Meeting Marla

Marla meets us at the door; Jefferson kisses her hello. I am greeted with a big smile and a kiss. She leads us back into the restaurant, where her new boyfriend awaits, and where they are serving free wine at the bar and pizza fresh from the brick oven.

Marla’s new boyfriend is hot. Introductions are made, and he excuses himself to make his way around the restaurant. He is involved with the event that's going on. We comment on how cute he is, and how sweet on Marla he seems. The girl is definitely happy.

Jefferson stands with Marla at the bar getting our drinks and sends me scrambling for slices as they come out. All I have to do is turn around, since we are standing right next to the oven. I am prepared now for my service in Hell. It is so fucking hot, and I am sweating buckets.

I am reaching over other patrons lined up to grab their slices. I drop cheese onto my foot. I turn to Jefferson and Marla, handing them each a plate. Jefferson and I have not eaten all day. I dive into my mushroom pizza and take stock of my surroundings.

Jefferson has described Marla perfectly in his blog. She is tanned and very pretty, with long wavy hair streaked with blonde and red. She has a great ass accentuated by perfectly fitting jeans, and fabulous tits made even more fabulous by her halter top. I'm a little in awe.

Marla asks me a question and, as I am responding, leans in closer to me. She takes her finger and pulls the neck of my shirt toward my shoulder. She looks up at me, her eyes gleaming.

“That’s some bite.”

I look at Jefferson, smiling. I told him she’d notice the bruise just above my collarbone.

“By the way, Marla, I wanted to thank you. For, you know, introducing Jefferson to rough sex.”

“Oh, my God. It’s the best, right?! Have you always liked it? Do you have any more marks?”

"Well, yes, let's see...on my arms here, my tits, some bruises on my ass and a few caning marks."

Marla beams at Jefferson.

"Good to know you're working on your repertoire."

The conversation turns quickly to this topic, and we move toward the door, the stifling heat of the pizza oven finally getting the better of us. Marla goes to check in with her boyfriend, and then comes back to the cool doorway.

Marla tells us of the first time she kissed her boyfriend, when they were dancing, and he pushed her up against the wall, a hand on her throat.

“I was like, ‘Oh, my GOD!’ I was so excited I called Jefferson and said, ‘He’s a choker!!’”

Except that Marla is from Brooklyn. So it was more like, "Oh, my GOAHD! He’s a CHOkah!”

We laugh.

She says that he is a natural at the rough stuff, but could use a little work; his sweet nature taking over occasionally. He recently asked her to give him a blowjob. Like this: “Would you please suck my cock?”

She continues, "When what I really wanted to hear was, "

and we say it together:

“Suck my cock, bitch!”

Marla, Jefferson and I laugh hysterically, loud enough so that the G. Gordon Liddy look-alike standing near the door knows exactly what we were talking about.

There we were--two kindred spirits. One from the heart of Brooklyn, another from the heart of America. And Jefferson between us, smiling and nodding.

The place was so hot, so crowded, and Marla wanted to return to her boyfriend. Jefferson and I decided to head back into the cool night air.

We turned to leave.

“So, you guys going home now to fuck?”

We smiled at each other, then at Marla.

The next morning we woke up, blinking and stretching. Jefferson turned to me, a look of amazement in his eyes...

"What was IN that pizza, anyway?!"

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