A Hot New York Minute

 Marilyn was used to Joe tracking her. She groaned inwardly, knowing Joe would beat the crap out of her and then maybe follow it up with rough sex. But the thing with Joe was, once his blazing hot anger dissipated, things were usually squared between them, and they went on with their lives. Good thing her makeup artist, Whitey, was the wizard he was; most people never saw the cuts and bruises, so they could pretend they weren't there. She really didn't want people seeing who didn't care, and the people involved didn't want to see, either.

The thing with being The Blonde was, everybody wanted sex goddess magic, but nobody wanted human Norma Jeane. It was all about her bombshell body, not her mind or her personality(who she was).


Joe was LIVID! Neither his wife nor her lover had emerged from the bathroom, and his patience was an end!
"I will break down the damned door this minute if the two of you don't come out!", He roared.

Marilyn stepped out of the shower as calmly as she could under the circumstances, and wrapped a white towel around her body. 

She told Frank nervously, "We need to open the door. Trust me, he means it! It'll be worse if we don't. He'll kill both if us! Joe has a terrible temper!"
She was practically begging him at this point.

“I was going to open the door, Marilyn”, Frank said “We can’t exactly stand here all night; we’ll have the whole building wondering what’s going on.”

He stepped forward, unlocked the door, and stepped back again quickly.

Marilyn smiled a little sadly when Frank said something about the whole building knowing. She patted his arm lightly. "They always do when things happen, don't they?"

She took a deep breath and looked down at the floor. Then she walked out of the bathroom in her white towel to face Joe, her angry husband.

Once she was within arm's length of Joe, he gave her a blistering blow to the right side of her face.
It was so strong, it almost knocked her off her feet.
It took her breath away.
He clutched her against him with an iron grip.
"What in the hell do you think you are doing, Marilyn?!", He snarled at her.
Marilyn didn't say anything; she knew better than to utter a word.
Joe shoved her against the wall roughly. 
Marilyn's white towel fell to the floor as he slammed her against the wall. She hit her head hard, and it made a resounding thud.

"I will tell you what I am going to do now, my wife! I am going to firmly establish for you and Frank and the whole damned building just who exactly it is that you belong to, is that clear?"

Marilyn whispered "Yyes". Her throat hurt, so her voice could barely be heard.

Joe glanced over his shoulder at Frank, his eyes darkening. "I'll deal with you later, Frank, and make sure that we come to an understanding about some things."

Frank didn't say anything, but gave an almost imperceptible nod. 

Joe picked her up, carried her to the bed and tossed her on it carelessly, like she was a doll.
"If you move while I am taking my clothes off, I WILL kill you!", He threatened.
Marilyn watched as he undressed. She put a hand up to her already swelling face, and began to cry.

Joe stripped off his clothes quickly and efficiently. 

He sat down on the edge of the bed, beside where Marilyn was curled up in a ball. 

"Turn over on your back and look at me.", he demanded. 

Marilyn slowly eased onto her back. Her  face was swollen, and her right eye was already turning an ugly blue. She trembled a tiny  bit, but she met his eyes. 

He slid atop her quickly, and held her hands at her sides. Marilyn would  have said that there was no need to restrain her at this point, but he did it anyway. 

Joe gave her an iron kiss, even as he roughly forced himself inside her body. His thrusts were the punishment that they were intended to be for Marilyn's body. 

His assault continued, and very quickly her nether regions were raw and hot, as though she had been peppered  and thrown  on a grill.

Joe's angered poured out of him in his thrusts, followed by an explosive ejaculation of volcanic proportions. He groaned with his release, and was out of her, and getting off the bed. 

Marilyn laid motionless on the bed, and watched Joe start to put on his clothes. Tears ran down her face, but she didn't say anything.

"Get dressed.", he told her curtly, without turning around to look at her. When she didn't immediately get up as she was told, he added sternly, "Now."

Marilyn winced as she got up off the bed. Her emotions were as raw as her body. Walking was painful. She picked up the discarded white towel and wiped the remnants of what had just happened with her husband off herself. But in this minute, she would have killed for a shower. 

She donned her lingerie and dress, and slipped her feet into her high-heeled shoes.  She looked at her reflection in the mirror, and ran her fingers through her blonde hair to tame it somewhat, as it had gotten very tousled in the encounter  she'd just experience at Joe's hands. Her face was swelling, and so was her eye. Whitey would have his work cut out for him if she had to do any public appearances for the next week. 

Marilyn hadn't really paid too much attention to what was going on between Joe and Frank, at first. It seemed like they were having a heated verbal exchange. It was when Joe socked Frank solidly that she watched more intently. Frank returned the favor, and they sparred in an angry fist fight that threatened to spiral out of control at any moment. 

Marilyn truly became afraid that the two men might kill one another over her. She came closer to where they were in the room, and begged, "Joe, please stop!!! You might kill him!! Or he might you!! Please stop!"

Even as she risked the possibility that one of them might hit her, she grabbed Joe's arm in hopes of getting him to stop.

Joe's anger was beginning to burn off the smallest amount, and he sighed. Frank had not thrown another punch, and they seemed to have settled the worst of it between them with the fight. 

"OK, ok", Joe said to Marilyn. But he looked at her, and put his hand over hers where it laid on his arm. 

"Let's go home now.", Marilyn said to him. "Come on."

The last thing Marilyn saw when she left the hotel room with Joe was the discard white towel, with blood and semen on it.