The walls held a collection of framed images from Julia and Mark's dating progression: holding hands on a bowling date with friends, posing in their formal wear before Homecoming, kissing in the back of a limo for prom, and ended with a wedding photo with Mark's cheek smeared with frosting from their cake. The blocky kitchen space had transformed under Julia's patient and unrelenting care. The small window, that looked out over an alley and a dumpster, was covered with a cheerful, yellow curtain complete with a small ruffle along the bar that held it in place. Their various wedding presents were placed on the limited counter space, partly due to a matching lack of storage space, but also to put on display the small amount of expensive items they owned between themselves. By the fourth day, the fridge held a spattering of "welcome to your new home cards" and a drawing from Julia's youngest cousin depicting Julia and Mark stick figures holding hands in front of a yellow cottage.

"If only it actually looked like that..." Julia remarked while staring down at the innocent sketch. Her eyes the same doe-like diameter they often were, as though she was still in shock after their move. From her side, Mark gently grasped the smooth fingers of her hand, giving a light squeeze while he fit himself behind her in the confined space.

"Someday...After I get working, we can find a place like that. Yellow, cottage-esque, decorated in crayon..." A smile curled up his lips on either side, attributed to the news he had for his wife, fresh from the announcement on his email only a few minutes before. While he squeezed her fingers into an embrace with his own, his lips grazed down onto the side of the petite woman's neck and glided down to where her shirt exposed the pink skin beneath. Her scent flared in his nose, the soft touch of rose alongside the freshness of her soap and the earthy scent of her natural body, unadorned with excessive perfumes. From his hopeful words, her mood lifted and her apron decorated hips gave a roll back against him while a chuckle left her lips.

"I've always believe Crayola to be a daring decorator." Her head turned to the side, over her shoulder to meet his cheek with her lips. The kiss soft, but inviting in its nature while her hips turned to face the male along with her face. Her eyes drifted behind him to where a patch of paint had drooped off the wall and kissed the top of the counter several inches beneath it. "I'm glad you have higher hopes for us than this apartment."

Mark's smile didn't falter while his lips pushed into his wife's once again for another kiss. "I do have higher hopes and already those hopes are coming to life for us. I've got news, baby. Good news."

Blue eyes widened at the announcement but her lips seemed frozen for a moment, unbelieving that nothing had gone wrong yet in the strange environment of the city she so mistrusted after being raised a small-town girl through and through by her conservative, close-knit family. When at last her voice broke through, her tone was almost shrill. "What is it? What's the news?"

Mark's lips set in pleased curl while he soaked in his wife's excitement. "I found an internship that, in time, will evolve into a full-time job once I make my way through school. I'll still have to take out some loans, but the company offers some interest free options if you plan to work with them in the future and some assistance programs. It's supposedly a close-knit company that feels like family, according to some blogs I've read. I'll really fit here, Jules. I'll be able to evolve my skills, my education, and my career here."

Julia's jaw slackened at the news, but when Mark's voice ended she hollered shortly before leaping into his chest with arms unfurling for a tight hug. "Oh baby." She mumbled into the skin of his neck. "I'm so happy for you, for us. This is the start we need!" Her excitement bubbled around them, like the stew sitting on the stovetop behind them, forgotten while her lips morphed from speaking against his neck to kissing it, trailing lower till she grazed his chin and peered up into his eyes.

"Julia..." Marked breathed out in a slow exhale while within his jeans the fabric had tented already, coaxed out after days without such an encounter with his wife. In his eyes, the flame of desire flickered and signaled the woman, "I want you. I need you. Now, right now."

In her own eyes, Julia held a subdued of her husband's flame, conflicting with the glimmer of her affectionate, romantic love that longed to forgo sex for a night cuddling, mumbling sweet nothings to each other. However, Julia knew her husband was not a man of sweeting nothing, unless of course his penis was hilt deep within her, then the nothings came. For Julia though, the moment when her husband went still over top of her, softly panting her name while his face nuzzled into the crook of her neck while he went limp and drifted into sleep was a moment of utter affection, eagerly fought for through the tepide throughs of their lovemaking.

So, despite her wishes for cuddling, Julia drew her lips up to her husband's and let her body sink in against his with enough of a hint for the male to grasp her waist and hoist her upwards. The petite frame of her body settled into the shape of his own and as one shape, Mark brought them into the small bedroom of the apartment, creating a dark atmosphere of privacy.

"Baby, with this internship, I'll be able to get my foot into the door of a hundred other companies..." Both broad hands fumbled with the knots of her apron while Julia shifted herself helpfully and peered up at her husband's animated face above her, illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through the small window. While the apron slipped off her hips and dropped onto the dusty boards of the floor, Julia didn't pipe up to share her opposite announcement-- that no hospital or care center in the city seemed to have space for one young, uneducated wife. Instead, she drew her lips together in a silent smile and kept it on for him while her skirt pooled on her stomach and cotton panties glided down her legs.

"I'm so proud of us.." Mark huffed into her cheek while his own belt clanked in his palms and crumbled onto the bed near his knees, forgotten the instant it no longer constrained his escape from the jeans. While his words included her, the meaning behind his words was evident: "You should be proud of me and you're not saying so."

In response, a smile flitted onto Julia's face, a wider version. "Oh babe, I couldn't be proud of you. Don't say us...It was all you..." While she spoke, Mark continued through the motions of the act, two fingers caressed over her nude sex and sent a short jolt of teasing pleasure up her spine. At the soft coo she released of pleasure, Mark was encouraged and repeated the gestures, petting over her sex with the gentleness reserved for velveteen kittens that filled only a palm. When the faintest moan broke out from Julia's face at the accidental touch of her clitoris, Mark thrust his hips forward, kissed the tip of his eagerly leaking tip to her lower lips, and parted the soft gates to her sex.

"Ohhh...Jules...Oh baby.." His voice rumbled happily through the bedroom, loud enough the pierce the thin wall of the apartment and reach the ears of the judgemental cat-lady Julia had met earlier that day and all her feline minions. Julia sighed out an encouraging mewl when he entered her, but fell silent while the male continued, thrusting up into her snatch with soft mumbles into her neck, repeating the same pet name over and over till it echoed like the overzealous cries of rapid fans and Julia blocked out his voice all together and focused on his breathing, patiently whimpering out her minimal pleasure in the affair till Mark's voice broke in a excited hitch and her voice dramatised itself to squeal after each whimper, huffing his name faintly for him, encouraging.

"Ohhh! Yes! Baby! Yes!" Mark's voice broke the sound barrier of the apartment again while his body spasmed over Julia's and inside her and his shaft jerked, spat into her snatch, and birthed a puddle of spooge within her.

"Yea..Mark.." Julia whispered while her neck craned up to watch his face relax while his orgasm drifted off and her favorite moment arrived.

"Oh Jules, I love you, sweetie. You're so good to me." Mark's voice slowed to a drawl while his body slumped with his sudden exhaustion after release. His lips grazed a cheek and the lump of a collarbone before they parted in a yawn inches from her throat where his head lay, pillowed on her shoulder and breast. While he drifted into sleep, Julia felt every inch of him relax over his, sinking into her weight and fitting them together like lost puzzle pieces. In the moments before he was totally asleep, and still whispered her name like a song of praise against her ear, Julia considered it her form of sex, the one she'd cherish through their marriage. And for the quiet, kind-hearted small-town girl, that moment was enough as was Mark's joy at his internship enough for her to keep silent about her struggles and her discomfort in the city. In the moment that followed their sex, Mark was sated, Julia was content, and together they slept.

When the sun rose and Julia's eyelids lifted, the sleeping bond between the couple was broken. Mark had already exited the apartment in preparation for his internship-- eager to arrive and impress the new colleagues, which left Julia alone to rouse herself and prepared breakfast.

Steam, a ghostly lover, kissed her cheeks while Julia stepped into the shower-- taking her time in her morning routine as she knew the outcome of another day job searching- nothing. With the information about the selectivity of caretaking jobs in Newberry, Julia shoved her task of job searching to the back of her mind and focused instead on the shampoo massaging into her hair, the water racing down her back, and the small pulse of the shower when she let it explore her crotch-- drawing out the tingling sensations her husband had ignored the night before. The heat from the shower seemed to melt like candle wax over her skin till it seeped into the sensitive clitoris and drew out Julia's flickering flame of lust.

While on the other side of town, escorted by bus, Mark strode into his position at the newest firm in the city, Julia wobbled in the shower of their shared apartment and a moan broke the air of the bathroom. Her desperate, lonely release one of intense passion that was quickly discarded once the liquid of her orgasm dribbled down her legs and down the drain, washed away along with the sheen of sweat from her masturbation and the thoughts of the act. As though nothing out of place had occurred, Julia exited the shower and trotted to the kitchen in a towel, now content to leaf through the Classifieds while she toasted her breakfast and idly sipped a cup of coffee.

