Need a Little Company Ch. 09

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the movies or characters from the "Cabin Fever" franchise. All "Cabin Fever" movies and their characters belong to their respective owners. I don't make any money from the writing of this story.

*****

Marcy opened her eyes with a sharp gasp. All she could see was blackness.

It took her a while to remember where she was.

She was in a motel room - not the cabin. The disaster at the cabin was weeks ago. It was over. She'd survived it. She was safe now.

It was only a nightmare.

Her heart was still racing, only now it was racing in terror, not passion.

It only became worse as her mind reorganized the fact she'd just relived from the fiction. Yes, she was safe; "death" was no longer stalking her. But Karen was really dead, and a new life really was growing inside her.

All those emotions she wasn't able to feel in the dream suddenly dropped on her like a shipping container.

For the longest time she was unable to navigate through the confusion of them all. She was extremely distressed, but for no particular reason, and yet, for a million reasons all at once.

Eventually, once she had calmed down, she owned up to herself with scathing honesty. What she had done with Paul in the cabin was *wrong*! Not just because she had slept with him, but because she did it to forget about Karen. And Karen deserved so much better than that!

Karen was sick, dying and probably in pain. Karen was alone and probably so very scared. Marcy was right there and she did nothing. She didn't tend to Karen, she didn't dress her sores, she did nothing to ease her pain. At the very least, she could've kept Karen company; could've talked to her and try to keep her spirits up. But Marcy didn't do any of those things.

But even worse than simply walking away from Karen in the midst of her suffering, Marcy had cruelly carried on like Karen didn't even exist. She seduced Paul without the slightest regard for the hold Karen had upon his heart, nor the indecisive attraction Karen felt for him. She broke the trust of friendship. She even broke her own rules about unsafe sex. All for the sake of finding some distraction that could make her forget that Karen existed. Because being aware of Karen meant being aware of the sickness eating away at her; and Marcy was just too fucking cowardly to deal with that.

But Karen deserved better. Much better.

Now, Marcy found herself in an eerily similar situation. She was so eager to pretend that the baby inside her wasn't there; so willing to forget it. She wanted it to simply go away because it would make her so much happier if it, and all the complications that came with it, simply didn't exist.

That was exactly how she had treated Karen. It broke her heart remembering that she'd rejected her friend like that. Marcy would've given anything to be able to go back in time and undo her selfishness; to do whatever she could to be there for Karen. But she couldn't.

And yet she could. The baby inside her was just like Karen: frail and in need of Marcy's help. If she chose to reject it, it would die. This was a fresh chance for Marcy to be the better person she dearly wished she had been before. This was her chance to do the right thing and help someone who needed her, instead of just tending to her own selfish preferences.

If she kept acting as shamefully as she had in the cabin, if she made a habit of turning her back on others every time they became an inconvenience to her, what kind of shallow, lonely life would that amount to? She was only still breathing because EMTs had come knocking on the cabin door before she got as sick as Karen. What if one day she needed to be rescued and nobody cared enough about her to come to her aid?

The EMTs... The rescue...

It occurred to Marcy that at the moment she left the cabin there were two unwanted parasites inside her body. One was the virus that eventually destroyed Karen: death. The other was the seed that Paul had planted inside her: life. As she had laid on the bed with Paul spooning her from behind she had wished so dearly for life; wished that the sickness would not finish her, even though she felt that that was almost certain to be her fate. And here she was, her wish granted.

Her fortune seemed to turn when her baby was conceived. The disease took Karen, but Marcy and the life inside her were spared. While Marcy couldn't bring herself to believe that the baby had actually saved her life somehow, she nonetheless saw a parallel between their fates. Marcy had been granted the chance to live at the same time as the one inside her.

Now, to callously discard that other life seemed like an insult to everything Marcy had prayed so earnestly for. She had a renewed appreciation for how precious life was. She was immeasurably grateful that hers had been spared. Now, with another life in her own hands, Marcy felt she could do no less then to grant the same mercy.

The thoughts she was having scared her immensely. Her train of thought was taking her somewhere she really, really didn't want to go. Beginning to panic, she tried to recall Paul's counsel from before.

