Crumple Zone

"She's waiting for a kiss good night," Holly whispered loudly to Marc.

"Hey, Holly, uh, maybe he don't want to kiss me?" Hank suggested, blushing hotly.

Marc smiled and got to his feet. He had lived with his older brother's sneering and posturing and bullying for years and knew full well that physical hurts heal much quicker than emotional harms. Even if he were not attracted to the beautiful, sexy young woman, Marc would have done what he could to avoid hurting her feelings. But in truth, he was very attracted to Holly's roommate. He was almost as attracted to the beautiful Hank as he was to the gorgeous Holly.

"I, uh, I was trying to think of some way I could get a kiss from you," Marc said to Hank. "You know, a kiss, and not look like a jerk in front of Holly."

He approached the young woman and took her small hands into his hands. She glanced down at their joined hands.

"Ooh, big hands. You uh, you know what they say about men with big hands?" Hank stammered.

Marc could clearly see her half-dollar sized areolae and rock hard nipples through the clinging tank top. Gently, he lifted her chin by bringing her left and and his right hand up to her chin. He smiled, gazing into her eyes.

"Yeah; that we wear big gloves," Marc suggested and she giggled nervously.

Marc intended for their kiss to be a simple lip to lip kiss. Hank jammed her lips against his, then opened her mouth and licked his lips. When he opened his mouth, she thrust her tongue into his mouth, then sucked hard on his tongue.

"Good night. I, thank you so much for inviting me over," Marc whispered, gently touching her lips with his.

"Good night," Hank whispered, then turned and fled up the stairs.

Marc watched Hank's adorable bubble butt scampering up the stairs. The yoga pants were somewhat translucent; he could see her tanned flesh underneath the thin material. Her panties were a pale pink thong, framing her luscious buttocks beautifully.

"I knew you'd like her," Holly enthused, joining Marc.

"I, what's not to like?" Marc agreed.

"I, I'm so glad you came over," Holly whispered at the door.

"Me too," Marc agreed.

Holly wrapped her arms around Marc's torso and fully pressed her braless breasts against him. Her kiss was a sloppy tongue kiss. She smiled a satisfied smile when she glanced down at his rampant erection.

"Good night," Holly whispered again, and gently pushed Marc out of the condo.

At work Tuesday morning, the usual crowd in the break room looked on as Holly enthusiastically greeted Marc. The same group were mystified as Marc and Holly sat together to eat lunch. Marc was amused as, throughout the day, coworker after coworker stuck their heads into his office, then gave him a thumbs up. By Wednesday, a few people braved asking Marc about the relationship.

Marc was a straight-shooter, which was how he had beat out the large field of qualified applicants for the position of marketing manager. Martin Boyd himself had been the final person to interview him and had liked Marc's honest answers. Marc was not afraid to admit that he didn't know everything about everything and there was always something to learn.

So when they asked him about the relationship, Marc answered that he didn't know what the relationship was. But, whatever the relationship might be, he was thoroughly enjoying the developing friendship between himself and Holly Tannenbaum.

"So, managed to melt the Ice Queen, eh?" Brandon Walker, a recent transplant from Great Oak, Texas drawled, standing in the doorway of Marc's office.

"Know what? I really don't appreciate you talking about my friend like that," Marc snapped. "Holly Tannenbaum? Is a warm and genuine friend. Just because you're too asinine to see that, well, that's your problem, not hers. Not mine. Now, go; you're not being paid to stand around in my office."

"You are the sweetest man," Holly gushed when they met up at their four o'clock coffee break.

"Everyone in the AA Pool is sooo jealous of me," Holly giggled warmly into Marc's ear.

"Nope. They're all jealous of me," Marc smiled.

Thursday morning, Brandon Walker scowled when Holly invited Marc over for supper. Marc smiled; he could see three of the Administrative Assistants looking at him and Holly with stars in their eyes, and four men looking on with envious smiles on their faces.

"Hank's making lasagna," Holly enthused. "You thought the red beans and rice were good? Just wait. Just you wait."

"I am there. Oh, and tell Hank I'll pick up some wine," Marc agreed.

"She's going make me fat," Holly insisted when she opened the door of the condo.

"Yes. I have that power, Holly. No. It's not you picking up the fork and stuffing it into your face. It's all me," Hank called out from the kitchen.

"She's making blueberry tarts for dessert. You tell me, could anyone possibly resist homemade blueberry tarts? With vanilla bean icing?" Holly demanded, kissing Marc hotly.