Despite the content glow from her "routine" however, her unsuccessful search through open positions once more returned Julia to her ground level state and she changed her focus from the newspaper to the window, where she stared blankly hoping her husband's success would make her own failure worthwhile.

******

"Mark, you've got potential here. I think if you keep up the good work you could really become part of this firm's big family." A plump, watermelon-bellied man slapped Mark's shoulder with one hand while the other tightly gripped on the low-fat mochachino the man had ordered for Mark to deliver.

Despite the fact that the praise was food-induced, Mark glowed like a freshly impregnated woman and saluted the man eagerly. "That's my hope, sir!" Though he didn't hang around to watch the man drip hot coffee onto his already stained white button-down. With the first step forward in his evolution within the company, Mark rushed off to deliver the rest of the coffee.

Through the entire day, the man's words repeated in his mind over and over until Mark exploded through the door of the apartment and swept Julia up into a tight embrace around her waist. "Baby! I've done it again! It's only been a week but I'm on my way!"

Julia let out a yelp of surprise, but plastered a smile on for her husband and turned in his arms to face him, encircling his neck in a gentle hug while she kissed his chin sweetly. "I'm so proud of you, but I knew all along you'd make it." She gave him a light squeeze before pulling back so that Mark noticed the suit jacket she wore overtop of a simple, pinstriped skirt-- business attire.

"Do you have an interview?" Mark's eyes went wide with shock, enough to hint that he wasn't completely oblivious to Julia's inability to find work in the jam-packed city.

Her head bobbed in a small nod. "Over on Maple street, I was going to take the Subway for the first time on the way there. Want to meet for dinner afterwards? In celebration of your hard work?" Silently, Julia hoped her own good news would trump his status report on the internship after the interview at a small, privately owned hospital specifically for women. However, she didn't have high expectations of such a thing occurring.

At the suggestion, Mark grinned widely. "Of course!" Both hands held his wife's cheeks while he leaned in and softly touched his lips to her forehead in the most affectionate gesture he often practiced. "Knock 'em dead, sweetie."

Julia glowed under the encouragement, finding herself throwing her doubts to the wind with her husband's sudden return to her, though she was oblivious to the fact that the distance would return once he realized what the city had to offer besides education and work. Once Mark was exposed to the tantalizing underside of the city's success he'd be tempted like a child alone with a cookie jar.

For the night, the couple was reunited. Julia left for her interview while Mark walked himself downtown, avoiding the Subway while taking in the sights of a city he'd truly seen very little of. The buildings that scratched the sky still took his breath away even after a week of working among them. Back home, in Noxford, he remembered the tallest thing being the water tower, but the tallest building was only double his height. Here, the buildings clashed with clouds for room and for the small-town boy, despite his stint pretending to be otherwise, it was a virgin sight.

While Mark wandered the city, intrigued by the smells wafting from bakeries, the wares resting outside boutiques, and the performers twirling through the sidewalks' crowds, Julia settled into the chair at her interview, across from a broad shoulder, mustached woman with short cropped hair and muscles that bulged the size of her shrunken skull.

"My name is Berta. I run hospital."

For a moment, Julia was stunned into silence at the image of her interviewer, shocked that it wasn't someone who looked more caring or perhaps, more normal. Even by city standards, this woman was not the picture of normalcy. Still pondering the woman's appearance, Julia stumbled on her words,"I-I'm Julia. I'm hoping to get a job here."

"What's your experience in hospitals?" The large woman leaned back in her chair and ran both hands through her short hair, looking exhausted with the job seeker.

"I've volunteered at the local hospital, in-in Nowford, since I started high school and my first job was in a caretaking position with a nursing home." Julia recited, though the information the woman was demanding was clearly spelled out on her resume.

"Is nursing home a hospital?!" Both eyes in the undernourished head of the interviewer bulged out like those of a fish squished beneath a boot. "You tell me about nursing home! I run hospital!" A spray of spittle lept from the woman's bottom lip, that had sagged in her explosion, but Julia remained unchanged and emotionless before the seemingly enraged female until suddenly Berta relaxed completely and a small smile curled her lips.

"Very good," Berta's voice morphed into a softer, nicer alternative to its earlier chopped English. "That was a test, dear. We've got a lot of crazy people in here. I can't have people who join 'em." She paused for a long moment, as though considering her next words carefully. "Why don't we just skip down to the good stuff. Tell me about yourself..."

Unnerved by the shift in the interview, Julia tripped over herself in her explanations and didn't raise herself from the metaphorical floor for a full half an hour when Berta finally silenced her with a blunt interruption. "Dearie, you can stop. I've got a line of interviews lined up and I don't want to make them late home. I'll call you if you get it." Berta's smile was tightlipped and weak and Julia saw straight through the nicity. With her chin tucked towards her chest and a swirl of discomfort within her gut, Julia fled towards the door and onto the street where Mark leaned against a streetlamp, waiting with a far-off expression painted over his face.

When Mark's gaze met Julia's face, a grimace conquered over the smile that had started on his face. "Babe..." He started, but a wave of her gloved hand cut him off and the glare in her face kept him silent.

"I'm going home. I'm going to make dinner in our tiny kitchen while looking at the wall that's crying off its wallpaper and get splinters from the windowsill. Then I'll go to bed and try to pretend that I'm back home in a town where our house isn't ripping apart at the seams and I can get a job without being "tested" by a frightening Russian woman with the head of a rat and the eyes of a fish." A flat placidness existed in her voice, but her eyes showed the fire bubbling beneath her contained rage. A week of struggling while Mark succeeded because of her sacrifice of moving to the city finally broke through her barrier of her control and her make-do attitude enough to send her briskly down the sidewalk, away from her husband, yet another rejection, and the sky scratchers.

The next morning, Mark let himself out of the house early in the morning, before the sun had broken through the curtains of their bedroom, and headed to the office eager for a break from his wife as he had no clue how to deal with her outbreak. Up until the night before, he had been oblivious to the magnitude of her discomfort of the move. However, in his mind, he saw it as a phase that would pass as parents view the passing trends of the teenagers Mark himself had been among not so long before.

Upon entering the office, in his dark suit, Mark strode towards the small table that housed the free coffee that only the interns drank since everyone else ordered coffee from the nearby coffeeshop that the interns then delivered. Today, however, one of the business managers from higher up in the building stood at the table, nursing a steaming styrofoam cup.

"Good morning." Mark stepped beside the man while he poured his own cup, neglecting cream or sugar for the liquid breakfast.

"'Morn, Mark right?"

For a moment, Mark was bewildered to have his name repeated back to him as he was so often reminding people what it was. "Y-yeah. Mark."

"I'm Bryan. How are ya?"

"Uhh. I'm okay." The images of Julia from the night before, storming away from him, sobbing while she stirred a pot at the stove, and curled away from him in their shared bed came back to him and he grimaced. "Well, could be better, I guess. My wife-"

"Oh man. I get that! The women are always what brings us down! I mean, I love my Jenny, but I do not like her sometimes! You know what I mean?" Bryan's eyebrow twitched up in a knowing way, though Mark was still in a state of shock towards the conversation and barely reacted. "Listen, you should come out with me and the guys from Floor 5 tonight. You've been doing great work anyways- I'm sure the boss wouldn't mind see ya relax."

Mark gave a slow nod, though his mind struggled to process the exchange between himself and the established business man who spoke to him. At the motion of his head, a hand clapped his shoulder.

"Good! We'll grab you before we leave for the bar then! Call your lady at lunch and let her know. We stay out late." One eye twitched in a wink before Bryan had entered the elevatored and was carted upwards towards the fifth floor leaving Mark standing with his constantly cooling liquid caffination staring dumbly after him till another intern punched his shoulder lightly.

"Dude, you just got welcomed into the businessman club of Newberry, you're gonna be getting an office and a position in now time. Not to mention the *other* perks..." A lewd grin covered the pimpled face of the other intern whose tie was skewed and collar button half slipping from the assigned hole. At the sight of him, Mark shyed away and inched towards the elevator, not wanting to be connected to the young college kid, obviously only in the internship for the experience and not for the chance of a job.

As he boarded the elevator, however, the kid's words drifted back to his mind. "What other perks are there besides an office and a job?" Mark wondered, speaking aloud in the privacy of the elevator. Throughout the day, silently in his head, the question repeated, building his anticipation to unseen heights until Bryan tapped him on the shoulder while the young man stood filing folders.

"Ready, man?" Bryan's voice popped into Mark's head suddenly and broke the monotony of the filing.

