For Your Viewing Pleasure...."Beg Me" Part Six
Top Dom/mes, Sydney Cummings, an African-American Goddess and Mark Bryant, a man with a body that was chiseled from a slab of solid hotness, have a score to settle. Who will be the first to beg? With both of their reputations on the line, this is going to be a fight to the very end.
This story is sensual, sexy, and HOT...you've been warned
“On your knees,” Mark intoned heavily. Sydney obeyed and knelt on the sofa, facing away from him. She bit her bottom lip, eagerly awaiting his barbarous assault.
“Bend over. Lift your ass towards me,”
She didn’t move a muscle and dutifully awaited her punishment.
She didn’t have to wait too long. Smack! Mark’s firm hand came down her sensitive ass cheek. Sydney shook, near orgasm.
“Bend over,” he ordered.
This time she submitted without question, knees slightly a part, positioning herself over the back of the sofa. Oh how she loved when he became forceful.
Mark’s roaming hands inspected her angelic body; up and down her back, around her thighs and up her luscious bottom. Methodically, bragging his hand from her mound, he allowed a finger to plunge into her wetness, steadily manipulating her as he leaned close to her ear.
“I’m not going to be gentle. I’m not going to take it slow. You are mine to do with as I please. Do you understand?” Mark felt her walls tighten around his finger and her body sagged, the telltale signs of her orgasm approaching. “Don’t you dare.” he commanded.
A disgusted whimper escaped her lips as he withdrew from her.
Mark moved behind her, spread her rich brown cheeks and swabbed the mushroom-like head of his cock over her moistened portico. With two monstrous stroked, he burrowed into her. As promised he wasn’t gentle, he didn’t take it slow. He took her pussy as if he owned it, and for the time being he did. Sydney braced her hands against the wall in front of her while Mark, with swift precision of a conquering dictator, fucked her raw-ragged over the back of the couch.
This being his favorite position, Mark savored the sight of his strong white hands controlling each thrust and bounce and jostle of her well-tone sorrel derrière. He could have handled the image alone but coupled with Sydney’s suckling pussy, he had to fend off his hedonistic urge to pile-drive her head first through the wall.
“Oooohhh, damn Mark,” Sydney cried, splay at the capricious malice of her cock-wielding lover. Her ever increasing arousal was made audible by the torrent his persistent bedlam produced. Mark turned her face to his, kissing her full mouth.
She locked eyes with him, smiling and panting devilishly.
“You’re enjoying every minute of this, aren’t you?” he smiled, giving her ass a rigid squeeze.
As if suffering temporary aphasia, Sydney nodded and silently prayed he would continue his murderous rhythm which left her precariously balanced between pleasure and insatiable pain.
“Speak,” he crooned, taking her earlobe between his pillow-soft lips.
“Mark, that’s not fair. You know what that does to me,” Sydney melted.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, baby. What ever do you mean?” he teased, taking her earlobe once more, thrusting her forward. He could take it no longer. “Goddamn Sydney, wanna cum inside of you,”
“Cum in me, please,” she begged, the thought of him ‘wanting’ to cum in her sent Sydney’s orgasm off the Richter scale.
Mark drilled into her without care, spreading her cheeks a part, watching his cock release it’s load into her eagerly awaiting hole with seismic jarring shakes.
Sydney languished as he drove in and out until finally he was empty and breathing heavily. She moaned as he pulled out and collapsed, flat on his back, in the middle of her living room floor.
“God, I hope you’re on the pill,” he hoofed.
Sydney sat up, startled. “What! You’re not sterile?”
Mark quickly rose up on his elbows, frowning, his heart jumping from his chest.
Try as she may, Sydney couldn’t hold a straight-face. “Of course I’m on the pill.”
“Fucking hell, Sydney,” he crashed again. “You can’t do that to me.”
“Do what?” She wrapped a throw blanket around her nude body. “You mean to tell me that you don’t want to raise children with me?” She said mockingly.