"Oh, you are such a victim. Let's all feel sorry for Holly; hi Sweetheart," Hank smiled as Marc entered the kitchen, carrying a large bottle of red wine.

"Hi," Marc smiled, then bent and kissed Hank when she pursed her lips in invitation. "God, that, that smells unbelievable."

"She makes her own pasta. You believe that?" Holly said, rubbing Hank's back affectionately. "You believe that? Who, who makes their own pasta?"

"Store bought's just so, so bland," Hank said, searching for a corkscrew. "Baby, we got a corkscrew?"

"You don't, I got my army knife," Marc said, producing his Swiss Army knife.

This time, knowing there was dessert, Marc did not gorge himself. He would have liked to; Hank used fresh garlic and olive oil in her preparation of the pasta sheets.

"A woman likes when her man appreciates her cooking," Hank smiled and kissed Marc when she got up from the table.

"I knew she'd like you," Holly enthused, gripping Marc's hand.

The fresh blueberry tarts were restaurant quality as far as Marc was concerned. Hank's lasagna was also restaurant quality; her lasagna put his mother's lasagna to shame and Marc had always thought his mother made the best lasagna in the world.

"Okay, it's a work night," Hank declared when Marc finished his tarts. "So, we're kicking you out."

"But you need to think of something for the three of us to do. And, no. Not the movies," Holly said. "Something where we can get to know one another."

"So, good night," Hank said, standing in the doorway of the dining room.

"She's waiting for a good night kiss," Holly whispered loudly.

"Shut up, Holly," Hank giggled nervously.

Marc gave Hank a warm, soft kiss. Hank was the one that opened her mouth and Marc did not hesitate in coaxing her blueberry sweet tongue out.

"Mm," Hank sighed as Marc pulled her tightly against himself.

"Good night," Hank said, then stomped up the stairs.

"I think she likes you," Holly sang as she walked Marc to the front door.

"I know I like you," she whispered and kissed him wetly.

"Mm hmm," she purred when Marc's hand rubbed up and down her tee shirt clad back.

"Mm, oh, oh I think you better go now," Holly gasped when Marc braved brushing his hand against her left breast.

With another passionate kiss, Holly eased Marc out of the condominium.

The three of them fit in his pickup truck and he took them to Hop Kim's Chinese restaurant. The trio had fun eating with the chopsticks and also sampled from one another's plates. From there, they went to the Courtyard Bowling Alley, next to the Courtyard Mall in Pinoak, Louisiana. Holly had not been bowling since her early teens, and Hank had never bowled before.

Bowling was an excellent sport for two or three people getting to know one another. It fostered friendly rivalry, genuine cheers and encouragement.

They went in alphabetical order; Hank, then Holly, and Marc bringing up the rear. When Hank was up, trying to line up to throw the perfect strike, Holly leaned heavily against Marc, whispering, blowing warm breath into his ear.

"My mother was a beautiful blonde woman who loved my dad and me and my sisters wit all her heart," Holly said, then applauded Hank's three pin volley.

"She never said, and my Dad never said, but the reason they got a divorce was because my Mom was gay," Holly disclosed, then got up to bowl.

"This is fun," Hank giggled happily, resting against Marc's other side.

"Yeah, a bowling alley's the kind of place no one tells you to be quiet," Marc opined.

Hank wound her arms around his torso and hugged him, pressing her full breasts into his side. She kissed his cheek then rested her head on his shoulder.

"Ha! Beat that!" Holly jeered when she'd managed to knock over five pins.

Marc smiled and picked up his bowling ball. Because the facility was only a few months old, the lanes were still quite slick, the shoes were quite stiff, and the balls were not chipped and worn. Marc wondered how long it would be before the facility was as run-down, decrepit as the Bowl-A-Rama in Bender, Louisiana.

Carefully, Marc managed to knock over one pin. His second roll was a gutter ball.

"Ha!" Hank teased him as she sashayed past.

Hank squealed, then laughed when he delivered a light slap to her shapely buttocks. Holly smiled as he took his seat next to her.

"I've seen your office," Holly reminded him.

"Hmm? That's nice. Oh! Hey, I've never seen your office," Marc said.

"And I've seen all them bowling trophies on your shelf," Holly giggled and kissed him.

Holly told Marc about losing her beautiful, wonderful, loving mother to a horrible automobile accident one morning. Holly had just recently begun the frightening, uncomfortable transformation from gawky girl into young woman; Holly truly needed her mommy.

"I mean, Dad had married Miss Wendy; wasn't ever any doubt she loved us girls," Holly said, then clapped for Hank's two gutter balls. "You'll do better next time Sweetheart."