"Hey?" Mark blinked and swiveled to face the man, whose collar had been undone and his suit coat discarded over an arm. Behind Bryan, a spattering of similar men waited, all with the same broad grin of his.

"Let's go. The earlier we get to the club the better seat we get."

"Yeah! We like the long table in front, right by the stage!"

Mark blinked again, "Club? Stages? W-where are we going?"

"Dude, you didn't tell him? Poor dude, isn't he from like bumfuck nowhere? This is gonna be awesome for him!" The men belted out a chorus of laughed and Bryan's hand slid onto Mark's shoulder again.

"We're going down to Stars and Strips- a strip club, a real classy one though. Trust me." A broad smile covered Bryan's lips while his arm encircled Mark's shoulder in a half hug that he used to guide Mark towards the elevator. "It really helps everyone unwind after a long day of business...Plus, it'll give you a glimpse of what the city is really like.."

To Mark, bred and raised in the middle of nowhere with no excitement, the words dripped out of Bryan's mouth like honey from a bees nest, sweet and tantalizing, and before a reasonable explanation of what was happening surfaced, his head bobbed and his feet moved into the elevator blindly following to their final destination- Stars and Strips.

"Heya! Welcome to Stars and Strips! I'm Belinda. I'm going take you boys to a table and get your drinks!" The busty blonde had met the group of men at the door directly after they arrived when Mark was still taking in the outer decor of the club. A deep rouge rug had led out from the door down the sidewalk where a moderately buff security guard checked each man's ID carefully and waved them down the walkway towards open doors leading into the brightly lit area of the club. Inside, an elongated bar stretched along one wall, equally well stocked with alcohol and large-chested bartenders making an excessive amount of drinks, shaken *not* stirred. Across the large floor plan was tables intermixed among stages, with walkways connecting to a large, center stage and circular mini- center stages with gleaming poles. Two of the stages were occupied, surrounded by the majority of the visitors already there for the night. The first stage held a petite blonde with disproportionately large breasts that seemed to strain against the criss-crossed leather over them. Her face, shockingly innocent for such fetish oriented dress, had a faint sheen of sweat that glistened under the bright lights while her lips held a glittering smile, directed down at her adoring audience. The second stage held a curvier woman, though her curves were subtle in the corset that covered her flesh and pushed her breasts upwards. In contrast to the less revealing nature of the corset in comparison to the first dancer, the second's panties slit down the center and showed a glimpse of her sex within the minimal amount of fabric. Tall, leather boots completed her ensemble.

At the sight of both, first together and then in detail one by one with the same wide-eyed stare, Mark's jaw dipped towards the floor. "Wh-what do you tell your wives while you're here?" Mark finally demanded, after the original shock of seeing women dressed like he only saw in the grainy pornography he often downloaded as a teenager- a sight he didn't believe ever happened outside of such videos.

One of the businessmen, introduced as Larry, chuckled to himself and rolled both shoulder back while he relaxed into the leather seats of a lounge area in the center of both stages and another, longer, originally unoccupied one. "Mark, I just tell her I'm going out! That woman couldn't care less where I am all night as long as I come home with some money to give her for shoes, makeup, and fancy-ass bras!"

The other men guffawed and nodded, slapping each others backs before the too settled down onto their respective seats and turned their attention partly to the undressing women. "It's true, man. As long as I come home still smelling like the perfume she rubbed off onto me during her goodbye hug this morning, I'm all clean."

At the statement, Bryan laughed heartily. "And that's why you carry around a bottle of rose-scented body spray in your car!" The other men joined in the laughter at the comment, but Mark was stunned. His brain , trained by his youth in a small town, struggled to comprehend the level of dishonesty the men held with their partners. As if of its own mind, his lips curled up in a slight grimace which the man to his right, Richard, noticed promptly.

"Ah, buddy. You're thinking we're horrible husbands, right?" His tone held no malice, and timidly, Mark nodded. "Right. But that's simply not true, ya see. Our wives are happy! They aren't stupid either! They know what's a-going on, but they appreciate what we do as men bringing home the bacon while they spend the day shopping and making themselves look pretty for us when we get home and because they appreciate us, they let us get away with some stuff."

From across the table, another voice interjected, "Richard's right. Besides, my gal doesn't want me to ride her as often as need'ta get off. So she lets me pump a few other ladies full of spunk, long as I come home freshly showered before I come home to sleep beside her. She don't care. Hell, she might even have a thing going on with our neighbor boy. Ya see, he's a young'un and still thinks a lady who demands pleasure and don't return it is sexy. I'm old enough to know that's just a lady-like way of saying 'gimme, but you ain't getting any.'"

Mark floundered under the wave of information, but surfaced enough to take in a gasping breath. "Your wives really don't care that you do this?"

Heads shook, side to side. "No man! That's just part of being in the city! City wives are chill bitches!" A round of cheers left the men at the comment in what Mark assumed to be agreement. Though when, from the stage, a strap of leather dropped onto the smooth wood of the stage and round breasts bounced freely into few the conversation between the men died to watch the last few strips of fabric leave the smaller dancer and Mark was left, silently sitting, turning over the lesson the men taught him in his head over and over and over. While the other men watch articles of clothing flutter down onto the floor and new dancers struts down the lengthy walkways to their own assigned circles, Mark examined his marriage, turning over each element in his mind carefully from the viewpoint of his newly found peer group. By the time the third dancer of the night swirled down the gleaming pole in front of the men, Mark had reached a new perspective towards Julia and resolved that she had to adjust to their new home and act like a city wife.

Once his mind was set, Mark slipped into the routine of the other businessmen; his body sunk further into the leather seat with the relaxation of one settled in their own body. Both eyes, before skittering away from the sight of the nearly naked females, now locked onto the scene before him with a hunger that rivaled that of his youth when he first discovered the XXX sites on his aging laptop. Under his gaze, the women popped, locked, dropped, spun, twirled, and grinded with their respective poles- various outfits of leather, lace, satin, mesh, and bodypaint glittered, entertaining the men like coins while wow a simple-minded crow. Though when the sun had sunk deep into the horizon and the moon rose began its length night shift, the men began to break apart-- wandering off with scantily clad waitresses with ending shifts, stumbling out with reeking breath of booze, and slinking away with their phones flashing an image of a sweetly smiling woman. Left with only a few lingering suits, Mark left his own chair and slipped out into the cool air of the night, reflecting on the night with an air of self-satisfaction while he hailed an overpriced taxi and was carted towards home.

Curled on the couch with a novel, the sound of the front door unlocking brought Julia suddenly out of her book-induced haze. "Honey? Is that you?" She called while she slid onto her feet and smoothed two hands over her rumpled skirt. "Did you have to work late? Where were you?"

At her questions, Mark snapped back to the moment at the start of the night spent at the stripclub downtown and stomped a foot towards the petite woman, "Julia, why are you so demanding? You don't have any right to question what I do! I'm the one supporting us! All you're doing is sitting at home all day doing god know what-" His eyes darted to the novel left on their scuffed coffee table- "Reading!" He scoffed. "I work all day and you're at home nursing some mushy romance!" A huff of air shot from his nostrils while his mind raced back to his purpose in attacking the young woman. "You gotta start acting like these women here in the city, you're in the city now. You gotta be a city wife."

For a long moment, Julia was speechless. Her lips parted and opened as if to speak but then simply closed like those of a fish thrown onto the boards of a deck to idly open and close his jaws. As his words sunk in, the insults landing like straggling arrows that finally hit their mark, Julia's lips curled into a snarl. "What does that even mean?"

Mark glared back; his eyes forming daggers. "The other men have 'fun' wives who don't try to control them, who dress up for them and decorate themselves to be attractive when they come home. They don't demand things of them or whine or complain. Their wives act sexy! They seduce them! Have you ever seduced me? No! You make me do all the work! Even in bed!" A growl of frustration left the male and he went to continue on his rant, but his young wife cut him off sharply.

"You pig! How dare you! You know how I was raised! What sort of culture do you think allows for those men to have sluts for wives? Not mine! That's for sure! I will never seduce you, you sick man. I am your wife. I am to be respected! I'm supposed to be beautiful! Not some degraded sex pot. You disgust me. Don't ask about this again." Her voice fell deeper, into an octave that she only used when truly hurt, but her eyes blazed with an furious passion that Mark had never before witness and given different circumstances, might have found to be arousing with their rebellious feistiness. However, before he could rebutted her statement, Julia had charged down the hall and slammed the flimsy door of their bedroom-- sending the feline-obsessed neighbor in the apartment over into a rage of her own, complete with agreeing mewls from her platoon of cats.

Left with no clue how to continue, Mark trudged to the edge of the couch and collapsed onto it-- upset and exhausted.

