Chapter 19

"There's a slumber party tomorrow night," Pete relayed. "Yeah -- why would I tell you if you weren't? With me, of course. I don't know -- I think Michael likes your sister. So? Is there a line? Maybe she should change her mind!"

I watched Pete wade through the minefield, pleased with his level of confidence. Joy was an easy mark, for a female, but a week ago he would have been out of his depth.

"Look, just come over tomorrow night, prepared to spend the night," Pete rasped into the phone. "It'll all be fine. We can talk about all this other stuff then." He handed the phone to Kate. "Women!"

Kate pinched Joy off. "Joy? I need to talk to Gina. You can talk to Pete all night tomorrow night -- just put Gina on the phone."

"I'm gonna need a gag," Pete mumbled.

"That's what cocks are for," I chuckled. "Don't worry about it -- I'm sure you'll find a way to distract her. It's fear. You guys didn't follow through very well, so she's worried that she's just a fuck."

"So? What's wrong with that?"

"Girls generally want something else," I advised. "With a girl, there is always the expectation that you'll come back to the well -- and you'll pay for it, one way or another."

"Do I have to listen to this?" Heather asked, rolling her eyes.

"You can leave," I retorted, "or you can learn something fundamental about the difference between girls and boys." I turned my attention back to the boys. "With us, sex is good clean fun -- but with girls comes the complication of reproduction. If they spread for you there is always the chance that you'll grace them with nine months of disruptive behavior by their own bodies followed by an obligation that lasts for life. That being the case, they look for a little more in the way of an investment. I'm not talking about money, here -- although it tends to end up costing it in fantastic amounts -- I'm talking about affection and protection and support. They want to know that if they start to sprout, you'll be around to help with the result."

"Jeez," Michael grunted, "Who wants to sign in blood for it?"

"Exactly," I nodded. "So it's a delicate negotiation -- especially the first time. If sex didn't have consequences, you could probably stop a girl on the street and fuck on the sidewalk -- they stand to get as much from it as we do and sometimes more. But there ARE consequences, so they're gonna press -- HARD -- to get you to sign their insurance policy. There ARE girls out there who are fuck-buddies -- but you generally know one by the way THEY bring the subject up and let you know all they want is the fuck, up front."

"So," Pete mused, "this crap with Joy..."

"Joy is a lightweight -- you know that. She wants to be cuddled and reassured that the minute you unplug from her you're not going to pretend that you don't know her. She has low self-esteem and more or less expects you to do just that -- but she has hope. You have a couple of choices; you can play her -- string her along while you get yours -- or you can be honest with her. The up-side with Joy is that she's malleable -- you can pretty much define how you want to deal with her and she'll adapt, because you're the only game in town and she's scared to death she'll be knocked out of play. But if you dick her over and she is unhappy about it, eventually, SOMETHING better will come along -- or even something that LOOKS better -- and she'll jump."

"So what do I do?" Pete asked.

"The temptation is to go with the flow and tell her what she wants to hear to make her happy," I advised, "but it isn't fair. Try to make up your mind -- even if it's just for now -- and be honest with her. She's gonna be a clinging vine -- you can enjoy it or you can hate it. If you enjoy it, it can be serious medicine for your ego -- but if it gets tiresome, shit hits the fan pretty quickly."

Pete grimaced. "Will it go on forever?"

"Well, probably not," I mused. "She'll probably grow some confidence eventually and get her legs under her. Then you'll probably wish she hadn't." I grinned. Turning to Heather, I asked, "Did I tell any lies?"

Heather frowned. "No, I guess not. So with guys, it's all about the sex?"

"Well, Hon, sex is more important to guys -- although I think girls enjoy it more, just because they deny themselves," I explained. "Guys -- especially guys your age -- are always about to boil over; nature has provided them with an almost inexhaustible supply of little babymakers under pressure to get out. Males don't have the instinct to seek protection for their offspring you have, either -- they were given the imperative to hit as many targets as they can. The purpose is the same -- propagation of the species -- but they're in charge of planting seeds and you're in charge of farming and harvesting. It's a different mindset. It's why guys cheat -- it's almost instinctive. I'm not making excuses, I'm just stating fact -- if a girl waves it in front of a guy, he's gonna bite -- it's his job to plow any woman who will let him. His brain shuts down and his dick starts thinking for him and he climbs in the saddle. Afterwards, he'll probably remember that he has other commitments, but the damage will be done. Similarly, it's pretty easy to hold a guy -- you just need to make yourself available to take the overflow on a regular basis so he doesn't have to wander, and generally he'll step up to the plate and give you what YOU want. But a lot of women think that marriage and motherhood is the goal, and once it's accomplished, everything is easy street -- and they forget that he's STILL producing that overage of babymakers and if she decides she's done, he WILL find another place to put them! Welcome to divorce!" I shrugged. "Am I oversimplifying things? Maybe. There is love and honor and duty and all that stuff. But look around -- I've just described the default behavior. Do you know the difference between men cheating and women cheating?"