"You'll do better," Marc agreed as Hank flopped down and rested against him.

While Holly tried to 'visualize' the perfect roll, Hank kept Marc distracted. Her large breasts pushed into him, her warm breath blew into his ear and her small hand rested on his thigh. Marc somehow managed to get up and bowl, knocking down five pins.

"High school, college, then finding out Daddy had cancer," Holly said. "I really needed my Mom."

Holly told Marc about Roger's fight against cancer, but finally losing the battle. And in the midst of all the chaos, she met Mattie Goldman.

"He made me laugh; he always seemed to know what to say," Holly murmured.

Valerie, Holly's mother had made sure that Holly, Alexandra and Kendra would never need for anything. Valerie had been very wealthy, thanks in part to her father's holdings. Shrewd investments, smart real-estate planning had increased Valerie's wealth.

Ms. Wendy had inherited half of Roger's estate; she was his wife, after all. But the remainder was split three ways between Holly, Alex, and Kendra. As the oldest, Holly was given first choice of her father's classic automobile collection.

"I was with him when he bought that Mustang," Holly whispered. "I told him, that's my car."

"And now, it's your car," Marc said, giving her a light kiss.

"See that? Huh? See that?" Hank crowed. "Got seven!"

"See? You're getting better at this," Marc praised as a happy Hank sat down, crowding against him.

"She been talking 'bout me?" Hank asked but kissed Marc before he could say anything.

Holly's squeal alerted them that she'd accidentally managed a spare. Hank hugged the girl, and in front of the twenty or so patrons and employees, kissed Holly on her lips. Holly smiled and hugged and kissed Marc as well.

"That's called a strike, right?" Holly enthused. "Right? I got a strike?"

"Actually, it's a spare," Marc smiled and managed to knock down three pins.

Holly told Marc, just after her father's death, Mattie announced he was moving back to DeGarde, his home town. Holly had felt true panic; she'd just buried her father, she had no mother, and now her boyfriend, her rock was leaving as well.

In desperation, Holly suggested they marry. Happily, Matt agreed. Holly was not completely clueless, though, and insisted on a pre-nuptial agreement.

"Hell, we're going to be together forever; put whatever you want in it," Mattie had smiled.

Forrest Maynard, one of Roger's associates helped Holly and Mattie draft up the agreement. Seeing the way Mattie's eyes kept drifting to Cyndy, the firm's beautiful and very well-developed receptionist, Holly made a last minute addendum regarding adultery. Again, Mattie declared they would be together forever, so signed without hesitation.

Mattie rented an apartment in the glamorous, prestigious Camelot Apartments in Bender, Louisiana. Two months later, on a beautiful Saturday in May, Holly became Mrs. Goldman. The couple honeymooned in Marina del Grande Aqua, a sleepy little villa on the western coastline of Mexico. Holly never thought to ask how they could afford such an extravagant honeymoon.

Up until her wedding night, Holly had managed to preserve her maidenhead. Most boys, men were satisfied with grabbing a generous handful of boob and filling a beautiful blonde's mouth with a hot load. Those that were not satisfied with those menial things balked at Holly's insistence that her husband, and only her husband would ever get between her legs. Not steady boyfriend, not fiancé, her husband and only her husband would ever pluck her cherry.

In Marina del Grande Agua, Holly discovered she liked sex, loved sex, craved sex. She was ecstatic when she found out that her sunning lotion could be put to other uses.

She knew sucking, licking and pinching her nipples could provide very pleasurable feelings. Finding out that a good titty fuck could cause her to orgasm was thrilling. Somehow, the degradation of having her husband squirting his juice onto her face and throat and chest, coating her with his semen intensified the vulgar pleasure.

"And, oh my God; up the butt?" Holly whispered hotly into Marc's ear. "Aw hell yeah!"

"You going bowl?" Hank teased Marc as he sat, golden brown eyes wide.

"Give me a minute," Marc groaned.

Marc smiled, then laughed when he heard Hank and Holly's elated squeals and giggles from behind him. Hank's breathless 'Holly! You didn't!' also made him laugh as he managed two gutter balls.

Returning home to the beautiful and spacious apartment, filled with tasteful, expensive furniture Mattie had selected, Holly found out they were in arrears, almost three months behind in their rent. And O'Neil's was threatening to come repossess their furniture. They just received notice from St. Elizabeth's Public Utilities. Then the bill for their honeymoon came in.

"And, of course, Mattie didn't have a job," Holly murmured. "Oh, he was looking. Well, he said he was looking. And he and his buddies Woody and Rickey? They'd meet at night; they had a business that was going to make millions."