******

Mere hours after Julia stormed to bed and left Mark to toss and turn on the couch, the sun broke through the sky and sent the moon shuffling to bed after a long night at work. Without the same curtains of the bedroom, the living room was filled with the light of the new morning and Mark groaned under the glare of it while his eyes flickered like dying light bulbs till he could withstand the brightness.

"Oh man...I gotta talk to Julia..." He grumbled before he slid off the couch and stumbled towards the bedroom. However, when he arrived at the door, it hung open on its hinges and the bed was empty. Julia had left before he woke.

Grumbling once again, Mark showered and dressed for another day of the office while his mind churned over the fight with his wife. He questioned whether the men the night before had led him astray in their advice, whether their wives were strange abnormalities that would never occur again in the history of mankind, and if his own wife would return when he did after work. Despite his mental occupation, Mark went through the motions smoothly and delivered himself promptly to work-- in time to be greeted by a beaming pair of men. Richard and Larry, both grinning while they carted in their briefcases, greeted Mark at the door.

"How are ya, Mark? Didja have a good time last night?"

At the question, Mark's nose crinkled in memory of his wife's outburst which Larry quickly noticed and commented on. "Ah man, I know *that* face. The wife give ya hell?"

Mark gave a small nod, sharing the story of his demands towards his wife and her "over-reaction" to his request. Both of the other men nodded sympathetically, before a portly, bald man clapped Mark on the shoulder and leaned over his side. "Cheer up, Mark, and see me in my office. It's time we had a little chat."

At first, confusion masked Mark's face at the identity of the sudden speaker, but a glimpse at the rounded face familiarized it quickly. The boss. Monsieur Dominique Rousseau himself has invited Mark into his office.

While the bald man strode off towards the aforementioned room, the color drained from Mark's cheeks and a ghastly white replaced the fleshy pink of a healthy, calm human being. "Oh man...He's gonna fire me.." He whimpered faintly before bypassing his daily stop at the coffee table and heading straight to the commanded location, unwilling to put off the inevitable.

While the heavy door swung closed behind him, Mark regretted rushing into his dismissal. Rousseau sat behind a broad chestnut desk, both arms resting on the smooth surface, while he greeted Mark when the man stepped into the room. "Go ahead, sit down. I have a lot to say to you."

With a meek nod, Mark sat down and remained still, tight-lipped, and stared steadily forward at the large man, ignoring the glimmering business awards plastered behind the desk or the expansive view of the city out the window on the side of the room.

Once he cleared his throat, Rousseau dove straight into his monologue, "Mark, since you showed up at this company looking like you still remembered the distinct flavor of your mother's teat and acted like the world was as cheerful as a Charlie Brown episode, I watched you dive into every pointless assignment these knuckleheads gave you and then I watched you bond with those knuckleheads and if they accept you that tells me some seriously good things about you. That's why I'm adding you onto our list of officials employees, no more intern bullshit- coffee runs, cleaning up spills, and tying our bibs. You're gonna be ordering coffee now. We've got an open office on the fifth floor with your friends, it's got a window even. But mostly importantly, I'm giving you your own secretary." His hand waved towards a second door to his office, that led into a conference room Mark believed. "Come on in, Marion."

The door swung open. Mark's jaw dropped to the floor. The girl was tall with a long torso with long, elegant legs that seemed to stretch on endlessly beneath the end of a short, tight-fitting pinstriped skirt that hugged her hips and butt and went high on her waist until her belly button where a ruffled silk shirt took over, cutting deep over her cleavage to show the swell of plump breasts. Standing alone well above average height, stiletto heels added another six inches to her height and lifted her pert bottom into a higher level. Once she entered, the boss restarted his drawling speech again, but Mark was gone-- staring at the girl-- Marion.

"M-Mister?" Mark's trance broke once the long-legged woman stepped several feet closer and gently grabbed onto his elbow. "We're supposed to head to your office. I'll lead the way." With her instructions delivered, Marion took a confident stride forward and started them at a brisk pace towards the elevator that would lead them to the correct floor of the building. The quick pace brought a small skip to her step, making both breasts and ass jiggle in a way Mark, and any spying interns, appreciated greatly even at eight o'clock in the morning when in theory their morning jack off should have lingered over to offer a buffer zone of appropriate behavior. Nonetheless, Mark found himself staring like a cat stares at a can of tuna sitting on the counter unattended-- he knew he shouldn't be considering the possibility so seriously yet there wasn't a single person around to tell him no.

Once again, his mind drifted into a land of its own only to be yanked back the present by the soft, yet commanding voice once again. "Earth to Mark, here's your office." She swung her arm out to gesture through the opened door to the room-- making both breasts jiggle within her loose top and once he stopped watched the shaking orbs, Mark's eyes swept over the office. Although small, it was an elegant space. The window, that Rousseau had mentioned earlier, was expansive across most of the back wall of the office, parallel to the door. Comparative to that in his boss's office, the desk was a large, solid wood with a sleek laptop centered on it and a chrome pencil cup with a spattering of pens off to the side. On the left wall was shelving and filing cabinets-- emptied after the last occupant of the office was promoted onward to better things or relieved of his job all together. Opposite, on the right wall, was a lounge chair with a minature, decorative pillow embroided with the company's logo. All together, the sight of the office rivaled the appearance of any space Mark had worked in before.

"I don't even know what to say..." Mark mumbled, half to himself, though the young assistant assumed it was directed towards her and responded accordingly, both eyes tipped up to meet his and her voice rolled in a rich purr-like register.

"Well then, don't say anything at all. Just feel your way into the job." While her words didn't suggest anything obviously sexual, the tone of her voice changed her entire meaning and quickened Mark's pulse. The steady beat of his heart before jumped upwards into his ears and pounded as blood rushed through his mind-- ready to go downwards.

"Y-you're right. I should just thrust myself into the job!" Mark attempted to put them back on the topic of work but his distracted mind, slowly losing the supply of blood it needed, had selected the wrong verb for his statement, giving the female another segue into flirtation.

"You're right, boss. You'd have better get thrusting." While she spoke she turned partly away from him and leaned over the desk to begin booting up the laptop. The position gave her the appearance of leaning over the desk and offering her upturned rump to him for aforementioned thrusting. At the sight, the blood that idly meandered towards Mark's groin threw itself into a leap, headlong into his penis. By the time Marion righted herself, Mark's pants strained around the bulk of a boner, raging suddenly within the fabric cage.

"Can you go fetch me some coffee?" Mark blurted while his memory of skipping coffee that morning returned suddenly when he attempted to distract himself from the swell of arousal the woman was causing him. Even the small nod she gave from his question, before strutting out of the room, seemed to make both breasts shake gently as though loose within the silk of her top. The thought of such a possibility, a young assistant so eager to seduce her future boss she forgoes a bra completely, only further engorged Mark's steel-like shaft attempting to stand upright within his slacks.

"This is going to be a long day..." Mark thought to himself before he sank into the leather seat that waited behind the desk and peered down at the computer, trying to focus on his emails and assignments for the day while the assistant was occupied getting his coffee.

Her absence, however, did not last nearly as long as it would have needed to for Mark to have fulfilled his assignments for the day in the peace she left behind. Only fifteen minutes later she returned, beaming with the pearly white rows of teeth behind her full lips, while she carried in a tall, foam cup that steamed through the small opening on the plastic lid. In her opposite hand she also held a styrofoam box. "I brought you your coffee and a muffin-- you looked hungry." She paused and set the items on the desk beside him before she perched on the edge like a bird flitting down onto a power cord momentarily. "Did your wife forget to make your breakfast before she ran off to her own job?"

Without thinking, Mark let the groan that formed in his mind slip out from his lips. "I wish she'd just forgotten. She left the house before I was even awake, she's still mad after last night..." Though once he saw the hungry look in the assistant's eyes, both lips sealed together. Nonetheless, the damage was done.

"Ah really? You're hitting some bumps with the wifey?" A pout pushed her bottom lip outwards, though her eyes held no true sympathy for him. "That's really too bad. It's a good thing you have me here to take care of you, isn't it?" She nodded, miming the correct response for him while she leaned over the desk, offering up a full view of the crease of her cleavage within the loose top she wore while her lips touched to his cheek in the lightest of kisses. "Don't you worry. I'll make up for your wife's failures."

Mark's head bobbed in response, but his mind was lost to the sight of her full breasts within her top which indeed seemed to lack much of a bra. Both breasts swayed beneath her slightly, visible through the deep cut of the v-neck shirt. While he stared, arms dropped around his neck and Marion leaned in further, pressing her breasts into his face while she hugged him. "You poor thing, you." She crooned down into his hair while his lips were muffled against a mix of silken fabric and equally smooth skin. "Marion will make everything okay..."

