Terri had always hated motorway driving, especially at night; the small area of visibility and the speed unnerved her. An argument at the same time was more than she could cope with, especially when the argument was with Marilyn. One of the reasons she didn’t want to argue with Marilyn at the moment was because they were going on holiday, but also it was because of what arguing with Marilyn did to her. She didn’t understand why but arguing with Marilyn never failed to arouse her sexually – and she couldn’t afford to get aroused while she was driving on the motorway.
“I don’t know what possessed me to agree to coming away,” Marilyn said. “You know I don’t get on with your friend.”
“You couldn’t wish to meet a nicer woman than Annie, and after the last time I would have thought you’d want show yourself to be a bit nicer as well.”
“You thought wrong.”
Terri dug her fingers into the leather covering of the steering wheel. She had gone to a lot of trouble to arrange for them to stay in a cottage next door to her friend Annie. And although she was looking forward to the holiday – to seeing Annie and to spending time with Marilyn – she was nervous about those two meeting again; it had been such a disaster the first time. Unless Marilyn’s mood improved before they arrived it would be equally bad this time. Marilyn had been behaving like a spoilt brat ever since they had set out. And just to confuse everything, arguing with her was making Terri feel damp.
“You know how much my back hurts without my cushion,” Marilyn continued. “You’ve no consideration, that’s your trouble.”
Terri couldn’t believe that, after all she had done to put the holiday together, Marilyn was bitching about a cushion. A bloody cushion! She told her that if the cushion was so important she should have put it in the car herself, instead of leaving everything to her. But although she was furious at Marilyn for complaining, her fingers were digging into the steering wheel as much in an attempt to control the unwanted sexual arousal as much as her anger.
“It wouldn’t have been difficult to put it in the car with everything else. Or maybe you like the idea of me being in pain? Maybe it satisfies some sadistic urge in you, is that it?”
“For God’s sake, Lyn, I forgot your stupid cushion. It’s not the end of the world.”
“Well, thank you for caring.”
Terri glanced sideways and saw that Marilyn’s pretty face was distorted by her petulance. She felt like pushing her out of the car. All she had to do was lean over and open the door, depress the catch on Marilyn’s seat belt and give her a shove. She could tell the police that Marilyn had committed suicide while the balance of her mind was disturbed by a cushion. She couldn’t help smiling at the thought.
“Oh, so now you think it’s funny?” Marilyn snapped.
“No, of course not. Please, Lyn, let’s not have an argument.”
“It’s a bit late for that. It’s no use going out of your way to upset me and then saying let’s not have an argument. Pull into the next service area, I need a cigarette.”
“I thought you’d agreed to stop.”
“If you didn’t make my life so stressful I might have half a chance.”
“Come on, you can’t give up at the first hurdle.”
“Just pull in at the next service area and stop disagreeing with everything I say.”
Terri half-wanted to say something to ease the tension; but at the same time she didn’t see why she should. She wasn’t the one who was in a foul mood.
“Okay, buy some bloody cigarettes, see if I care. Have stinking breath and diseased lungs, it’s your choice. I’m not going to argue.”
She immediately regretted having said that. She wondered whether she was deliberately trying to provoke and prolong the argument so that she would get aroused? No, she couldn’t believe that. Why was she even thinking it? It was Marilyn, not her – Marilyn was the one who was being difficult.
At the start of their relationship, Terri had been impressed by Marilyn’s cool independence – Terri was of an age when she no longer wanted a partner who would cling – but the cool independence seemed to have turned into selfishness.
“Oh, no, of course, it’s never you, is it? You’re not the one who argues? It’s always my fault!”
Terri refused to respond. She tried to distance herself from the bad vibrations in the car by recalling earlier, more pleasant days.
It was less than six months ago that she had picked Marilyn up at an exhibition of erotic art. She had noticed Marilyn’s pale pretty face from the other side of the room. Dressed in a leather mini-skirt and tight top, Marilyn had looked incredibly desirable. She had been standing in front of a Gustave Coubet painting of two naked women lying on a bed, supposedly sleeping but wrapped around each other and entwined in a highly suggestive manner. One of the women’s lips were close to the other’s breast. Marilyn was smiling to herself and probably showing her thoughts more blatantly than she intended. Terri had gone up beside her and said, “Does that appeal to you?”
“What d’you mean?” Marilyn had asked, a little flustered. “The painting or the act?”
Terri had laughed and Marilyn had blushed. Terri had suggested a drink. Marilyn hesitated, but when Terri had asked her again she had finally agreed. Marilyn was not as diffident as she at first seemed. In fact she was quite argumentative. While having the drink, she had been surprisingly rude by contradicting everything Terri said and had started an argument which had become heated on both sides. That was the first time Terri had ever been aroused by an argument. She couldn’t wait to get her hands and mouth on the girl. She persuaded her to come back to her flat, where they had re-enacted the modeling of Courbet’s painting.
Terri couldn’t remember when she had had such wonderful sex. Marilyn’s skin was gorgeously soft, her breasts firmer than any she had caressed in a long time, her bottom deliciously kissable and her vagina so young and tight that Terri’s tongue almost had to force its way in. And Marilyn’s muscles made Terri feel that her tongue was being pulled right up into her vagina. Terri had never thrilled at soixante-neuf so much as with Marilyn. She would happily have stayed in that position for hours, giving Marilyn pleasure and tasting her sweet juices while encouraging Marilyn to do the same to her.
Just thinking about how wonderful it had been that first night softened her towards Marilyn. But it also made her even more aware of the dampness between her legs.
“Maybe when we get to the service station we could find a dark corner and get in the back of the car for a little while?” she suggested.
“Are you kidding? After being so horrible to me, you expect to eat pussy? You’ve got a bloody nerve. You’re always the same. You deliberately start an argument and then you expect sex afterwards!”
“Please, Lyn, I need something, even if it’s only a loving finger.”
She had not told Marilyn how their arguments aroused her; she had always felt slightly ashamed of the fact. In all her forty years, Terri had never experienced such strange emotions before and she was confused by them. Marilyn was nearly twenty years younger than her and was undeniably difficult but Terri knew that the arguments were her own fault as well. Although she didn’t want to admit it, she seemed to need them.