"I don't want you to just fuck and run, like every other goddamn man in my life!!" Rebecca howls. Oh great, the tears now. What had he done? He wasn't the type to cum n go, squirt and split.
    "How could you say that to me?!?!" Greg says, astounded, "After everything we've been through together?"
    Unconsciously, Greg runs his hand along the old GSW wound on his neck. The flesh along the center of the groove is shiny pink, forever glossy in Greg's skin.  Rebecca's eyes are nailed to that scar. She remembers all too vividly.
    "I'm not a ladies man, in case you hadn't noticed, Reb. And I'm not your ex-husband. What's his name, anyway?"
    "Whose name?" Rebecca asks.
    "Your ex-husband? What's his name? His first name, anyway?"
    "I don't want to talk about him. He's nothing to me now."
    "I know that, but still. What's his name?"
    "Luke, okay? His name is Luke."
    Greg murmurs to himself. Luke is a biblical name. How ironic that Luke's character turned out to more closely resemble Judas Iscariot.
    "I'm not Luke," Greg says with finality. That seems to end it. Greg will not pursue her tonight. He will back off. He is graced with her company and that is more than enough, in of itself.
    "I love you, Rebecca. And I think we're just blowing this way outta proportion. We can just like, snuggle tonight, and watch a movie. That's fine. I'd be more than happy to just chillax with you."
    She is satisfied by this. She gets geeky again as she starts naming off the movies they can watch.
    She picks out a chick flick. Greg inwardly groans. It's the kind of movie he sees walking by the theater showing times, and skips right past it. But he supposed now that he had a chick, Greg should take a hit and watch the shitty, poorly-written, cliche, and unbelievable story.
    The main character was hot. That's about all Greg could gather from the plot. The girl wanted a career, or something. She was a office assistant, or manager. Something like that. Greg could hardly sympathize with her. The writer of the movie must've been a woman. The plot was haphazard, and at points seemed like a different film altogether, just stitched up from separate pieces. There was too much drama about everything. The girl in the film at one point broke her heel while walking in a plaza. The woman freaks out and just sits there crying and sulking. Then, a tall dark gentleman extends his hand and picks her back up to her feet. The guy then dotes on her, fixing her shoe and carrying her shopping bags for her.
    First of all, you don't give a stranger your purchases to carry. They'll probably just run off with it. And with those stupid little shoes she had on, there was no way she was gonna catch him. Secondly, this chick was really high maintenance. If she freaked out at something as unimportant as a broken shoe, imagine how she would react if someone held her at gunpoint. Rebecca was made of sterner stuff than this Hollywood Broad, and he feels a tinge of pride. Greg really landed a goodie when he met Rebecca.
    Greg's attention was piqued only by the love scene. The movie was rated R and the chick did a risque couple of poses. She showed her boobs, and even did a full-frontal, followed by fake coitus. What a slut. Imagine? Banging some guy for fixing a shoe? If that happened all the time, Greg would become a full-time ladies shoe salesman. Al Bundy incarnate.
    Rebecca knew the love scene was in there. It's why she chose the movie. She knew the sex scene was completely out of left field, and shows up outta nowhere. She can sense Greg's sudden interest in the film. As the two actors make simulated love, she feels him harden against her leg. She wanted to remind him of the control she could have. It was petty, but she did it nonetheless.
    That night he texted he wouldn't be coming over, she felt discouraged. She felt unwanted. She had gone to great effort to set up her spontaneous photoshoot. She had been shopping, looking for an outfit for Greg, when she meandered over to the girl's section. Being so petite, Rebecca found that given the right pair, a teen's panties could fit her well. The Joe Boxer logo had grinned out at her, as if daring her to buy it. It spoke of wildness and disregard, both of which Rebecca hadn't felt brazen enough to attempt since meeting Greg. She looked at the tag. $20 for the set. That convinced her. She felt like a scorching babe as she placed the undergarments onto the counter.