In a daze, Mark accepted the hug and her words and without his notice, the morning starting to slip away while he was occupied with the young, flirtatious new assistant whose single-minded goal was seduction. By noon, when the office building buzzed with the life of workers bees leaving for nearby sandwich shops, cafes, and for some, corner bars, Mark had accomplished next to nothing and his mind was a flurry of images supplied by Marion: a glimpse of her nipples, pert beneath the thin silken fabric of her top when she insisted on opening the window and letting in a breeze of the cool, afternoon air; the suggestive appearance of her eyes, tipped up to him when she dropped to her knees to smooth a crease out of his pants leg; and the deep rouge of her panties, peeking out from between her thighs when she bent to adjust her toes within her heels directly in front of his large desk. The effect of it all left Mark distracted and dazed with arousal. While the other workers drifted off to lunch he just slumped back in his chair and drew both hands over his eyes with a sigh.

"Oh no! Is someone a little tired?" A gaspy coo left Marion's lips while she scooted forward and set herself onto his lap, running two petite hands over his chest. "Should I ask the boss man if you can go on home to your wife and get some sleep?" Her eyes stared down at him while her face hovered as a hazy shape through the cracks of the hands he'd placed over his face.

"Yes, please." He finally grumbled, the pressure of her on his crotch while she practically snuggled into his chest. Her hips, in a light subtle motion, started to roll into him slightly following his words while her lips dipped down and crawled over his neck with each step a butterfly-light kiss over his skin.

"I'll go ask the boss, but I think you should relax tonight. You deserve to feel nice, Mark. You're a big shot now..." Her voice was rich and smooth as chocolate while it flowed into his ears. While she spoke, her hands continued their touch over his chest, massaging through his shirt while her hips worked into his groin in her gentle manner. After a few moments ticked past while she did whatever she good to pass along her message to the male, her lips pressed beneath his ear in a warm, wet kiss that left a ring of lipstick on the skin beneath. "Feel good, Mark..."

With that, she slipped off his lap and prepared his things for him to leave and Mark, dazed now more than ever, rubbed the lipstick off his neck, or so he thought, though the rich pigment bled onto his shirt collar smeared in the shape of a lingering kiss. Finally feelings relieved of the lingering pressure he felt, Mark floated out of the office building in a zealous mood. On the way home, he practically skipped down the sidewalk, foregoing a taxi to stroll his way back to the apartment.

When he arrived home and the door swung open with a creak of its hinges, Julia perked up inside the kitchen and poked her head around the wall of the open room to watch Mark as he entered the house, humming to himself and twirling his house key around one finger. Seeing such a good mood on a man who yesterday seemed so irritable instantly raises the woman's hackles and she inched out of the kitchen. "What's got you so happy?"

Mark swiveled to face the woman after re locking the door behind him with a small shrug, "I got an office today and an assistant. The boss believes I'm a valuable asset to the team." He attempted to brush past her but a hand touched his shoulder and pushed his shirt collar flat to his upper back.

"What's this?" The kiss mark captured on Mark's color glowed vibrantly off the fabric. At the question, Julia's eye flared nearly the same color as the lipstick. A deep rouge of upset and anger swirled into her blue eyes. "What is this?"

Pushing past her successfully the second time, Mark rolled his shoulder to push off her hand. "It's nothing. You're just imagining things because you're used to being a jealous, little country girl."

A shallow, hurt gasp lept from Julia's lips and she shrank back from her husband before slipping down the hall like a criminal fleeing into darkness. Slumped on their shared bed, Julia's hand dropped onto her hands as though the life that kept her animated had just slipped out in the gasp from Mark's cutting remark. Despite the swell of tears that built in her eyes, Julia's cheeks stayed dry and a dull ache buried itself in her chest. The heavy veil of depression hung over Julia's face until a glimpse at her cell phone on the bedside table reminded her she wasn't completely alone in the matter. In fact, she knew just who to call.

"Hello? Grandma? Can you talk?" Julia leaned back onto the bed and held the phone tightly to her ear, talking low while she related the past few day to her grandmother's patient ears and the eavesdropping ears of the elderly woman's faithful dog.

When she finished with his story, the woman's gentle voice crackled through the cell phone's speakers in a wave of empathy. "Darling, I know exactly how you feel. I encountered this with my first husband. And I have just the thing for you, dear."

"Y-you do? What?"

"My old wedding rings, they're truly wonderful, they cure unfaithfulness- if it should occur. I'll ship them to you right away, darling. I'll head right now to the Fedex. I know Bill won't mind getting one more package even this late in the day."

Julia thanked her eagerly, but kept the ending of the conversation short so the woman had time to make her way to the post office to mail the rings. Once alone again, without the soothing voice of her grandmother, Julia slid onto her side, sunk her head into the plush pillow, and let sleep take her weary mind off into a better land of dreams and fantasy.

The next morning, before he escaped out the front door to work, Mark met Julia at the kitchen table where she opened a crisp Fedex package that the two rings tumbled out of. "I want us to wear these now. They were my grandmothers." Julia told him with a serious tone and both lips drawn in a line.

Knowing her relationship with her grandmother, Mark grimaced slightly as he knew something from her grandmother would be hard to get out of. "They look it though. I don't want to be the old fashioned guy at work wearing hand-me-down rings."

Julia's lips formed a scowl while she pushed one ring towards him. "If we could have a hand-me-down version of my grandmother's romance, we would be lucky. Her and my grandfather were loyal to each other and madly in love every step of the way through thick and thin. I want that for us too."

With a masked wince, Mark nods his head and casted a glance at the clock. "Sure, Sure. I'll wear it. Whatever." The ring slipped easily onto his finger and he rushed out the door, leaving Julia without so much as a parting kiss before he hailed a cab and headed to the office.

Striding across the lobby floor five minutes later than usual, Mark is met in stride by his assistant, this time wearing a body hugging red dress that clung to every inch of her curved shape. "Good morning, Mister Coblin." She greeted briskly, smiling up at him while her heels clicked beside his loafers.

"Morning, Marion. What's going on today?"

A cool grin settled onto the woman's lips while she read off the day's schedule of meetings, finishing with: "And tonight you'll be taking me out to dinner." From a folder pressed between her arm and her side she fished out a sheath of papers. "Here's the minutes for the meeting you'll be 'attending' while we go eat out at Chez Bernard, a lovely little French bistro. Their food is to die for! Every time I go I feel like a big ole' pig afterwards!" She giggled and bumped into his side in a friendly manner. "What do ya say?"

Mark considered the offer carefully, but a glimpse down the girl's deeply slitted shirt at the ample cleavage she left on constant display for him had his head nodding in response. "That'd be lovely, Marion. It's a date."

The girl practically purred with delight, "Oh yes it is, a date!" A broad smile crossed her face before they reached the doors of the elevator and she paused. "I'm helping them interview some new interns, to replace the hole you left when you were promoted! So you go get to work, Mister Coblin. I'll find you after work.."

While the metal doors of the elevator slide shut, Mark contemplated what he'd done and not an ounce of regret flooded into his mind. Instead, he felt a rush of excitement at the thought of a date, dinner at a fancy place with a woman who was excited to dress up and show off for him. A woman with ample cleavage to show him unlike his conservative wife who only showed her breasts under the cloak of night time's darkness. No, Mark didn't feel bad for agreeing to Marion's adulterous date. He felt excited like a boy the night before Christmas, ready to open the package and see what was in store.

******

When the clock strikes five, an imagined cheer rolled through the hallways of the office build while Mark shot out of his desk and rushed to examine himself in the mirror beside his door. Both hands fidgeted with hair and clothes till things seemed to lay correctly, just in time for the office door to swing open to show the illusive assistant, Marion ready to take him out. Like she had earlier that day, she wore the same deep red dress that matched the signature coloring of her lipstick, but her hair had been let down and was windswept and free, falling over her shoulders and down her back-- a picture Mark imagined without the fabric of her dress keeping her hair from touching to skin.

"Are you ready to go, Mister Coblin?" One hand reached out to curled around his biceps, a soft cat-like purr rumbled in her chest at the feel of it as though she was appreciating his impressive muscle.

"Oh yes.." Mark's arm dropped to curl around the woman's hip, feeling the smooth curve of her sides. "I'm very ready..." Marion only giggled and nodded before she pushed open the door to the office and led them out of the building, onto the street, and towards their final destination at the restaurant only a few blocks away. Once they arrived, Marion introduced herself to the greeter with a broad smile and the same, cleavage-exposing bend she often employed with Mark to seat them quickly in a private corner of the small, elegant area.

"Didn't I tell you? It's beautiful," She crooned while she stared across the table at him with both arms pushed towards each other on either sides of her chest, forcing both rounded breasts into each other in a squished display of her bosom once again.