“Woman, I have enough trouble raising you.”
“Whatever. I’m going to take a shower,” she replied, climbing the stairs. “Call me when dinner is done.”
“Are you sure you don’t need me to run your bath water?”
“Ha!” She laughed. “No thank you. I think I can manage on my own.” as she walked away.
*******
“We need to talk about this trip.” Mark said, pulling a roasted chicken out of the oven and setting it on the stove. After their long day at work, having this conversation over their quiet dinner was the last thing Mark wanted to do but there was no way around it. The situation needed to be sorted out.
“What's on your mind?” Sydney asked, clearing their laptops from the table.
“I know why you planned this trip but, if I were you, I wouldn’t get my hopes up. There’s a 50-percent chance this reunion will go up in smoke.” On the surface, Mark appeared calm outside but inside he was turning flips. “My parents aren’t the most pliable people you’ll meet. My father can be very stubborn.”
“Nooo,” she teased. “Is that where you get that from?”
“I’m not stubborn. Besides, having my family in my life is a luxury. I don’t need them.”
There was a discernable dryness in his tone that hadn’t been present before. Sydney quickly realized that he didn’t believe his own words. They were just that…words; words meant to protect himself. But how could she make him see that he was wrong?
Mark finished slicing Sydney’s food and carried both of their plates to the table. “Be careful. It’s still hot.” He took his seat. “I’m serious, Sydney. My parents are conservative. Our house ran like a well-oiled machine with my father at the helm. We didn’t talk much about anything,” he looked as if he’d had an epiphany. “We really didn’t talk.”
“Maybe that’s the problem,” she pointed out, moving her vegetables off to one side of her plate. “Maybe opening the lines of communication is all you need to settle your differences.”
Mark put down his utensils with a clatter. “There are no lines of communication left. This is why I told you not to get your hopes up. The last thing I want is for them to make a stupid remark about you or our lifestyle.” He felt is anger rising. “Syd, please understand, my family isn’t like yours. My mother will not be welcomed with open arms, and there’s a big possible my father won’t say two words to you the entire time we’re there. Then what? I’m supposed to sit back and let them treat you like that? I won’t stand for it. They can mistreat me all they want because I expect it but I won’t let them mistreat you.”
Sydney saw the anxiety wile in his eyes. “You’re concerned about how they’ll receive me?”
He placed his napkin over his food and returned to the kitchen. “I can’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“This,” His voice was laced with irritation. “All of this. The only reason I’m agreeing to make this trip is because of you. Emotional, you’ve put yourself out there for me. It’s only fair that I give reconciliation a chance. But if they disrespect you in any way, we’re leaving. I’m not returning with my hat in hand, asking for their forgiveness. I have done nothing wrong and neither have you.” He scraped his uneaten food into the trash and began loading the dishwasher.
Normally, Sydney would have taken his words with a grain of salt however his tone spoke of his uneasiness with the impending reunion; almost painful. “Oh Mark,” she said, walking over to him. “We don’t have to go. There is still time to cancel our flights.” She wrapped her arms around him from behind. “We can sneak off to Vermont for a couple of weeks and leave our worries behind.”
“No,” Mark stopped his incisive cleaning ritual and sighed shaking his head. “It’s time to resolve this once and for all.
Trying to suppress her urge to rape him, Sydney playfully kissed the sensitive spot between his shoulder blades, sending goose bumps down his arms. “You make it sound like we’re about to trek through the dark and gloomy forest of your prosaic childhood.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” He laughed. “It wasn't that bad. But I can’t guarantee you will not rethink our relationship after spending time with them.”
“I’m never leaving you,” she insisted, pulling herself closer to Mark, spending him forward into the stone countertop.
“You say that now,” He turned in her arms, looking down into her rich brown eyes. “But you haven’t been to Iowa. I give it two days and you’ll be begging me to get you the hell out of there.”
Whatever,” Sydney smiled up at him. “As long as you’re happy then I’m happy.”