"Nothing you can do can undo the past."

"There's no point torturing yourself because of what we did."

Marcy remembered the words, but the logic suddenly seemed so flimsy. They were words that sounded nice on the surface, but now Marcy knew they were just what she wanted to hear. They came from a point of view that had been distorted to offer her convenience, by obscuring greater truths that she now found impossible to ignore.

She wept as she made the decision with absolute resolve. She would see the pregnancy through.

She wept for all the discomfort it would press upon her. She wept for the hormonal chaos that would assault her. She wept for the fact that it would make her fat and ugly. She wept for all the fun, booze and pot she'd miss out on over the coming months. She wept for the agony of labor she would eventually go through. But most of all, she wept for the way this wrecking ball would turn her life into a shambles.

She couldn't romanticize the thought of holding a gurgling little baby in her arms. The thought of being called "Mommy" made her gag. She most definitely didn't want this baby. She most definitely despised having it inside her. The road ahead of her was not a rollercoaster of highs as well as lows. Carrying this baby was nothing to her but a burden, plain and simple. But it was a burden she simply couldn't shirk.

Marcy let the full weight of her worry over her now daunting future settle upon her. She explored all her uncomfortable thoughts about what this pregnancy would do to her life; often asking poignant questions that she simply didn't have any answers for yet.

She finally let down her defences surrounding the circumstances of the baby's conception and allowed herself to openly confront the realities of the affair. She lamented what she had done, not because it had gotten her pregnant, but because it had been so inhumane. It would've made Paul sick if not for the timely intervention of the EMTs, and it denied Karen.

And at long last, she finally gave herself the opportunity to truly grieve for her dear, departed friend. Up until now, Marcy's tears over Karen's death were largely for herself. She had wept for her own uncertain future, wept for the turmoil of guilt and bitterness that Karen's death had brought up in her, wept for her own trauma from having to watch Karen succumb to the flesh eating disease and wept for the way her own life had been ruined by the same vacation that had killed Karen.

But now she mourned only for the loss of her lovely friend. She mourned for the awful experience Karen must've gone through in her final weeks. She mourned for the loneliness and betrayal Karen must've felt while she was locked in that tiny, dark toolshed all by herself. She mourned for the bright, bubbly glow of Karen's personality that was no longer shining upon the world. And she mourned for the future that Karen had lost, all the exciting, happy and proud moments of life that she never got to have.

With her seemingly endless flow of tears still trickling down on to Paul's shoulder, Marcy said her final goodbyes to her best friend.

Marcy had confronted all the awkward, painful, distressing thoughts that she'd been artfully dodging ever since leaving the cabin, at a growing cost to her sanity. She had accepted that she was pregnant and that she would remain so for another 8 months. She had acknowledged the tragedy of what had happened in those woods, particularly to Karen. She had made a frank and honest confession to herself about her terrible, careless choices and accepted their moral and physical repercussions.

Yet as difficult a process as it was, Marcy was ever mindful of the fact that Paul was right beside her. The slack, yet warm embrace of his arm curled around her; his hip bone settled neatly into the cup of her crotch. Right now, as she was facing all these problems, Marcy wasn't alone and for that she was immeasurably grateful.

Her mind was well aware that Paul was fast asleep, that he had absolutely no idea what she was going through. But that could not diminish the sense that the weight of these heavy matters wasn't resting upon her alone. Someone was there with her in this harsh, frightening moment of reflection and decision. Someone was holding her. That made all the difference in getting her through what would otherwise have been a devastating time.

Eventually, she calmed down. The flow of tears dried up and the barely-audible whimpers fell completely silent. But Marcy was too awake to go straight back to sleep. She spent some time in quiet contemplation. Some of the things she pondered were important, such as her future and how she would manage the pregnancy. But a lot of it was not, such as wondering how friends she'd talked to at dinner were getting along. She also spent a few minutes reflecting on how enjoyable it had been to spend the night with Paul.

Marcy had no idea how long she'd been awake when Paul began to stir, though it felt like somewhere between an hour and an hour and a half.