Presented with the sight of her, Mark whined appreciatively and nodded. "Oh yes, it is..." Though his eyes never once left the female body to examine the decor of the restaurant like she'd intended him to. However, Marion only chuckled good-naturedly and pushed a menu towards him. "Why don't you figure out what to order and then oggle me some more?"

Mark grinned lewdly, falling into the laid trap of making him more eager and wanting for her with each second that passed. Following instructions, he dropped both eyes to the menu, finding the pictures of the offered food to be a tantalizing as the delectable pair of breasts across the table from him and staring at the laminated papers his stomach grumbled with a demanding hunger. When the waiter appeared at the table, Mark had a list of additions for his main course and practically salivated when he was told of the wait time.

"We have to wait so long to get our food." Both eyes locked back onto the young woman across the table once the menus were carted off along with their respective orders back towards the kitchen where the chefs worked in flurries to prepare the various dishes needed to serve the bistro.

A slow smile swept over Marion's red lips while her finger touched to the base of her throat and drew slowly down over the bare, exposed skin of her neck. "I think....I can find a way to entertain you till our food arrives..." While her finger traveled down into her cleavage, Mark just stared till her index fingers hooked into the fabric of her dress and actually pulled it down slightly, giving him a deeper view of what lay beneath the thin, red fabric, which was enough to pull out a soft groan. "Do you want this?" She whispered with a voice tainted with the gruffness of arousal.

Lamely, Mark's head bobbed from his side of the table with his gaze still pointed towards the tip of her v-neck. Beneath the table, his trousers swelled with the growth of his boner once again. The constraining fabric enough to summon a hand down to rearrange himself down one pant leg.

"Am I making you hot? Hard? Do you wish we were alone here? So you could throw me on the table and just...ravage me. Is that what you want, Mark?" Her voice lowered to that of the sharing of secrets and her eyes clutched his.

With a fresh level of desperation, Mark nodded. His head swam with her words while his imagination frantically created mental images for her words. Suddenly however, the scent of their arriving dinner stole away his thoughts and his attention dropped onto the steaming plate in front of him. "Oh man..." A sigh of anticipation left his lips while Mark scooped up fork and plate and dove into the plate, the dirty language of his date forgotten when his appetite took over.

And what an appetite it was. Usually, Mark was a man of one sometimes two helpings of whatever was served onto the dinner table at night and then he'd be full and satisfied with the feeling of his stomach. Tonight, however, hunger gripped him like the urge for alcohol grips an alcoholic. His first platter of food, a rich sandwich of ham that oozed with cheese out the sides and into the slices of bread disappeared within ten minutes of it being placed onto the table in front of him. The sides he'd ordered along with it quickly followed until Mark leaned forward over the table and snuck his fork onto Marion's plate, stealing bites of her veal.

"What's gotten into you, Mark? I've never seen a man eat so much!" Marion exclaimed, her arousal from earlier lost in a form of shock edged with disgust at the speed and quantity of Mark's consumption. "When I said I ate like a pig I was exaggerating, but you've surpassed that."

Sheepishly, Mark shrugged. "I don't know. My appetite is just a bit inflated I supposed..." Marion returned the shrug and let the topic drop, but the rest of the night leaked past quickly and soon after Marion had slipped away. Mark was alone at the front door of his home, slipping the key into the hole of the lock with as little noise as he could manage. However, before he twisted it and pushed the door, it swung open to show Julia, arms crossed. "Where were you? It's nearly nine!"

Mark pushed past and fished the minutes out from his briefcase, almost smirking when the woman glanced at Marion's crisp handwriting. Julia isn't entertained by the excuse. "Just remember, Mark. When I moved here I made a huge sacrifice for you. Don't throw that away lightly..."

Nonetheless, Mark shrugged and moved towards the bedroom, unwilling to spend a moment considering the severity of Julia's words or the truth that they held. At a standpoint, the two parted ways for the night; Mark trotted down the hall to the bedroom while Julia sunk down onto the couch, thinking.

In her pondering, Julia stumbled upon the memory of a comment Mark made shortly after they moved out of their respective houses before the wedding about how he missed when his mother made long spreads of food for breakfast with a plethora of options and how it left him feeling full and happy the entire day. At midnight, as the thought washed over her, Julia decided she'd cook a similar breakfast the next morning it hopes of reminding her husband of his conservative roots he strayed from.

And so, when the sun parted the curtains of the clouds and stepped onto the stage of the day, Julia, dressed in an apron, was cooking a selection of sausage, bacon, and ham on the griddle while the toaster ticked softly and eggs sizzled idly beside pancakes in a long pan. In the oven, muffins and banana bread baked, nearing the end of their timers. The mixed smell of batter and grease woke Mark before his alarm did and drew him into the kitchen where platters of the food began to coat the counter in a thin layer.

Bewildered, he plopped onto the stool by the counter. "What is all this?"

Over one shoulder, Julia peeked back at him with a small smile, tinged with her hope that this might change something. "I just wanted to make your breakfast." Though, when she looked back, Julia didn't see the attentive eyes of her adoring husband but rather a spray of spittle and food bits while he ravaged the spread of breakfast items- though the bacon and ham he strayed from slightly, leaving a singular piece of each while he gorged himself on the other things. Once, although only Julia noticed, while he ate Mark let out a distinctive snort into the muffling factor of buttered toast.

Once the platters were stacked, empty beside the sink and Julia was left in a silent, shocked state at how little was left for her own breakfast, Mark waddled back to the bedroom to dress. Though when he pulled his slacks over his thighs, they were tight and constraining with barely any freedom to move his legs and walk. "I must have put on a few pounds..." Mark mused before he peered down at his thighs and gut with a questioning glare. From the back of the closet, still in a box from moving, Mark fished out a pair of slacks passed down from his father with a rounder waist than he'd ever had and broad holes for the thighs. With a furtive glance over his shoulder, Mark slid into the pants. They fit perfectly.

"Goodbye, dear!" Mark's footsteps echoed down the hall after his words, but when Julia glanced out from her cleaning in the kitchen to wave goodbye, Mark had already fled towards work once again. With a shrug, Julia went back to the long task of cleaning up the remnants of her husband's messy breakfast -- a task that would carry through most of the morning until, halfway across town, Mark toddled into the office restroom to relieve himself.

As the metallic door of the stall swung open, Mark glimpsed not the brilliant white of a freshly cleaned, early morning john but the soft pink of exposed cleavage and the bobbing smile of his young assistant as she pushed her lips to a kiss on his jaw before dropping to her knees like she was on fire and ready to stop, drop, and roll. However, the only thing rolling was her tongue while it flopped out of her mouth and pushed into the small opening of his fly, teasing licking over the fabric of his boxers before deft hands tugged the final button open and wretched his pants downwards.

"Ah, Marion." Mark whimpered, though when the sight of the vixen drooling over the first inch of his shaft hit the back of his mind, he shut his mouth and let her continue. After it was freed, Marion held his shaft gently with one hand while the other dipped back to cup his balls, though she did little with them while her lips parted around the tip, taking him into her mouth with a faint, slutty moan of her own around the firth in her mouth. The verbal sound making both her lips buzz slightly around him-- enough to send a zing shooting down the male's spine. A deep tingling following the burst of pleasure, that Mark wrote off as nothing more than the benefit of a good blowjob.

While Marion continued her sloppy, but effective work over his cock, slurping over the tip before bobbing the entire length into her lips and down the dip of her throat before it gave a light spasmed around his sensitive and she pulled back only to repeat the process again, the faint tingling at his spine continued along with the building pressure of his coming orgasm.

Knowingly, when Mark had tensed as though he was on the brink of orgasm, Marion pulled her lips back from him and instead only held him gently between two fingers on one hand while her other hand dropped to her chest. Slowly, one finger teased along the edge of her shirt, easing it down around her large breast until the orb hung free and naked in the open doored stall. The sight of her, needily groping herself while her tongue returned to lap over his tip like a kitten lapping at the remnant of milk in a saucer, nearly sent Mark over the edge alone though when the playful tongueing of his tip was followed by a bob down over his entire length and a hard, eager suck- he was gone.

A hoarse breath in announced his body tensing up while Marion on the floor squirmed eagerly-- ready when the first shot of cum burst into her mouth to pull back from him and let the second stream hit her face, dribbling down her cheeks and lips till it oozed onto her naked breasts. While his cock spasmed, the tingling of his spine intensified and felt almost explosive- though Mark assumed it was only a part of his orgasm he'd never experienced before and didn't notice the small nub that shot out from his lower back: a thin, pinkish tail that curled beneath his waistband.