Mark burst out laughing.
“What?” she asked.
“As long as you’re happy then I’m happy,” he mocked. “Please! What have you done with my woman? Where’s my diva?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ll be fine in Iowa.’ Her comment was met with a dry cynical expression. “I’m serious! I’ve learned to do more things on my own.”
“Prove it,” he said.
Sydney wrinkled her nose. “Prove what?”
“Show me what you’ve learned,” he challenged. “Clean the kitchen while I finish packing.”
She frowned, pulled from his embrace and walked away. “I don’t do dishes.”
“Well, tidy up the living room.” He shouted, arms crossed, leaning against the counter.
“I don’t “tidy up” either,” she replied.
“That’s exactly my point, Sydney.” Mark needled. “I feel like goddamn Mr. Mom around here.”
“Greta, we’re headed to the airport,” Mark stared at his reflection in the limos tinted window. “Sydney’s assistants emailed you their phone numbers should you need to contact them,” he stopped. “No, you’re not answering to them in my absence. You’re still my assistant,” he paused. “I’m not asking you to kowtow to them. I want you all to exchange numbers so nothing slips through the cracks while we’re out of town.”
Sydney turned an irritated eye to Mark. He shrugged and continued his back and forth discussion five seconds too long. Sydney took the phone from his hand.
“Greta, this is Mistress Sydney," she said in her most commanding Domme tone. “Save the niceties, I don’t pay you. You will call my office and coordinate your Master’s schedule with mine. If there are any mistakes or you say one word out of place, I will hand you over to my assistants and let them beat you to death. And if you ever disclose your Master’s private information to anyone else, I will personally mail your rotting body parts to your family. Do you understand me?” she paused. “Good.”
“You really have to get rid of her,” Sydney past the phone to Mark. “She has become too familiar with you. My girls would never speak to me in that way.”
“I don’t know why you’re complaining. If it wasn’t for her, you wouldn’t have been able to arrange this trip,” said Mark, unmoved. “Her big mouth comes in handy when you need it.” he caught himself. “You look beautiful. Are you ready for this?”
“I’m fine. How are you feeling?” she asked. Mark smiled an all-to familiar devilishly smile, his bright blue eyes sparkled. Sydney knew what that look meant “Mark Bryant, you can’t be serious. I’m about to meet your parents, we don’t have time for this. We went at it all last night!”
“Damn it, I wish we had more time! You know how I am; I need to relieve some stress. I’m a ball of nerves.” He said.
“Are you nervous about seeing them?” she asked, unbuttoning his pants and kneeling between his legs, tempting him with the unobstructed view of his cock poised before the fulsome cushions of her slightly parted lips.
“No, I’m nervous about your reaction.” Mark managed, maintaining eye contact with Sydney as she swirled her tongue around the head of his cock then slowly consume its length.
“Thank you, baby. I needed this.” He groaned, head slant back against the seat, his eyes lolling into his head as her luscious mouth asserted its dominance over its captive member.
Mark’s worries dissipated, his mind wandered to Sydney delicately stroking up and down the center of his shaft in time with her head while her gentle pagan-like paeans coaxed him into a hypnotic state of sublime nothingness.
This was his paradise. And she, his Valkyrie.
The infinite moments spent nestled in her mouth, made time stand still. There was no hurry; she performed this selfless act because she enjoyed the journey as much as he did. When in her mouth, there were no quandaries, no uneasiness or troubles. Here, with the woman he loved, prostrate before him, fervently worshipping his impossibly thick cock---there was peace at last.
Their eyes met, he softly thumbed her cheek, watching his cock being patiently engulfed by her sodden lips. His ability to articulate his thoughts or comprehend the spoken language had vanished within minutes of this improvisational penile play. Utterly resigned to her will, Mark closed his eyes; uninhibited and at her mercy once more.
Within minutes Sydney feels Mark’s muscle begin to constrict, she hears a gasp of breath slip between his lips, and he releases a stream of guttural-whispers beseeching her not to stop as if his life depended upon it.