Heather blinked. "No."

"With women, it's about having someone else steal their shot at motherhood. It's about losing their stability and their protection. It's about the asshole guy reneging on a contract to take care of her and their kids and wandering off to poke some slut who might end up with a call on his resources -- meaning she'll have to share, at best, or lose out, at worst. Guys, on the other hand, usually get pissed because they've SIGNED that contract in order to reap the benefits -- and in many cases, they're STILL not getting enough, but they're trying to settle -- and the little bitch involved is letting someone else use the facilities he's paying for."

"You make it sound like we're a collection of holes for guys to stick their penises in!" Heather groused.

"If you take away some of the finer emotions associated with it and boil it down to biological essentials, that's the case," I replied. "Now, without those finer emotions, sex is just masturbation with a body, but when we're talking about base motivations and biology, that's what you get. If a guy comes up to you in a club, what is your first assessment of his motives?"

Heather pursed her lips. "He wants in my panties."

I nodded. "And you would be correct. Frankly, in most cases, if he didn't have that imperative, he wouldn't bother with you -- women are notoriously cantankerous beasts -- grasping, bossy, harder to control than herding cats -- it's probably why we were allowed more or less direct means of control over most of history. We just don't have the tools to spend a lot of time making you happy by guessing at and then fulfilling your little wants and needs. Giving you a quick swat upside the head so you settle for what you've got is a damned sight easier." I chuckled. "Look around -- all the rules that have been put in place to protect women's equality has virtually killed dating among adults -- now you have to go to an online dating service -- which is an admission by the female that she REALLY DOES want a man -- to lend any degree of safety to dating." I shook my head. "It's also one of the reasons that homosexuality is on the rise -- people of your own gender understand your needs and are more likely to sympathize and put up with them -- particularly if they, too, are unsatisfied. Homosexual males can get sex fairly easily from another homosexual male -- without strings, because their mutual interest is unloading excess jizz. They can -- and do -- do it totally anonymously. Neither of them is going to be likely to ask for an emotional commitment -- it isn't required. If they do, it's because they think they've got a good thing going and want to keep it. Lesbians will get their cuddle and mutual protection and fulfillment in each other's arms. Frankly, the sex isn't optimal in either case, since nothing is being put where it belongs, but they just reorient themselves by saying 'but it's so much easier -- so much better...' and they live with the substitutes."

Heather shivered. "That's a cold and ugly viewpoint."

I shrugged. "It's based upon observation and experience. Look at your mother..." I changed the subject. "You girls need to get your party organized." With that, I attempted to escape.

Amy blocked my path. "Uh uh. You need to finish this seminar, Cletus. Enquiring minds want to know."

"Look," I replied, "I'm just saying that men and women have different needs and goals, and that while they ARE complementary, it sometimes doesn't seem like it. Recently, we've put some things in place as a society that sound wonderful, but they lead to relationship issues involving gender roles."

Amy cocked her head. "What?"

I looked around. Everyone else was hooked, too. I sighed. "Let's settle in and relax, and I'll try to explain the world according to Cletus." Amy and Kate basically pushed Michael off his lounger so they could both occupy it -- so he moved to a straight chair, and Heather settled into the third in the set, Pete holding the second. "Marriage. Marriage is designed to be a partnership that capitalizes on gender roles -- that set of complementary needs and goals between guys and gals. But recently, we've handed a bunch of male roles to gals and we've removed any redress to the situation by guys. Now guys are signing that contract and discovering that it has no teeth -- or worse -- it HAS teeth, but only to bite HIM with. That's largely because in some places the legal system hasn't caught up with society, either, and laws put in place to protect gals from abuse back when they had no other protections are being used to extract more than their fair share of things now. Now, you can talk about getting even and the pendulum swinging and all that bullshit, but the fact is that males coming up now didn't do a damned thing to deserve what they're getting -- or what they're NOT getting. It's similar to the myth that whites owe blacks for the slavery gig -- whites might have enslaved blacks, but that was THEN and people living NOW didn't have shit to do with it."

I caught myself. "But I digress. Part of the current problem is the universal push for self-actualization -- everybody is told that they should get theirs and fuck everybody else. But married people enter into a partnership and have responsibilities to each other. Complicating this is the gender role thing. Let me see if I can explain -- realize, now, that this is the male viewpoint -- but most of the changes have been about how females are dealt with, so I don't think it's THAT skewed. Use your own judgment."