    "Looks like your boyfriend is gonna get quite the entertainment tonight," the perky saleswoman says jokingly.
    "can't beat it, for $20," Rebecca says coyly, then, "he'll get a lot more enjoyment out of it than I will." she added quickly.
    The women share a laugh. The girl is cute. Her blonde swirls of hair rise tornadically to the epicenter of her hair clip. The black glasses the woman wears have rimless lenses. Rebecca is not a lesbian, but she can certainly appreciate the beauty of females. In her party days, many was the time when Rebecca got a bit shit-faced and made out with her fellow sex. The farthest it got was titty play, and Rebecca refused to go further. Cunnilingus was the line. Experimentation ended there and Rebecca didn't want to play for that team.     The other girl at that party was a willing participant, and wanted to continue, but Rebecca remembered looking around at all the dazed, intoxicated looks of frat boys with their cell cameras out. Rebecca had not exposed her breasts, thank god, but she had done some improvised nursing with the chick. Who knows if that video would ever surface online? since that time, her promiscuity diminished. The belly button ring came out. So did the tongue stud. She kept the thongs, but the pants she wore no longer hung low enough to show her undies. She wanted only one man to know what lingerie she had on underneath her clothes, the one she ultimately chose. The desire to settle down had begun. Then she had met Luke. And they went steady for years, right up past marriage, through child-birth, straight into divorce.
    Rebecca was giddy. Her emotions are upswinging again, as the menses fades from it's gout of red. She had a pad in now. It was really more of a precaution than anything. She had checked it at lunch and there was a noticeable blotch, but nothing really heavy. The center was more soaked than the outer portion, looking like a red ink blot bullseye. The smaller, darker stain confirmed her flow was shrinking, the prior uterus depleted. Time for her body to switch in for a new one. She was so sex-deprived that she would be willing to try screwing, bloody minge or not.
    She even went online to look up ways to get better lighting in photographs with a cell cam. She went with the bathroom because the light fixture was the brightest in the house. In all, she had taken somewhere in the neighborhood of 20 pictures. There were many more pics she had taken, but not sent. She got a little carried away after she took the pic with her panties pulled down. Her toy had gotten in on the action after that, and although it was hard to take pics when thusly involved, she had managed to do so. But Rebecca was having second thoughts. Maybe she should just delete all the pics. Greg would never get to see contraptions protruding from her privates. Or would he? She hadn't decided yet. For now, the unending tease was his punishment. The fate of the scandalous pictures would be mitigated later.
    She had felt like she was on the cusp of some wild, insane monkey love with Greg. And he had just basically shrugged his shoulders and said 'Meh'.
She had sat on her bed, one hand trailing the spot where he should be sleeping. She felt so depressed by the failed booty call. Maybe she wasn't so hot to trot. She curled into a fetal position and cried, the blankets wrapping her like a weeping burrito. She went to bed without his hand resting between her thighs, keeping both warm. She felt so cold without his body heat near her. He was her savior. She couldn't bear to be absent from him. She had swallowed his seed, and would let another ovule harvest within her. She could be the mother of his children. Their new offspring, latest family tie.
    But he had rejected her, and she was rejecting him now. His cock flared against her ass, and it made her so wet. But she kept batting his hand away from her breast, her crotch, anything. It was it's own sort of game, this refusal. The more she resisted his attempts, the more that dampness spread. He couldn't have her. Not tonight. His nut would grow to gargantuan intensity when they actually did fulfill their wants.
    Greg retreated to the bathroom. He couldn't stand this. Okay, he would back off, but needed some satisfaction. He scanned Rebecca's bathroom for a magazine, something girly. He found nothing. She had books of poetry and philosophy. Good toilet reads, but not arousing. Pictures of Julie and Rebecca lined the shelves of her bathroom vanity. Greg turned away from Julie's pictures. He didn't want to see that. He wanted to see rebecca by herself.