When he finished, leaving Marion decorated with oozing globs of jizz, Mark's forehead gleamed with droplets of sweat, but almost with a faint hue of smooth pink as though he was blushing over his entire body. Again, he barely noticed the change and Marion was half blinded by a drip of cum into her eyelashes and stumbled out of the bathroom stall to a sink, just in time to flash a young intern with a cleaning bucket.

Seeing the young, pimple-faced pervert he had met earlier in his own internship, Mark smirked at the boy and gestured towards the stall Marion had left, where smears of the leaked off cum could be seen on the dark tile and the smell of masculine release lingered in one spot like a cheap air freshener spray. "You definitely wanna clean up in there, bud."

Before he noticed the intern's grimace in response, Mark's distracted by a sharp tone from his phone-- alerting him of a recent text message. With one hand, Mark reseals his slacks and with the other he tugs out his phone. "Grandma's sick. I have to leave for a few days." Signed, "xox Julia." Leaning over his shoulder while she buttons her stretched top, Marion grinned like the cheshire cat.

"How perfect, Mark. Now you can show me your home without the wifey around.." She purred into an ear while she rubbed her cheek idly into his shoulder and her breasts ground against his arm.

With his blowjob still fresh in his mind, Mark nodded eagerly. "You're right, Marion. It's just perfect." So perfect in fact, that when the boss informed most of the fifth floor that technical issues were going to give them the rest of the day off, Mark grabbed Marion's hand in a steel-like grasp; together they rushed out of the office to hail a cab and headed home to Mark's cozy apartment.

When the front door to the small apartment broke open it was as though a breath of fresh air had reached Mark's choking brain and his adrenaline faltered for a moment. However, the constant performer, Marion quickly grabbed his attention before it strayed to a place of regret or remorse with a slow sway of her hips while she sashayed her way into the main area of the house where the living room was set up. While her hips kept on their idle dancing, Marion's fingers glided over the back of the couch and along the rough window sill as though she was inspecting the surfaces for dust left behind a poor job of house work. "It's very tidy, seems like your wife is good at cleaning." When she spotted what at first glance appeared to be a stain on the carpeting, Marion bent at the waist, giving Mark a glimpse of the lacy red panties that she wore, though only a hint of the bright hue was visible before she straightened and strode towards the kitchen with Mark's eyes following the motion of her behind.

In the quaint kitchen, Marion peered in the drying rack at the plentiful dishes from breakfast. "Lots of dishes, seems like your wife is good at cooking..." Despite the compliments towards Julia, Marion's face held a smirk when she turned back to face Mark where he stood frozen still by the front door.

"I know something your wife isn't good at though, Mark. Don't I?" Her smile widened while both hand drew forward to the strip of buttons that held her top together. Long, red nails slowly guiding the top button out of its small notch while her eyes watched Mark's face change.

"I know little Julia isn't good at this, being sexy. Your wife isn't sexy like me, is she, Mark?" Like a doll, Mark's head flopped side to side while his adam's apple bobbed nervously in his throat, nervous at the increasing level of nudity the young assistant was reaching when her button-up top fluttered to the ground, leaving behind the matching rouge of her bra- though the thin satin of the shelf-bra did little to contain her bosom.

"That's what I thought." A satisfied grin covered Marion's lips like that of a cat whose captured the mouse. Her fingers reached back to unhook the small clasp of her bra and sent it downwards to join her discarded shirt, both of which were soon followed by the tight skirt that hugged onto her hips when the long zipper on her hip shot downwards and let the fabric fall to the carpeting.

"Do you want me, Mark?" She breathed, as if afraid of breaking the spell that had fallen over the young businessman. When he ferociously nodded his head, a grin broke over her lips and she reached out a hand. "Lead me to the bedroom, boss." When Mark stepped closer and rested a hand on her hip, her body twisted enough to show a glimpse of the letters of her name tattooed over her shoulder in a swirling script. Leaning, Mark drew trembling lips against the inked skin while Marion guided him onto the bed. Her nearly nude body brushed against him, teasing through the fabric of the clothes he still wore. However, the deft fingers that had so easily eased him out of his trousers in the bathroom earlier that day returned while full lips met against his neck, tracing a line of kisses onto his collarbone and chest as each inch was slowly exposed by the removal of his own button-up shirt. Slowly, fingers pressed into the opening of his parted fly and curled around his shaft, surrounding every inch in the soft warmth of her smooth skin. With a deep pant, Mark peered down at his groin, where her hand had pulled him out from his pants and her other hand tugged the fabric down towards his knees where he then shuffled them the rest of the way off himself, catching his socks up in the small kicks that removed his pants and boxers. Teasingly, two fingers rolled around his cock head, making the bundle of nerves they zip and sing against each other in their excitement to deliver the messages of pleasure to his brain while her other hand moved up to cup his balls, gently with a soft caressing thumb tracing down the underside of his shaft while her other hand squeezed gently around him, easing into a temporary rubbing motion over the length as though she planned to jack him off completely.

"Marion.." Mark gasped, watching her work her way down his chest, tracing over his peachy skin with her tongue and lips- a tag team that brought soft, needy whimpers out of the male's lips while her hands snuck back onto her own hips and eased the strings of her skimpy thong downwards over the swell of her ass and peeled the garment off, before tossing it off the side of the bed like a rose into a river, forgotten once it landed.

"Yes?" Both eyes dipped up towards the male before she crawled up his chest once again, kissing his lips with forceful pressure and an adventurous tongue. Her full chest, bare without the discarded bra, pressed into his chest. The small nubs of her hardened nipples jabbed gently into his skin and sent a short jolt of excitement down Mark's spine when he felt the pressure of them against his chest- on his skin.

"I d-don't know what to do.." Mark admitted, and it was true. With his wife, Mark never dealt with this game of seduction and foreplay that Marion was presenting. He'd only ever fallen beneath the covers in the dark and fumbled his way into the warm snatch of the woman. Nervous for her reaction, Mark's fingers twirled the ring around his finger.

Marion grinned and silently pressed herself to Mark, grinding herself into him where he sat, still on his knees. Her rump pressed back, flush against his groin before she dipped her face towards him and snatched the ring from his finger where he'd been spinning it. Her eyes dipped up to him, wide and heavy-lidded like those of the slutty teachers, daughters, or girlfriends in the videos Mark used to watch, alone and locked in his room, with only his hand to calm the burning need of desire that those eyes would bring. So when, playfully, Marion drawled out her question "Are you proposing, silly man?" Mark couldn't contain himself within his nervous reservations any longer and instead thrust his naked hips forward- forcing the assistant's silken, lower lips apart to plunge into her hot sex and sending a rich moan into the air from her lips. The woman trembled once, but then eagerly lifted her rump against his hips, accepting the hard thrusts that rocked her forward on her elbows and into the bed with every rough, needy motion into her. Steadily, Mark pumped himself into her, until a wet squelch accompanied every entry into her through the mixture of pre-cum and feminine juices that dripped out from her tunnel and onto the bed. From behind, with a eager huff into her ears, Mark hunched himself over her back and reached to curl his fingers around the swaying orbs of her breasts. Her hard, pert nipples grazed his fingers and guided him into small, inexperienced pinching that drew squeaking whimpers from the assistant beneath him- each hard thrust into her now completed with a small tug on her breasts in his hands, groping excitedly.

Suddenly, while Mark threw himself into yet another thrust forward into a panting Marion, whose fists were balled on the comforter of the bed with the ring glinting in the light of the bedroom around her finger, the door of the bedroom slowly swung open to reveal Julia, both hands on her hips and her lips drawn in a hard line. The instant she entered, the final change was triggered. From where his tail had grown, unbeknownst to him earlier, Mark's body rippled with change. Where the hue of his skin had been a subtle pinkish-peach it now gleamed with the fresh, eraser-pink of a piglet from his lower back upwards till his the visible tip of his nose pinkened in front of her crossed eyes. While the color spread, his backside tickled with the sprouting hairs that littered a boar's thick skin. However, the least noticeable change to Julia was the most noticeable to Marion when buried deep within her sex, the cock lodged within her curled with the signature corkscrew ship of the pig breed. The sudden sensation inside her drew out a weak moan, followed by a whimper of confusion. While Marion shuddered around the twisting length of Mark's changing shaft, Julia watched while his nose protruded from his face and lengthened and his body shortened, though it stayed as round and plump as he'd been following his large breakfast that morning. On the comforter of the bed, where bare toes had curled in pleasure against the fabric and held him steadily in place before, smooth hooves now slipped and gave his thrusts an unstable wobble. The thick, clumsy hooves that transformed from the hands before groping on Marion's ample chest dropped down and slapped into her thighs before Mark curled them to hook against her and act as a hook to hold his hips against her, ensuring his rutting could continue. Atop his head, the hair thinned to a sparse covering and triangular ears shot upwards with the small fold at the tip that made them flop with every hard thrust into Marion's hips that sent a smack into the air of the room and ground the curl of his tip against the wall protecting her womb from him. As though oblivious, Mark continued unphased in his rutting, lost already to the mindless fucking of an animal.