The disclaimer out, I proceeded, "Guys and gals meet because they are attracted to one another -- usually a big component of this is physical, especially at the start. Two people meet at a club, they dance, they talk, they feel each other up, they like what they see and hear and feel and they move on to dating and sleeping together and so on. The sleeping together thing is important -- women know this instinctively, so they play it, using it as a tool, withholding it or granting it according to the situation. Oh, sure, it gets away from them, romantically or physically, but ultimately, it's their primary weapon -- and if she puts it out there when she has to and makes it attainable but not too simple -- meaning not without commitment -- she'll probably reel the guy in. Marriage ensues, and everything is rosy. They build a home together and maybe she gets pregnant and all is right with the world." I paused a moment and sat back.

"But here is where society has torqued things. Back in the caveman days, the male was in charge of putting food on the table and the female was in charge of making sure he had a place to come home to, the food got made edible, and a shitload of kids got punched out to take some of the workload off both of them. Part of that set of duties was rolling over and spreading her legs for the old man to get the only jollies the world allowed him before TV. Now, evolution is a wonderful thing, but societies evolve faster than species; men haven't changed all that much, and to be fair, neither have women -- but society has, and it has mapped roles for both sexes that are very different than what we have programmed. Women work outside the home -- many HAVE TO -- and this means that there is no one AT home to take care of the home fires. Women are told that they need to compete with men -- and there are leftover rules on the books that tend to make it possible to win..."

I scratched my razor stubble. "So we come back to our happy couple. They're infatuated with each other. Everything seems rosy. But time and altered circumstances come into play. She works -- she has to, because he's in an entry-level job and they couldn't eat if he didn't. But when they come home, he wants her to cook, too. Uh oh... Maybe they get past that. She gets pregnant -- and again, everything is rosy, because guys find pregnant chicks to be incredibly sexy. The reason is simple -- he can point to her belly and say, 'I'm a man -- I did my job, see?' But after the birth, we again have problems. You see, the woman is more than likely to see that some of her major goals in the relationship have been met at that point, and the priority is now on motherhood. She doesn't want to work outside the home -- she now has a full-time job INSIDE the home and she's very happy with her lot -- because the whole little house with a white picket fence and two point five kids is well in hand. HE, on the other hand, has to take a second job to cover her lost wages. With motherhood in the forefront and the realization of a good many of her spoken and unspoken goals, she is fat, dumb, and happy -- sometimes literally -- but HE is suddenly seeing zero return on his now massive investment! You see, the sex that was a part of their initial chemistry and a basic part of the contract between them has been withdrawn -- the kids interrupt all the time, or she's tired, and so on. He's tired, too, from working two jobs; he doesn't want to chase it and put up with a bunch of crap and make three hours worth of preparations -- he wants mama to roll over and put out. And there are added dimensions; remember when I told you that papa thought pregnancy was cool? Well, it was cool when she was swollen with child, but when she's still swollen six months after the kid has left the womb, that's not as cool. Remember that physical attraction is a big draw, here -- and now it's greatly reduced. Add to that the fact that she's happy with where she is and complacent and not trying to do anything about getting that attraction back -- maybe even working at being less enticing in order to avoid all that tiring sex -- and things are crap for the male. The female is NOT performing her duties according to the contract -- but since those duties are not carefully specified -- 'cleave unto thee only' is still fulfilled as a promise if she cleaves unto NOBODY -- society jumps in and tells him he has no right to expect what he got into the contract for in the first place. If you go eight weeks without and decide not to take no for an answer, you end up in jail for raping your wife, because 'no means no'. She's a happy, devoted mother who is queen of all she surveys, thoroughly self-actualized according to society's model, and he is a stiff working two jobs and coming home to a fat bitch who won't even put out -- and he has NO RECOURSE! Divorce ensues -- and he gets the knife AGAIN, because marriage is the only contract where the non-performing party can extract a penalty for the rest of her life for having the contract broken." I sat back. "I honestly cannot recommend marriage under any circumstances in this day and age."

Amy scoffed. "That's just one scenario."