He lifted his head for a moment, most likely to peek at the clock radio behind Marcy. Then he dropped back onto the pillow with a frustrated huff.

"What time is it?" Marcy asked him.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," Paul quietly apologized.

"It's okay," she replied.

"It's 5.10," Paul sighed, in response to her question.

"Time to go?" Marcy inquired after an ominous moment of silence.

"Yeah," Paul confirmed in the kind of voice people use to describe nuisance chores. "I want to get back home before my family wakes up. Don't want to have to face a bunch of questions about where I spent the night, y'know?"

"No, of course not," Marcy agreed.

Despite Paul's preference to be home nice and early, they continued to lay there in silence, still resting comfortably in the embrace they'd fallen asleep in. They both knew Paul needed to make every effort to keep their fling discreet, but neither of them wanted to see their temporary haven away from reality come to an end.

"One for the road?" Marcy asked him in a gentle, yet eager tone.

"What the hell!" Paul accepted, with a joyless chuckle.

Marcy slid over so that she was completely on top of Paul and found his lips with her own. Paul's loose one-arm embrace became a firm two-arm bear hug as they kissed. Marcy began to massage Paul's pubic area invitingly with her own mons, but made no deliberate effort to tease his cock. With the tone set for sex, she knew it would come to the party in due course.

Paul sat upright, carrying Marcy with him. They kissed for a while longer before he dipped Marcy back a little and leaned in to suckle upon her breasts, with which he was so enamored. Marcy fondled the back of his head as he feasted upon them like a man who hadn't eaten in a week, continuing to slowly rock her hips around on his lap.

As they entered into another prolonged kiss together, Marcy felt the touch of Paul's stiffening maleness against her labia. Marcy had been a little worried that her nightmare might have soured her on having sex so soon. But thankfully, her libido proved to be quite healthy. She found the sensation of his shaft brushing over her opening to be very stimulating and increasingly, she ached to stick all that meat inside her.

Paul departed from her lips once again, to kiss and suckle upon her magnificent tits a second time. Marcy let him have his fill for a time, but when the genital stimulation became too much for her, she lifted his chin with her fingertips and stole a brief, yet firm kiss. While he was distracted, Marcy lifted her hips, allowing Paul's cock to raise just enough for her to align their sexes for penetration. Then with a gentle motion, she dropped on to his fully-erect maleness. Her pussy was saturated with fluid, making the motion as smooth as feeding her arms through the sleeves of a silk blouse.

Paul exhaled in surprise as he suddenly found himself ensnared once again by Marcy's sweet snatch. Then before he could do anything to try and regain control of the exchange, Marcy threw her body weight forwards, pushing him back on to the mattress.

Her hips wasted no time in establishing stable a rhythm of gyrations upon his organ.

This was how it all started; their sexual relationship, that is, along with all the associated problems it had caused. Marcy was on top, riding cowgirl, while Paul simply laid back cooking up the hot, salty broth that would inevitably be splashed upon her pink flesh. Her hips worked vigorously, but not rapidly. Marcy was in no hurry to finish, because once this screw was over, so was her night with Paul, which meant she would be back in the real world again. Though his issues weren't anywhere near as complex, Marcy knew that Paul was in no hurry to make that transition either.

Paul's eyes had adjusted enough to the darkness for him to be able to make out the barest details of Marcy's form heaving to and fro above him. He could make out the thick curtain of dark hair hanging off to one side of her face, bouncing wildly with each motion and the two huge masses of supple femininity jiggling side-to-side mere inches from his face.

His memory easily filled in all the details he couldn't actually see: such as the soft, pink lips, parted just enough to blow out her hot, lusty breath, or those cute, dark little nipples. Apart from the darkness, this was a familiar sight that had haunted his most shameful nightmares over the previous month. This was his precise viewpoint when Marcy robbed him of his virginity.

It was strange. Paul had spent so much of the past four weeks trying to block out that complex memory. While on some level he found it arousing, for the most part he was disturbed and even infuriated by that vivid imagery. Yet now, he would've given almost anything for a way to bring some light to the room, just so he could relive that first fuck in the cabin over again, complete with all its spectacle.

