Chapter 25
Some Girls Set Up to go Dear Hunting

The Darla Jean Nevins that showed up at school on Monday was not the same one who had left the previous Friday, and a number of people noticed. Oh, the clothing was the same -- but the presentation was different. Her shirt was still shapeless, but it was open another button, for instance. Her slacks rode lower -- or did they? Maybe it was all attitude... Darla Jean's habitual impenetrable reserve wasn't there; her camouflage had apparently either been shut off or otherwise wasn't working. She actually engaged people in conversation, on a number of occasions, which increased her visibility quite a bit. And there was something else, something not immediately definable.

Peggy Ellis remarked on it first, while stooping to adjust the buckle on her shoe. Peggy wore heels to help define her legs, which she also tended to display, because they were decent for her rather rotund shape. Her round breasts tended to be on display, too, which she considered to be sensible advertising, given her generally hefty build. "Okay, Darla Jean, what's up with you? That's the third time in ten minutes I've caught you openly scoping a boy's buns..."

"I, ummmm, learned a new appreciation for them," Darla Jean replied.

Peggy eyed her -- well, maybe friend was too strong a word. More than an acquaintance, certainly... "Does that mean what I think it means?" Peggy was no stranger to sex, although the list wasn't lengthy. Her most recent capture had been August Lippmann, the exchange student, after the prom -- but she'd been in too much of a hurry, trying to nail him down, and he'd run, after...

"Yeah, probably," Darla Jean agreed, staring across the quad at the jocks. The big problem with having sex was that things got even worse, afterward, she mused. Before you've done it, you paint all kinds of romantic images, and your glands get mixed up with it and things are unbearable. But after you've done it the first time, the romance drops away, replaced by the pure physical itch to have all that wonderful, addictive pleasure again...

Peggy interrupted her musings with, "You had sex? With who? How was it?"

"Yeah, I did. I'd rather not say with who, because you'd probably laugh -- but he was surprisingly good."

"Are you sore? I usually am, after..."

Darla Jean shrugged. "I was, a bit, yesterday -- but it was a good sore. Like an itch -- I want to scratch it..." Her eyes hadn't shifted from the jocks.

"Yeah." Peggy's tone reflected shared experience -- and shared hunger. "Well, you keep ogling like that, and you'll probably attract attention."

"Good," Darla Jean replied. "Hiding took me too long."

"Well, if you start acting like you're aware of sex, they'll start sniffing around. If you don't do the big, 'I'm on display, don't you want to be seen with me?' thing, it'll happen even quicker -- but you might get a rep, if you're not careful," Peggy advised.

Darla Jean laughed. "Well, I'm out of the drone shop -- but I don't think I want to be a queen, yet..."

"Ewwwww, you and bugs..." The bell rang, and the pair moved off to class.

Randall found his status just as hard to hide, among males; among females, he was generally beneath notice, so it would take longer to penetrate. Those few in the Brain Trust who weren't already in on the particulars, (those that were tended to sit around within earshot and grin conspiratorially, but offer very little beyond bare confirmation of Randall's claims), detected Randall's cocky attitude quickly and pumped him, eliciting a more and more colorful description of the incident that Randall nonetheless attempted to maintain the anonymity of his partner throughout. Most present could put two and two together, however, and only a convention of politeness kept Darla Jean's name from being mentioned directly. Chivalry was a concept familiar to the Brain Trust, who practiced it religiously, hoping to attract the grateful regard of a female -- and not realizing that self-effacement in someone only barely visible in the first place was at odds with their goals. The old adage that 'nice guys finish last' applies to chivalrous acts with a vengeance.

Nonetheless, Monday morning found Randall feeling extremely cocky; if he managed to attract any feminine attention before the whole thing wore off and became but a fond memory, the burst of self-confidence might stand him in good stead. The chances of that happening were slim, however; if girls his age were looking for 'intelligence' there would be a lot more credit in his account than the current undefined coin of 'coolness' allotted him, despite the fact that 'coolness' had no defined reference standard or exchange rate. The good news? The burst of self-confidence added credit to his 'coolness' account, maybe even bringing him to the minimum balance...

Sexual relationships tended to be a seller's market, and market pressures tended to drive the desperate of both sexes together. Peggy, alerted to the fact that there was a fresh convert out there, reversed the mental calisthenics of the Brain Trust, discovering Randall from Darla Jean's hints and his altered demeanor. Being the first woman on the ground with the information might net her the brass ring, this time; Peggy's criteria weren't the same as those of her more display-oriented colleagues. Okay, Randall was hard to talk to, and he wasn't a jock, but the girl who finally deigned to land him would make out like a bandit, Peggy figured. The fact that the likes of Darla Jean had found Randall to be sexually adequate added to his value to Peggy, raising him above the level of the other leavings while maintaining an aura of attainability -- in other words, Randall suddenly made the 'sweet spot' of Peggy's shopping list, the area where something was both attainable and worth having. Since that raised her current number of candidates all the way to one, she lost no time bringing her weapons to bear. "Hi, Randall!"

