M. K. S. & The No

Clandestine Brothers - Part III

Please read also, Clandestine Brothers, Part II & Part IV

Monday 9:30am

"CLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, baby are you home?" Margaret K. Simmons, returning home from shopping and taking the kids to school, already knew the answer to her question. Every curtain in the house was closed, the pungent aroma of incense widened her nostrils and Gato Barbieri's "Caliente", trumpeting from the stereo, seemed to raise the room temperature ten degrees. A sudden sense of deja vu and anticipation overtook her causing her heart to race.

With a knowing push, she opened the door to her bedroom. There, she found Clee lying on the bed and presenting her with no more than the stark reality of his manhood. "Hey baaaby", Clee said as he rose from the bed and surrounded her with his arms. Her response was muted by his kiss. A kiss so deep and so wide and so long - with all of the intentions of making her forget every other kiss she'd received in her life. As their lips parted, there was an imperceptible buckling of her knees. But Clee was in the flow and he could sense what she felt and what she felt were emotions of indescribable heights.

By now, Clee was also raising the hem line of her skirt to indescribable heights. "No baby", she pleaded, "its the middle of the day, what if someone comes to the door." "Well if its a brother then he's just out of luck and if its a woman, she'll just have to wait her turn", he said with a slight chuckle. "Clee you're being bad" she chided. "Oh you ain't seen bad yet" he replied. "Oh my Clee! Where are your fingers?" she panted, half begging for mercy. "Where are your panties?" , he whispered in her ear in a raspy voice. All forms of pretense were now abandoned. There was no more talking, at least not of a coherent nature.

Clee was exhausted. At almost 40 years of age, he had been missing in action on occasion but never with Maragret. Margaret knew it and used it to her advantage over the years for the fulfillment of her womanly desires. She began kissing him above the left knee and then asked, "Clee why did you put your tattoo so close to the balzac?"... (Six months ago, Clee and Margaret became inebriated while celebrating their tenth anniversary. On a whim they decided to cruise downtown and get tattoos. Margaret had a simple tear drop placed on her left breast. Clee had the words "The No" in fancy script placed high on his left thigh.)... Clee responded, "I put it near the most emotional part of my body because "The No" is usually invoked at the most intensely emotional times. It has hardly any literal meaning but is used with great urgency, swiftness and frequency and is forgotten almost as soon as it is spoken. You used it today yourself, remember?" ... Silence... Clee again, "Margaret?" ... "Shhhhh", she buzzed.

Clee's body lurches and stiffens as Margaret , with "The No" pressed against her right cheek, begins elevating his emotions in a tasteful manner. He is so racked with passion that he cannot gather a single thought. And so it seems that the physical and emotional circumstances of the moment have rendered both lovers incapable of verbally expressing what is in their hearts. But this is how it should be, the security of the strength of their marriage will continue to afford them many moments of heart felt discussion in the future.

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Copyright © 1996 Thomas E. Smith All Rights Reserved This Page Last Revised: March 3, 1996