    Bingo. A tall vertical pic of Rebecca in a skimpy bikini. Its evidently a vacation photo. Greg sits it on the bathroom counter and kneels before the toilet. He uses a handful of Antibacterial soap by her sink faucet. It works for the purpose, but he hurries to finish before it builds up lather and starts to sting. Laying upon the cool porcelain rim feels great to the underside of his junk. Her toilet is much cleaner than his own. It would be, considering there is no projectile piss being spewed from any male organs here. No need for tissue, he'll just shoot it into the bowl. He's about to do so when Rebecca knocks.
    "Are you okay in there?" She asks snoopily, "Did you fall in?"
"Huh, I'll be out in a second!!" Greg says, hearing how flustered he sounds to his own ears.
    "What are you doing in there?" she asks quizzically
    "I'm taking a dump," Greg says hastily, and flushes the toilet for effect.
    "Okay, hurry up, I paused the movie," she says, her voice trailing away as she leaves.
    Dammit. He didn't want to watch this stupid movie. She is prolonging the finishing of both the cinema and his gratification.
    Afterward, he sluggishly walks down the stairs. His legs are weak, and he nearly trips headlong down the stairs on one of Julie's toy hairdryers. Rebecca sits with a pillow huddled to her chest, yet another sign she was being difficult. Her steady blue eyes follow his UN-steady walking. His face is red from the recent effort. He timbers over behind her, resuming his spot. He hopes she will let it slide, even if she does notice.
"did you jerk off in my bathroom?" she asks directly.
Greg is silent.
"Greg?!?"
    Men are dogs. This particular pooch was caught, and was being scolded.
"Yes," he says ashamedly.
    There is silence. He waits for the tirade of how men are pigs, men only think about this, men, men, men, na na na na na. He sees only the side of her face, unable to read her expression.
    "You didn't make a mess, did you?"
"No," he says shyly.
"Good." she says.
    Greg can now think and function normally. He's limp beside her now, kinda sleepy, but not just tired. His package is calm now. They fall asleep hallway through the snooze-fest. Greg saw the main actress' fully unclothed, and that was all that focused him. In truth, it was the same for Rebecca too. It was just something to past the time, and retaliate against Greg a bit. Just a small volley, to set the rules of their engagement. She couldn't stay piped up about everything.
    Rebecca woke him. "C'mon Greg, come to bed with me."
    Greg laid his duffle bag at the bedside, for easy access in the morning. He planned to change once the alarm went off, then go straight to the Pawn and Payday.
    Rebecca unzipped her denim dress and it collapsed about her ankles. She had on an innocent looking pair of white brief undies. There were shapes on them, and Greg had to lean and squint to make them out. Teddies. Teddy Bears, all playful and fluffy looking. Jim Morrison's dazed expression continued, even as she slipped the shirt up over her head. The bra didn't match. It was red, and looked like a spry rubber band, stretched across her back. With a casual motion, well-learned from her feminine years since she acquired breasts, Rebecca unsnapped the bra. She knew he was staring hungrily at her. Too bad. She turned purposefully, and tossed the bra to the floor. The side of her breast shook, but the nipple did not come into view. Greg knew the game now. She was exercising her right to deny. He must remember this. She opens her bureau and selects a long night gown, ruffles and all. She dumps it over her head, worming her way through the armholes. The nightgown is both prudish and tempting at the same time. It is part of Rebecca's cruel and unusual punishment routine.
    She allowed him to spoon with her. If she had denied their embrace, she might not be able to rest properly. She was becoming acclimated to their sleeping position. It took a few nights of tossing and turning to determine their permanent poses. At first, they had laid face-to-face, but that grew too hot because of their combined breaths. Rebecca was usually a back-sleeper, as was Greg. But their REM motions synchronized with their side-sleep. Her muffled snores indicated she was delving into her subconscious before him.

LINK TO PART 78: http://www.ebaumsworld.com/blogs/view/82585346/