I nodded. "There are variations on the theme. There is also the 'Mr. Mom' scenario -- which puts the male in a position of having to assume female gender roles in order to support the female assuming male ones. Sometimes that works -- but he probably didn't buy into it. Once again, this is society scrambling gender roles because we're trying to be fair to the female and recognize her talents. Now, I'm not saying that this is a bad thing -- I'm just saying that it has unintended consequences. Girls in particular need to realize that if they're not prepared to continue doing those things that brought them a mate more or less indefinitely, then at some point, they'll lose that mate. Maybe they'll get nice, fat alimony and child support checks to replace him, but getting a replacement mate won't be NEARLY as easy. The irony here is that she'll end up going on Weight Watchers ANYWAY and pulling her shit back together or she won't find that replacement -- or if she does, what she'll end up with and put up with will be a whole lot less enjoyable than the original model."

"There are ways of sharing the load," Heather insisted.

"You mean like democracy?" I asked. "Doesn't work. Either the male is clearly in charge or the female loses respect for him. Since society has pulled all of the male's teeth, the female ends up in charge. Shit rolls downhill, because she's busy getting what she wants and ignoring what HE wants."

Amy snickered. "You make it sound simple," she chuckled. "If you want to stay married, have sex twice a week."

"Actually, it's almost that simple," I agreed. "That's probably sixty percent of it. The other forty is trying to look decent and occasionally deferring to him -- preferably in public, so he can save face." I sighed. "Easier than that is what they still call 'living in sin'. You see, without the contract -- which is useless to the male, anyway, since nothing in it grants him any protections at all -- both parties tend to pay attention to what it takes to keep the other happy. The element of uncertainty keeps things fresh. When he can just up and leave, you're more likely to notice when he's crabby because you haven't played with his cock in a few days. When he has no legalized commitment to you and his eyes start to wander, you pick it up and decide maybe it's time to go out and buy some new lingerie or go work out at the gym and get rid of that roll that keeps you in one-piece bathing suits. Similarly, when the result of a really bad fight is somebody's clothes scattered all over the lawn and him having his supply of pussy cut off, he works a bit more at being accommodating."

An unexpected voice behind me said, "I'm surprised that you're feeding them this line..."

I gathered myself after jumping a foot to turn and regard Cindy, "YOU are a prime example of the situation at work!" I accused. "In case you haven't figured out what's going on around here, part of it is shaking you loose from total control of your relationship with Ed! Ed gave you control of things without even realizing it -- largely because society told him that he should. You took advantage of it -- again, because society said you should and because there was a power vacuum. You're living proof that democracy doesn't work in a relationship."

"That's BS!"

"Is it?" I eyed her. "How many mistakes have we surfaced in the past couple of days that come from you wandering around with fucked-up ideas in your head? You mistook Ed's granting you latitude to handle domestic issues that he didn't want to be bothered with for a grant of total control -- and society allowed you to make it stick. But you know what? You've overreached yourself and society won't back you now, so Ed has an opportunity to get control back. He's too nice a guy to hold a gun to your head -- but guess what? He doesn't have to -- I'm more than happy to oblige."

"So you're going to blackmail me for the rest of my life?" Cindy burst out.

"Something like that," I agreed amicably. "The trick is, if you behave yourself -- and you'll learn to, eventually -- you'll never even notice. Habit will kick in and no one will ever have to say anything about it."

"I can't have you making me do crazy things all the time!" Cindy howled.

"And it isn't going to happen that way," I replied blandly. "I don't have that kind of attention span. All that is necessary is for you to remember that you don't have the ultimate control, here -- that someone else is capable of making you fold your hand when you play poker whether you want to or not. Ed doesn't even have to play the card -- because you KNOW he's holding it. That's all it's going to take -- you'll learn to defer to him and accommodate him, and pretty soon it will be second nature and you'll forget why. The good news for you is that Ed WON'T abuse it like I would, so you won't have to resent him. In fact, you'll have ME to resent -- and I'm good with that." Cindy shut up -- but I knew it wasn't over.

"So Mom is..." Kate began carefully.

"Old school," I finished for her, switching gears. "She's perfectly comfortable with the rules Ugh laid out for his woman Thud after he bashed her noggin with his club the first time and she woke up with his dick in her. This is NOT the model of current society, so she's had a difficult time finding someone who will accommodate it despite the fact that so many people are standing in line to tell us it is wrong."

"Is it wrong?" Kate asked.

"No, merely different," I replied. "One of the positive aspects of current society is the ability to differentiate between 'different' and 'wrong'. I'm not going to tell you it is right, either -- but her mode has been around a lot longer than the current one."

"Why do you insist on treating me like Karen?" Cindy burst out.

"That's a fair question, Cindy," I told her. "Why don't we go somewhere private and I'll answer it for you."

"Why not do it here?"

"I'm looking to save you some embarrassment," I replied. "Certainly, if you insist..."

"No..." Cindy stood there, thinking furiously. "Maybe we should talk elsewhere."