“Ohh, yeah, baby" he groans as the first shots hit the cathedral of her mouth. “Ohhh....Ohhh....Ohhh....” he shouts with each spray.
Sydney continued sucking softly, watching Mark muddle through the complex web of post-libidinal endorphin release.
“You’re loving this aren’t you?” he smiled down at Sydney.
“Yes, I am,” she chuckled.
Mark swallowed hard. “Pay back is a bitch,”
******
Their midday descent into Des Moines International Airport was uneventful but the surroundings weren’t exactly what Sydney had expected. Where were the corn fields? Where were the French colonists demanding their free trade rights? Where Meskwaki Indians? In their place was a thriving metropolis with corporate headquarters, large banking institutions and universities. And unlike the “children on the corn” she’d imagined, the people were plain spoken and kind.
“I see where your attitude comes from.” Sydney remarked as Mark drove their rented black Dodge Ram 1500 down the highway.
“What attitude?” his eyes smiled sideways.
“You are so down-to-earth. I see where that comes from,”
“It’s kind of hard to take yourself too seriously when you’re standing knee-deep in pig shit.”
Sydney gagged. “Baby, don’t be disgusting; don’t play like that.”
“I’m sorry. That was way too easy.” He kissed the back of her hand.
“Des Moines is a beautiful city,” she turned her attention out of the window. “But where is “Molly Midwest” with her fifteen children?”
“You mean my sister?” he laughed. “You’ll meet her soon enough.”
She lowered her voice “Do you think we should have called before coming?”
Mark sighed. “No. If I had called my entire family would have been at my parent’s house waiting for us to arrive.”
“Sort of like a homecoming,” Sydney said sarcastically. “We wouldn’t want that to happen.”
“It would be less of a homecoming and more like a bunch of people that happen to share the same bloodline coming together to witness the black sheep return to the flock,”
“Are you nervous, about being here? I’ll understand if you are. You can talk to me.”
Mark pinched his lips tight. “No, I’m ready to get this over with. I just want to put it all behind me.”
“And just have done with it?”
“Yeah,”
“You really are doing this for me, aren’t you?”
“Something like that.” He jaw gave a small twitched. Sydney decided to push no further. Mark checked his rearview mirror and merged off the exit.
“Where are we going? Why are we leaving the city?” Sydney turned watching the skyline fade.
“I didn’t grow up in Des Moines. I’m from Boone.” Mark announced. Seeing Sydney’s distressed expression, he found it difficult to hide his amusement. “Hey, you wanted to come here! I would have gone to Vermont.”
“I didn’t know we’d be going back to the 1700s. That’s why you rented this beast of a truck!” she slumped back in the seat, arms folded over her chest.
“Ha, I told you that I grew up on a farm.”
“Whatever. I’m telling you right now, I’m not milking a goddamn cow.”
About an hour later they found themselves turning off of the country road and onto a road displaying the name “BRYANT”. Mark gave a bellowing laugh.
“My father finally got the street name he’d wanted,”
“What?” Sydney sat erect.
“It’s a big deal in the country,” he explained. “All of the large working farms have roads named after the families who own them. I guess my father finally got his way and the dirt road’s been paved.” They turned into a gate divided two white fences that seemed to stretch for miles. Acres of unidentifiable crops flanked either side of the black tar road that would eventually open to an enormous white farmhouse with pristine barns and corn silos off in the distance, being attended being the hired help. Typical Iowa.
Mark pulled the trunk under one of the many mature shade trees dotting their land and took a moment to inhale the pungent scents of his childhood before helping Sydney out of the truck. She felt his hand tremor then settled.
“Are you ready?” she asked cautiously.
“Yeah,” he gave a faint nod. “Let’s get this over with.”
Mark escorted Sydney up to the large wrap around porch and into the open screen door and into their postcard perfect living room filled with photos of his family but none of Mark. Sydney’s heart sank and then she spied a glimmer of hope; tucked away in a petite frame adjusted to a small settee was one of him, no more than ten years old at the time it was taken.