The three men would meet at Holly's Camelot Apartment; Mattie had rented the apartment in her name, would chomp their way through snack foods and consume every drop of alcohol they could get their hands on while strategizing their market insertion, talking about securities, discussing labor intensive organizations. Holly first tried to reason with Mattie; they had no product, they had no service, they had no viable commodity. After a few times of being told to mind her own business, Holly confronted Woody, Rickey, and Mattie. Armed with the receipts of the massive amount of food and alcohol they'd consumed in just the past two weeks alone, Holly asked when she could hope to recoup her investments in RWM Strategical Management, LTD.

"Oh. I see, so...never," Holly said after Rickey's rambling, nonsensical explanation of their mission statement. "Well, the next RWM meeting? Needs to be at your home, Rickey."

That was when Holly found out that Rickey's wife would not let Rickey drink. Woody still lived at home with his parents, and his parents believed that Woody was clean and sober and attending AA and NA meetings on the nights he was actually at Mattie's apartment.

Their first fight as husband and wife was when Holly placed a lock on her credit. The second fight was when Holly refused Woody and Rickey entrance into her apartment.

"We are on the threshold; months of planning are about to come to fruition," Mattie declared earnestly.

"Then, meet at the library. Meet at Jitters. Meet in the dumpster behind Casa Ole," Holly snapped. "But you and your buddies are not meeting here, eating my food, drinking my booze."

"Oh. Oh, okay, Matt," Rickey sneered. "Guess we know who wears the pants and who wears the panties in this marriage."

When the apartment manager let Holly know the six month lease was nearly up, Holly decided she would not renew. Mattie whined, begged, threatened and pouted. Holly told him, he could renew the lease at any time. In his name. Not her name, his name.

Mattie claimed there had been some misunderstanding; he was continually mistaken for another Matthew Goldman, so his credit rating was in the toilet. Holly was unmoved.

Mattie objected to moving from a prestigious, upscale apartment into a single wide trailer in Kimble, Louisiana. Holly simply informed him, she was moving. And, since the furniture was in her name, the furniture was moving with her. Mattie's mother and father were still alive, still living in Bender, Louisiana, just down the road. Mattie was welcome to go live with them if living in a trailer was so abhorrent to his sensibilities.

"I love Daisy Upchurch," Holly giggled. "The women in the trailer park called her 'DK' and I was like, 'what are y'all talking about? Her name's Daisy Upchurch; shouldn't y'all be calling her DU?'"

The women in the trailer park called the moderately attractive forty-something woman 'DK' for 'Door Knob.' According to one woman, every boy in the trailer park had taken a turn. Except for her precious baby boy, of course.

"Shee-it, even that little Donnie Mouton lost his cherry to DK, and sure as I'm sitting here? That Donnie boy is a queer," Paula Boudreaux declared, letting out a plume of noxious cigarette smoke.

Two days after her twenty first birthday, a birthday Mattie had forgotten about, Holly came home from her job at Boyd Investments and found her husband pounding Daisy Upchurch on their bed. Mattie's triumphant smirk turned to a scowl when Holly was not upset. His scowl turned to apprehension when Holly reminded him of the prenuptial agreement they'd signed.

"Uh, we, that? That was in Texas," Mattie said. "This? This is Louisiana; Louisiana's got that Napoleonic code, so that prenup is invalid here in this state."

Penny Jones of Richards, Pellichet & Jones burst into peals of laughter when Holly told her of Mattie's claims. Reviewing the document, Penny and Holly drafted a petition for the dissolution of the marriage between Matthew Goldman and Holly Tannenbaum.

Mattie's lawyer, Parker Johnson was livid when he found out that Holly's inheritance from both mother and father's estates occurred prior to the union. The fifty percent that Mattie could hope to receive was fifty percent of the bills he'd managed to run up.

As for Daisy Upchurch, the afternoon tryst had been nothing more than stress relief. She liked fucking. She had wanted to fuck, Mattie had wanted to fuck. But it had not been love. And, Matthew was not welcome to move into her trailer; she had a young daughter to think of.

Mattie moved back home with his parents. This move put an end to any hope that RWM Strategical Management, LTD. would ever become a viable corporation. The Goldmans vehemently despised Ricky and forbade the arrogant young man entry into their home.

"Okay, hot shot," Vernon Goldman told his son after the second month of Mattie living under their roof. "You? Got two weeks. Fourteen days from right now to find employment, steady, gainful employment, not some pie in the sky pipe dream that God damned user Rickey Hebert sold you. A real job."