"My office?" I got up. "School is out. I hope someone learned something. Take the whole thing with a grain of salt, but remember I've been around twice as long as most of you. Come along, Cindy."

We went inside and back to my office and I waved her onto the loveseat. "Okay, frank talk. There are a couple of reasons why I'm putting you though your paces. First, if I abuse the shit out of you, you'll get used to being under the thumb and it'll be easier on Ed. Ed's a nice guy -- but as I've indicated, the rules don't favor guys at all, let alone nice ones. I'm going to break you in so that he won't have to. Does that make sense?"

"I guess," she admitted. "What's to stop me from...?"

"In the first place, there's the fact that he STILL holds the cards. In the second, if I do my job correctly, it won't occur to you to try -- the results will be too painful to contemplate."

"Oh." Her look said she anticipated pain. "What are you going to do?"

"In detail?" I asked. "I don't know. But I know the intended result, and when you get there, I'll know it."

"What's the second reason?"

"You're attracted and repelled by your sexual fantasies. You've convinced yourself they're horrible -- but you want to experience them, anyway. You live in a little dark box put in place by people who caused you to fear doing wild and crazy shit. I'm opening the box and MAKING you do wild and crazy shit, so you'll realize that it is fun as long as no one gets hurt. This will reduce both the fear and the attraction and help you control your urges. This is actually a situation somewhat similar to Karen's, so similar treatment is justified."

"I never know when you're bullshitting me," Cindy muttered.

"That's because you spend a lot of time hoping I am and then discover belatedly that I'm not," I replied. "I like to put things baldly -- that doesn't mean they aren't true." I looked at my watch. "Ed will be home soon, and he instructed you to have his dinner on the table, so you're going to have to hurry..." I dropped my shorts. "Blow me."

She looked up at me, disgusted. "Why?"

"Because you have no choice."

"Dammit, Cletus! Ulp!" She had her mouth open so I fed her my dick; nothing she was going to say was relevant, anyway.

"Put your hands behind your back," I directed. "You can use them to bring me additional pleasure, if and when you grow the sense to try -- but you can't use them to control me. It's your job to accommodate me and to take a load of my jizz, period. Don't bother talking, because it gets in the way of what you're doing and pisses me off, which will get my dick jammed down your throat worse than it is." Cindy stopped making gargling noises, but her hands were still all over the place, so I took her by the top of the head and by the jaw and started forcing. "Hands behind your back! Now!" It sank in after another second or two, and she obeyed. "Now, the more effort you put into this and the sooner you stop worrying about you and start working on my pleasure, the sooner this will be over," I told her. "Piss me off and I'll fuck your throat -- make an effort and I'll let you drive." She settled down some and started trying, so I backed off and cajoled her, "Come on, you know how to give head -- now you need to work on your attitude. Look up at me with those big eyes of yours and make me believe you WANT to!"

It took her fifteen minutes; I'm not fast to get off from head, anyway. "Now, the next time you blow Ed," I told her, "you need to act like you're doing it because you want to, not because it's easier than fucking or you're doing him a favor. If necessary, you can visualize it like this -- he's your old man and you want him happy, because if he isn't and he puts you on the street, I'll put you on a corner downtown to give blowjobs for twenty bucks a pop and beat the shit out of you any night you don't bring home a hundred bucks. How's THAT for an image?"

"A little too clear," she rasped through a sore throat.

"Git. You have a dinner to cook. I'll see you later." I hauled her to her feet and pushed her out the door. Then I had second thoughts. "Come back here a moment."

Cindy retraced her steps -- not without a certain amount of trepidation. "Yes?"

"I thought I would add to that little scenario, because it will be instructive for you to work your way through the implications. You want to keep Ed happy. Why? Because you can be replaced. I can lend him Karen, or Amy might volunteer, or we might bring in some other piece who has an interest in him if he wants a fresh start. If he decides you're a pain in the ass and sues for divorce, you're gonna end up here -- do you know why? Because you won't be asking him for alimony or anything -- you'll end up limiting yourself to a suitcase full of your shit, because if you press him, he'll produce that DVD -- or I will -- and you won't have to worry about alimony in the penitentiary. If you move in here -- and I won't let you go anywhere else -- I'll use you like toilet paper -- guaranteed. There are two dog kennels downstairs -- one of them is Karen's -- care to guess who will occupy the other?"

"You..." she gobbled, white-faced.

"Would," I finished for her. "Mess with me and I'll lend you out to street gangs for entertainment. I'll put rings in your nipples and hang you from the ceiling by your tits!" I stopped myself. "Get out of here before I get so excited by one of these ideas that I try to sell it to Ed!"

She got. For all I know she ran to her place naked.