“I called for you over an hour ago. Where….,” a female voice rang out. Mark and Sydney turned to see a slightly plump woman with hair the hue of dried hay approaching.
She stopped in step, keeping her distance as Mark eyes met hers. A few agonizing seconds passed in silence between them.
Sydney knew immediately this was his mother. There was no mistaking those eyes. “Say something.” She thought to herself. “This is your son for goodness sake.”
“He doesn’t know you’re here, does he?” she finally said.
“No,” Mark replied evenly.
“And you think that you can come back here after all this time, like nothing has changed. Like everything…”
“I don’t need this shit,” He interrupted and turned to leave.
“Mark,” Sydney reached for him but his mother took hold of him.
“Don’t go,” her face contorted as tears flowed down her aging cheeks. “Life around here hasn’t the same without you. It’s been empty. My God,” she cataloged every detail of his face. “I didn’t think you would come back but here you are…looking quite handsome.” She smiled through her tears.
Sydney brushed away her tears quietly and gave them space. Mark stood speechless; he hadn't expected this reaction from either of his parents.
“Can hug you?” his mother asked almost timidly.
Mark looked to Sydney. She nodded.
“Yeah,” he choked to his mother. He leaned and took her into his embrace and exhaled a long soothing breath. “I’ve missed you.”
Sydney stifled her weeping, not wanting to draw any attention to herself. Seeing him find peace with at least one of his parents made the absence of hers a little least painful.
Mark tried to ease from her gasp to look at her but she was resolved. “I’m letting you go again. You might not ever come back.” She chuckled. Mark managed a smile and then his gaze fell on Sydney.
“Mother, this is Sydney Cummings, my girlfriend. Syd, this is my mother,” He said “She put all of this together.”
His mother quickly dried her eyes and hands and welcomed Sydney with open arms.
“It's nice to finally meet you,” Sydney said.
“It’s nice to meet you as well,” she studied Sydney’s face. “My son always did have good taste.”
“Thank you ma’am,” she grinned.
Just then there was the sound of someone coming through the back entrance. They all stopped and waited. Mark and Sydney both felt their Dom rise. Sydney’s eyes flew to Mark, poised for battle.
“I was all the way on the other side of the fence when you called. I had to….” His father announced coming through the kitchen. He entered the living room and made eye contact with Mark.
Without a word both men turned and stormed from the house, one going through the front while the other went for the back with their respective women in tow, calling to them.
"Mark,” Sydney called running across the yard.
“Get in the truck, Sydney.” He demanded, swinging her door open.
“We just got here,” she stopped. “Please, wait.”
“It was a mistake coming here. I should have never let you talk me into this.”
“Don’t say that,” She closed the door and leaned him back against the truck. “You saw your mom’s reaction. It’s obvious she is unhappy. She needs you,” she calmed yourself. “Please don’t do this to her.”
“She doesn’t need me. She has her husband. Let him sort her out,” his voice cold, voiding Sydney’s eyes.
“You don’t mean that,” She took his face gently. “I saw you in there. You need her just as much as she needs you. You’re her oldest son, Mark. Of course she misses you. No parent wants to loose their child.”
“Really,” Mark’s gaze slashed through her. “Then why did she let me go in the first place? Why didn’t she come looking for me? Why hasn’t she pick up a phone and called after ten years? Sydney, ten years and not one of them had even called to see if I’m alive or dead. She’s my mother. Of all people, how could she abandon me?”
Sydney search franticly for a reasonable answer. “I don’t know but now is your chance to ask those questions,” she dropped her tone. “Don’t leave like the, not again.”
“Why not?” he asked callously.