Enraged by the sight, Julia threw up both hands beside her head. "You cheated on me after all I did for you. You're a worthless husband!" Though a short pause followed the outburst while a pleased grin spread over her lips and she strode to the edge of the bed. "But don't worry, my dear. This time you can help me fulfill *my* dreams." Her eyes lowered down to where Mark's pink ass shook with each hard push forward into the shock-silenced assistant and a hand lifted to smack roughly onto the flesh sending ripples over the plump buttocks. "There are truly first rate! You'll do just fine..."

Suddenly aware of the danger, Marion's voice rang out shrilly in the bedroom, rimmed with the sudden terror she felt building, along with the swelling of Mark's cock, bordering on his own orgasm with mindless obliviousness to Julia's plans. "What? What are you doing?" Marion's voice cracked with fear while it echoed out into the room. "I didn't marry him! Let me go! I-I'll forget everything that's happened here!" Julia only grinned and pointed to the hand that had worn the stolen ring where the gleaming black of a hoof had already taken place and the gleaming pink skin of a sow spread upwards towards her tattooed shoulder. On top of the sheets of the bed, the ring, with its job completed, bounced idly with the wobbling of the bed from each hard thrust."What will you-" A sharp grunt interrupted her words, "do with us?"

Before Julia responded, she paused to take in the sight before her. Her cheating husband had fully transformed already from a human into the body and mindset of a boar. His gut hung low towards the bed and rested flush against the pink, growing backside of his mistress. Both his hands and feet had morphed into dark hooves, with small indents as the only toes he would have have following the transformation. His skin, no longer the fleshy peach of a human, was a warm pink speckled over with the brown and black hues of a mixed breed pig and covered lightly with short, coarse hairs that ground into Marion's skin and pricked at her lightly with every grind against her. Atop his head, ears bobbed and slapped against his forehead and temples and both eyes settled forward, lost in the task of rutting and breeding the fertile woman he was hunched over, attached at the hip with his forked hooves. His fertile woman was only halfway through her own transformation, with her arms a bright pink while her hands morphed into dark hooves. Her hair remained on her head, though it was steadily shortening to be replaced with oversized triangular ears that flopped madly with every thrust into her rosy sex. Down her own chest, her ample bosom was joined by a collection of freshly added nipples- the start of additional teats to feed young piglets. Piglets that would come once Mark locked himself to her harder, thrust as deep as his elongated boar cock would reach, and held the panting, whimpering woman steady while his corkscrew tip jumped inside her and spat out his seed, string after string entering her womb, fertile as a breeding sow while the male only grunted with satisfaction. A sound that brought a full grin over Julia's lips and reminded her to respond to Marion's question before she lost her coherent thought completely to the transformation taking over.

"Well, my dear, I'm going to do what people do with boars and sows..."

Epilogue

"Casa Monta wins 50K First Prize in Culinary Battle!" Announced the front page of the Noxford newspaper, with a large picture of a oversized check in the hands of a grainy, unidentifiable woman. With his interest piqued, the young reader of the paper laid its pages down onto the smooth table top of the coffee shop he'd stopped at on his way through the small town on an idle vacation through the peaceful countryside he'd always prefered to the busy city-life he was exposed to in most of his career. Originally, he'd planned to eat a simple muffin from the display inside the cafe, but the paper had birthed a level of curiosity for the bed and breakfast that had won such an award. So, he dropped a large bill onto the table, plenty to cover his simple coffee and the newspaper he enjoyed and excused himself to make his way to Casa Monta.

As he reached the gated entrance to the infamous bed and breakfast, a large yard caught his attention with a splotch of soil not far from the entrance, inhabited by a plump, pregnant sow surrounded by a crop of piglets around her, tugging at her swollen teats and idly resting in the dirt beneath them that clung to skin and hairs alike while their mother rested on her side, seemingly asleep. Normally, the young man, Matthew, never would have paid such mind to a pig, let alone an oversized, motionless mother if not for the stretched lettering over her upper leg and onto her back that appeared to read "Marion."

"What a strange form of animal cruelty..." He thought to himself before he idly pondered what reasoning one could have to tattoo their pig, though perhaps she was the prize breeder and it was some form of identifying her. Nonetheless, he thought it to be unnecessary animal cruelty.

Pushing his early judgements aside, he continued up the cobblestone walk from the parking lots, edged by bright flowers that bloomed in a tidy border to the pathway. Near the door, a littering of rich, smooth wood benches and tables were scattered over a plush blanket of grass. One of the tables housed an elderly woman, nibbling on a slice of ham and occasionally dropped a chunk down to an unleashed dog at her side, the creature's tail wagging rapidly in a sign of pure adoration- either for the woman or for the ham. When he passed, the woman lifted a hand in friendly greeting and Matthew saw the glint of a wedding band on her finger and for a moment, he wondered where her husband was. Bypassing the outside seating and the company of the woman and her dog, Matthew entered the welcoming establishment with a soft ting of a bell over the door. Summoned by the sound, a young woman appeared out of a swinging half door from which the sizzling of bacon and the sweet scent of baked goods wafted outwards.

"Why good morning. You looking for a table or a room?" She greeted, a broad smile on her face, while Matthew glanced at the small name tag attached to her shirt reading "Julia."

Instantly, Matthew returned her smile and nodded towards the well populated dining area where conversation drifted out like a faint melody from a radio left on. "I'd like a table. I heard, or rather read, good things about this place and I'm excited to try it for myself."

A soft laugh left the woman's lips and she pulled a menu from a slot on the wall and nodded for him to follow her into the seating area. "That newspaper article right? I never thought I would see myself on the front page after I graduated from this town. As small as it is, I didn't expect to be newsworthy again."

While sliding into the offered two-chair table, Matthew nodded, "So you grew up around here as well? Didn't just pluck it randomly off the map and start driving till you found a suitable pig to butcher?"

Julia chuckled faintly beneath her breath at his description, though Matthew didn't follow why. "Nah, I grew up just down the street from here. This was my grandmother's house, but she gifted it to me after my-" She paused, as though considering the correct word choice for her following statement, "separation from my husband, ex-husband now I suppose."

Surprised, Matthew leaned towards her, intrigued by the information that'd she'd offered both in that there seemed to be a story behind it, there often times was when a couple broke apart, but also in that the pretty, young woman would be single. He didn't believe he'd get that lucky, even on this vacation. "Now there's got to be a story behind that.." He hinted, smiling up at her where she hooked both thumbs into the strings of her apron and grinned back, confident.

"There is, but by the time I finish we might be out of meat for the day so why don't I take your order, freshen up my coffee cup and then I'll tell ya?"

Matthew grinned and then nodded, "Sure thing, what should I order? You're the expert opinion on the matter."

Julia chuckled again, her same airy giggle before she pointed to a chalkboard near the entrance to the kitchen with the scrawling script: "Daily plate, the best cuts and lots of butts- $12.00" She hooked a crooked grin at him before adding, "It's got the most bacon, hence the butt joke."

Matthew shared in her grin and ordered the plate which sent Julia towards the kitchen to plug in the order and gave her a moment to assist the other tables, though most seemed to still be working on their own plates piled high with meat and garnished with pancakes and fruit that practically spilled off the edge of the various plates. While he waited, Matthew glanced at the walls of the restaurant, examining the snapshots of smiling family and various pigs of the farm, most photographed surrounded with milking piglets.

When she returned with the platter of breakfast; a bed of pancakes topped with sleeping sausage children curled besides strips of bacon body pillows that rested beneath a blanketing of melted butter. "Here ya are. There's a emergency room up the block when the cardiac arrest hits."

Matthew laughed good naturedly while he took the plate and Julia took the seat across from him on the table and leaned onto her elbows. "So , you really wanna hear my story?" At the question, Matthew nodded while he scooped sausage and pancake fluff into his mouth. "Well, it started when I married Mark Coblin...married him really young..." Julia fell into the familiar story of getting married, moving into the city, and being cheated on, though she left out the details of her own revenge on them. "After everything with Mark was dealt with, I moved back home where I always wanted to be in the first place and got working with people, here. My grandma gave me the place and we just threw it open and soon enough people loved it, showed up everyday, brought their families. It was amazing to see it all happen so fast! Then that award...well I was able to really expand with that. It's made this all possible." She smiled when she finished, but Matthew lingered on the harsh past that had brought her to her final destination.

"What a waste of time giving up your life for a miserable husband like that!"

Julia smiled at him and slowly shook her head before she shrugged slightly, "Well, one thing I can say. He at least made good bacon."