Paul yearned to rise up and taste those mouth-watering breasts once more. But Marcy's hands were pressing her full body weight upon his shoulders, limiting his movement. His arms, however, were still able to reach up and explore her fine figure.

Skirting the upper reaches of her active hips, his hands settled for a moment on the sides of her slender waist, where he marveled at how little distance there was between them. But Marcy's jiggling boobs called to him and before long his hands had latched upon them. He squeezed them with a firm grasp and rubbed them with the flesh of his palms, over and over again. This was all but certain to be the last time he would ever hold these natural wonders; he wanted his experience of their pliant perfection to be complete. He wanted to reinforce this memory so well that he would never be able to forget what Marcy's tits felt like.

Over time, Marcy threw her restraint to the wind. She was in no hurry for the fuck to be over, but this night was all about careless passion and excitement. She figured it was ridiculous to water down their grand finale, instead of going out in spectacular fashion.

Her hips pounded against him faster and faster. The still silence of the room was disturbed by Marcy's loud, heavy panting. Paul was rocked up and down like a castaway on a stormy sea, due to her ever-shifting body weight.

She let his big, hard rod scratch her itch until it drove her crazy. Her body was roasting hot and shivering with pleasure when her stamina crumbled with one final, mighty plunge upon that wonderful stack of maleness. Her arms gave way and she barely had the wherewithal to make her collapse upon Paul a gentle one.

Paul's arms wrapped around her; one encircling her upper back and squeezing her tightly, the other snaking south from the small of her back until it found the yielding curvature of her right buttock. He grasped her posterior affectionately, a couple of his fingers straying into the upper reaches of her crack.

He had cum at some point there; of that Marcy was in no doubt. She couldn't actually feel it, but she knew there was a torrent of semen washing through her abdomen at that very moment. She couldn't have cared less. With a bun already in the oven, she felt like Supergirl: completely bulletproof. Paul's busy little swimmers couldn't possibly do any more damage to her. There was something bizarrely liberating, perhaps even satisfying about that.

They savored the mutual afterglow together in a sensual embrace that lasted a minute or two. Then without a word, Paul rolled Marcy on to the other side of the bed. Marcy didn't resist; she was almost like a rag doll. Her only reaction was a quiet moan that could only be described as post-orgasmic.

Paul sat up on the side of the bed for a second, gathering his strength and resolve, before lumbering reluctantly off to the bathroom.

Marcy heard the switch being flipped and a second later the distant features of the motel room became subtly illuminated by the small amount of white light that was escaping through the crack in the bathroom door.

She began to stir shortly after she first heard the shower running. Between the bathroom light and the glow of the clock radio, Marcy was able to find her pack of cigarettes and lighter without too much difficulty. A twinge of guilt nagged her as she placed the cigarette between her lips and brought the flame up to its tip.

"The night's not over until he leaves," she declared to herself. "Until then, there are no problems, no worries, no commitments; we're just having fun. I don't have to be bothered with being pregnant tonight. That starts in the morning. But not tonight."

She drew in a full breath's worth of hot, soothing smoke and was pleasantly surprised with how effectively she'd silenced her misgivings. Giving the health of her and Paul's baby no further thought. She immersed herself in the simple pleasures of a cigarette and being sexually spent.

As her mind rambled, Marcy realized that there was one final question about her situation that she hadn't faced yet: Paul.

He was going to be a father. Should she tell him?

Marcy was at a loss. She had no idea what to do. Her realization that she would actually be giving birth to this baby hadn't occurred more than two hours ago. Back when abortion seemed like the most likely end to this problem, telling Paul what had happened seemed not only unnecessary, but also stupid. But now the issue was so much more complicated and the best way to handle it was not so clear.

After a minute of mulling over the issue Marcy was only able to come to one conclusion: telling Paul now would only ruin what had been a wonderful night of soothing respite for both of them. After all the comfort she had gotten out of these past few hours with Paul she would hate for it all to end on bitter terms.