“Because there may not be a next time,” her emotions got the better of her. “Maybe the next time you’ll be speaking to her it’ll be through a concrete slab and your questions will go unanswered just like mine. And I’ll have to be the one to put you back together again but I can’t, I can’t do it, Mark, because I’m all messed up,” she spoke in a rambling flood hoping that something she said would make Mark rethink his decision to leave. “I can’t take care of everything alone. For god sake, I can’t even tidy the house. And who’s gonna do the shopping? Me?! Don’t you see, Mark, none of this works! It’s all pear shaped! I brought you all the way here to Bumfuck Iowa so that you don’t have to live my life. You can have your questions answered. So, stop being stubborn,” she pointed to the house. “You have to go back in there and sort this out because I can’t wash dishes!!” she stopped only to breathe.
“Because you can’t wash dishes? What the hell was that?” Mark burst out laughing, pulling her into his arms. “You’re such a beautiful nut case, Sydney Cummings.”
“Well I can’t. I tried a few months ago; it didn’t work out. There were suds everywhere,” Sydney chuckled then rested her head on Mark. “I love you,” she mumbled.
“I love you too. And for the record, I would never expect you to do dishes.”
“Stop laughing at me.” She hugged his tightly.
“I’m not...Ok yeah…I am laughing at you. But I love you.”
“Promise we won’t leave until you’ve at least spoken to your mom?”
Mark sighed, looking towards the house, struggling with his own demons.
Meanwhile, Helen trekked after her husband through their expansive backyard.
“Mark, wait.” Helen called.
“Who invited him? I don’t remember giving my blessing.” He turned on her.
She gasped. “Your blessing! He’s your son. Your namesake. He came back because this is his home. We are all he has and we should welcome him and his friend.”
“I’m not welcoming them. They can both leave my house or family in peace. I want nothing to do with either of them.”
Helen stood rooted in front of her massive husband, her eyes turned as cold as her sons. “You selfish son of a bitch,”
“Watch your mouth, Helen.”
“Make me,” she pushed him backwards. “Listen to you! ‘Your house’. ‘Your family’! What about me? Your obstinacy has taken my first born away from me. For over ten years, your inflexibility has torn this family down the seam. And I’ve had swallow my sorrow for too long. I won’t do it anymore.”
He tried to interject; she stopped him with a raised hand. “I don’t want to hear it! That man standing out there is my son and I love him and don’t care how he chooses to live his life. He has the rest of the world against him, and I won’t be one of them. He said he missed me and that was all I needed to hear.”
Mark Sr. looked around the yard, spying the hired help hurrying about their chores. “What will everyone think? My oldest son, what is he? Some kind of S&M freak.”
“He is not a freak.”
“Then what would you call it?” he demanded.
“I don’t know,” Helen shouted. “I don’t understand his lifestyle but it doesn’t matter because it’s his life, not ours. He is one of the best people that I know and I don’t want to loose him.”
Mark Sr. brushed aside his wife’s reasoning. “Things must be going pretty bad if you showed up here unannounced,” he sorted. “How much did he ask for?”
Helen’s heart began to race uncontrollably; the lines on her face grew taut. “Mark has never asked us for anything. Not a dime, in all these years. Whereas our other children have leeched onto us. What does everyone have to say about that? But to be perfectly honest, I don’t care what anything thinks. Let them gossip. That’s my son and you took him away from me. My baby came home and I had to ask permission to hug him all because of you!” her tears flowed freely. “I have suffered, sat my feelings aside to please you. Not any longer. He came back to me and I’m not loosing him again for you or anyone else. He’s not going to walk out of that door again thinking he is unloved. He should know that one of his parents gives a damn about him.”
His jaw clinched, he saw the pain in her eyes, pleading yet determined. “I don’t know.”
“You owe me!” she shouted.
“Fine,” he begrudgingly conceded. “They can stay but I don’t want anything to do with them.” he stormed pass her, letting the screen door slam as he entered the house. Helen followed in short order.
