The Story of Mallory Ch. 01

Mallory gingerly turned the key in the lock, glancing over her shoulder as she heard her neighbor call out, "Welcome back, Mal!" She waved hello to him without saying anything, usually happy to chat, but today she was too exhausted having just returned from a 7-day Mexican cruise. The sun, fun, and booze, not to mention all of the men, was more than she could take; after her recent separation, she was mentally and physically exhausted.

She dragged the two huge suitcases into her apartment slamming the door harder than she intended to on the world behind her. Normally thrilled to be alone, suddenly it occurred to her she was lonelier than she had been in a very long time. She sat down on the couch, looked around the living room, letting the past year of her life just wash over. She was buried with an avalanche of emotions as she realized just how much she had been through in the last year.

As she sat there reliving what her life had been like, it played through her mind like a miniature cartoon flip book running through in slow motion, the kind she used to love as a child. She could remember one she had that had Wile E. Coyote and the Roadrunner with Acme Dynamite, exploding cactus, and teetering rocks; her life the past year was much the same, starring her soon to be ex-husband as the coyote, her as the roadrunner, with love being the dynamite, work the exploding cactus, and their relationship as the teetering rocks.

They had separated six months ago when she finally left him citing irreconcilable differences and she had taken her own apartment. What she should have said, if she were being completely honest, was he was one hundred percent so unlike she was and they never should have married in the first place, but she was young, dumb, vulnerable, and lonely. Now, she was too polite to say so. So it was easier to say they had simply grown apart and work had changed her and she was merely growing in a way he had not, so she was moving on in a different way. More like it was time for her to move on without him.

The rest of her year was as uninspiring as her personal relationship with her husband; her parents had been killed in an accident and, as an only child, she had nowhere to turn for comfort. Her husband had done little for her in terms of being there for her when they were killed, his response was simply, "It did not seem like you were ever very close anyway. It should not be hard for you to get over them." She thought about his comments for a moment as she got up to make a cup of tea. He wouldn't even know if she had been attached to them or not, he was not very intimate with her, so he how could he have known with whom she had a connection.

Oh well, she thought to herself, I am on my own now so I am not interested in what he thinks anymore. Besides, she thought to herself, I have all my boys here... Fanch LeDan, Peter Max, Thomas Rutt, Romero, Britto, and last but not least, Fabien Perez. It is kind of a lonely existence, thinking of paintings as "my boys", but they were gorgeous, paintings she had only dreamed of when she was with her ex, but now they were beautifully decorating her tiny apartment. She felt like she lived in the world's smallest private art gallery, as she walked around looking at the stunning pieces she had accumulated over the past several months.

Mallory sat down on the couch with her tea, exhausted as she thought about the task ahead of her, unpacking her luggage from her weeklong Mexican vacation. She had packed far too many clothes, as she always did, and had exceeded her vacation budget by three times what she had expected by going to the art auction and buying another nude by Thomas Rutt to hang on the already over-crowded walls of her bedroom.

However, she rationalized; she had to go to the auction if for no other reason but to get the chance to meet the sexy auctioneer. Of course, her plan worked, by the second day of the cruise, she was in his cabin, dress in a heap on the floor; she found out very quickly exactly what was up for bid for the rest of the cruise. But, as is typical for Mallory, she lost interest after one interlude and she had to avoid him for the rest of the cruise.

She kept herself busy with the rest of the passengers and crew, though; after being in an almost sexless marriage for the past three years, Mallory was not about to let one opportunity slip by her while she was on the first vacation she had ever taken alone, especially when there was no chance she would ever see any of these men again... and even that one woman.

Mallory looked over at the suitcases and thought about unpacking them, it would be a daunting task, hanging up every dress she did not wear, laundering the ones she did, refolding the clothing she tried on and opted not to wear... she sighed, she simply did not have the energy or desire to unpack right now; besides she had other things on her mind currently, mainly memories of her trysts from the cruise. She arose from the couch and went to her bedroom, thinking a nap might refresh her and give her the needed strength to finish her chores for the afternoon.

She undressed completely and got between the sheets of her bed. It felt good to be home in her own bed. She relaxed her head on the pillow and instinctively put her hand between her legs and slowly began to rub as she thought about her days on the cruise and each one of her lovers... how they felt, how they tasted, how they smelled. Her eyes closed as she slowly caressed the soft folds between her legs feeling herself grow wetter as she thought first of the night with the auctioneer, how she knelt on the floor of his cabin and sucked his cock mindlessly but could not stop thinking about what a deal she could get on a painting, and how she almost let out a giggle.

Then she slipped a finger inside herself as she thought about the next day as she spent the day flirting with the young man she met from Canada, she could not even remember his name, but she had such an incredible day with him; they went snorkeling in Mazatlan, he told her all about his family, his life, he acted like he was falling in love; but they drank all day, had wild and crazy sex in his cabin all night. She slipped in another finger, two fingers, slowly moving in and out, in and out, she could feel her juices flowing freely as she remembered him, how strong and virile he was when he took her, fucking her so roughly, so passionately. Then, she remembered him looking for her the next day, other passengers telling her, but she avoided him, as she had already moved on.

The next day, she met a couple, she spent all day with them, playing cards on deck and drinking margaritas. It seemed almost innocuous at first, until the afternoon when they invited her back to their cabin and she accepted. The second they closed the cabin door there was no question what the afternoon held in store for them, and Mallory did not question it. She surprised even herself as she shed her clothes as quickly as they did and accepted kisses and touches from the woman, she was even more surprised when she reciprocated. She touched the woman, kissed her, licked her, all while her husband watched, and joined in when he felt it was appropriate.

Mallory was touching herself in a frenzy now as she thought about that day, the memories almost overwhelming her as she thought about the woman's fingers between her legs instead of her own. She had never been with a woman before, and the soft touch of her fingers brought her to a climax so quickly, so beautifully, Mallory was almost near tears. It was such an emotional experience and when the afternoon was over, she was drained.

She continued to finger herself, thinking of the woman and her husband; she brought her wet fingers to her mouth, tasting them, licking them, thinking of the other woman, wondering when she might taste another woman again, pondering whether or not it was something she would ever do again anyway, or if it was just "vacation Mallory".

Close to climaxing, she thought of the bartender she met the night his shift was just about to end, and how she brazenly fucked him on top of the bar one night. She remembered how she sat on the bar and any other passenger or crew member could have come in at any time and seen them. She furiously slid her fingers in and out of her swollen pussy, over her hardened clit, so close to climaxing, with her free hand, she pinched and twisted her nipples remembering the way the bartender had reached down at one point and had sucked hard on one of them; finally, she came.

The release was not near as good as it had been when she was on the cruise and with somebody else. She felt a little empty and alone as she looked around the room and realized she was alone. But then again, she thought, the release she felt on vacation was over very quickly as well. The second it was over she needed it again immediately, and from somebody else, as if she was never fulfilled. Something was missing in her life; she just did not know what.