When Mark Sr. and Helen walked into the living room, Sydney and Mark stood waiting. Father and son were the spitting image of one another. Strong, tall, dark hair and blue eyed. They stood neither knowing what to say; their silence was mired in misery. Helen and Sydney said a tacit prayer watching the men they loved locked in a quiet battle of wills. Neither prepared to give way to the other. It was hopeless.
“Hello, I’m Sydney.” She stepped forward, offering her hand. He took it gently yet firmly; like his son.
“Hello Sydney,” Mark Sr. crooned, his arctic eyes speared Sydney to the bone. “Call me Sr.”
She recognized that look; it was the same one Mark gave her on their first meeting. Sydney immediately calmed, she knew how to get through to him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Mark has told me so much about you. About you both,” her eyes darted to Helen who stood with a faint approving grin. Sydney searched for her words. “You have a beautiful home.”
Clenched fisted, Mark turned to leave.
“Where are you staying?” Sr. called to him abruptly.
Mark didn’t turn around. Those were the first words his father had spoken to him in years, and they couldn’t have been more perfect, loaded but perfect. He wrestled to check his pride; he’d promised Sydney that would at least try to reconcile if given the chance. Exhaling, he released his fist and turned meeting his father’s softened gaze.
“My assistant made us reservation in De Moines. We will be staying there.”
“Assistant,” Helen chimed in attempting to lighten the mood. “Well haven’t you become a big shot!”
“I guess I have,” He smiled at his mother.
“Too much of a big shot to stay here with us? We have plenty of room. There is always room for you.” Helen said on the verge of tears, desperate for someone, anyone to stop him from leaving. Sr. took her trembling hand in his.
“You will stay here,” Sr. more so ordered than offered. Helen checked him with a squeeze of her hand. “I mean, you are welcomed to stay if you’d like. Your girlfriend seems drawn to your mother, and…um…she could use the company.”
Helen and Sydney turned to Mark. Under the gun, He hated making this decision. It felt as though his father had won in someway. “Hell no!” was what he’d prepared to say but the ladies insistent expressions persuaded him otherwise.
“I don’t know,” he said. Sydney’s heart dropped through the floor. “We had planned on being in the area for two weeks and we don’t want to be an imposition….”
“It’s no imposition at all!” Helen interrupted. “We love to have you. Both of you.”
“Please,” Sydney mouthed to Mark.
“Fine,” he agreed. “We’ll stay on one condition.” They all listened closely. “No big family gatherings. I don’t want the entire family coming over, at least not right away. Give us some time to settle in before everyone shows up.”
To Sr., Mark’s request seems more like an order, a slap in the face after he’d humbled himself and opened his doors. Who was Mark to make demands in his house?
Mark wasn’t budging. This request was a deal breaker.
“No problem! It will just be the four of us for a few days. But I can’t stop the others from stopping by. You know how this house is; people are in and out all the time.” Helen said.
“I wouldn’t ask you to do that,” he grinned. “I just don’t want the big over the top powwows that you’re notorious for.”
“So, I guess killing a hog would be not of the question.”
“Yes, I’m afraid it would be. I don’t think we could eat it all.” He chuckled then caught his father’s eye. “If that’s alright with you, father, this is your home.”
Sr.’s chest rose defensively, his stare cut through Mark. He wanted to knock his head clear off his shoulders but remembered Helen’s grip. “Do whatever you want.” He said politely and left with Helen close behind.
“You shouldn’t have said that, Mark,” Sydney punched Mark square in the chest. “He was trying to be nice. What’s wrong with you?” she shoved again.
He took a couple of steps backward. “I don’t know. I guess I have some issues of my own,” he hugged her against him. “I’m exhausted. It feels like I’ve been hit by a MAC truck. Do you feel that?”
“Yeah, my heart’s going a mile a minute. I’m drained.”
“I’d better get the bags out of the truck.” He kissed her.
“I’ll help.” Sydney trotted behind him.
“What!” Mark gave her a strained look from the corner of his eye. “What’s happening to you? Where’s my diva?”
“Well, you know what they say—when in Rome.”