"Hi." Randall watched, bemused as Peggy put a hand on the lockers for support and bent forward while she fiddled with the back strap of her heels, dropping the deep cleavage between her 36DDs into alignment before his startled eyeballs. Peggy was chunky -- florid -- even porky, perhaps, but she got a pair of big, round, pink-nippled breasts out of the deal, and she was well aware of their value as a weapon.

Peggy operated somewhat below Randall's sweet spot, viewed objectively, but that assumed that he had to work at communication. Having her come to him skewed things somewhat. So when she asked, "Hey, I'm having trouble in Chemistry. Do you think you could tutor me?" the answer was obvious.

"Chemistry?"

"Yeah. You've had Chem, right?"

"Yeah, AP Chem."

"So, can you help me with molar volumes? I can't figure out where they're coming from." Peggy was still working at her shoe, looking up at Randall.

Randall, on the other hand, was trying to use the same pair of eyes to engage hers while simultaneously mapping the valley between her breasts. "Uh, yeah, sure. When?"

"Um, well, timing's an issue. I've got homework due tomorrow and a quiz later this week. Tonight?" Timing WAS an issue; if she was going to set her hooks without competition, the sooner, the better... Peggy contrived to wriggle her shoulders a bit, and Randall lost the ability to support a pretense that he wasn't watching her breasts. 'Thank God for tits!' she thought.

Randall got control of his eyes, finding Peggy's to be somewhat cynically amused. "Uh, okay. Where?"

"My house?"

"Sure."

Peggy scratched her address and phone number on a sheet of paper and ripped it out of her steno pad. "Here ya go. Say, six?"

Randall shrugged. "Okay."

"See you then." Peggy moved off.

"What was that all about?" Randall mumbled to himself.

"First fruits of your new rep as a stud, I'd guess," Jimmy Hightower chuckled beside him.

"Chemistry? I dunno."

"Body chemistry, Man. Peggy and Darla talk. She's probably trying to edge out the competition."

"Jeez, I dunno..." 'Do I even want to go there?' Randall wondered.

Toby Brillsteen leaned in, "A missed piece of ass is irreplacable, Man. You can't bank 'em for another day. If you try, it only means that you get one when you coulda got two..."

"Peggy's is gonna be a bit more work to get to than, uh, your last partner's..." Jimmy remembered that Toby didn't know who Randall had laid in mid-sentence.

"You been getting some?" Toby asked, amazed.

"I got lucky the other night," Randall confirmed.

"Really? Can I ask who? Wasn't Peggy, I'm betting..."

"No, you can't ask, and no, it wasn't Peggy." Randall replied shortly. Some dudes just had no manners.

"Musta been Mrs. Hufnagel..."

"Jeezus Christ!" Randall exploded. Beatrice Hufnagel, the English Lit teacher, was sixty, fat, and notoriously prudish. "Not even in a nightmare!"

Jimmy started laughing. "I could have done without THAT image!"

"So, who was it?" Toby prodded.

"A gentleman doesn't tell. But it was a girl, not a -- Jeez, I don't even know what species Hufnagel is!" Randall ranted, his dignity wounded.

"Yeah, sure... Hmmmmm, Fat Mary's taken... If it wasn't Fat Mary, I'd be complaining about brothers hunting white girls, but..."

"What about Teddy?" Jimmy interjected.

"Stick probably ties him up and makes him watch, or something," Toby guessed.

Randall and Jimmy shared a startled glance; THAT image opened up new vistas... "Nah," Jimmy replied. "I've spent time with Teddy, and seen the change. He's getting laid all right. That means Mary's keeping two dicks wet, which makes her all right in my book..."

Toby waved dismissively. "Porky Peggy's better than that shit."

"You're talking from experience, then?" Randall prodded.

"Well, no, but I hear it's okay," Toby backpedaled. Randall merely grunted. Toby was all talk...

Raoul Hernandez sat in his hotel room with his new boss, Mr. Jacobson. "So, when do I go in to the office?"

Jacobson scratched his head. "Well, I want to get a little added value out of you first," he drawled.

"Que?" Raoul blinked. "What? I don't understand..."

Jacobson grinned. "Everybody knows everybody in this town, but you're a fresh face. That's why I've kept you away from the office -- if you came in, you'd be identified with Wilson Enterprises. Before that happens, I want you to do a couple of things, things that will come out of left field where our competitors are concerned, because they won't be looking for you. Get me?"

"Yeah."

Jacobson opened his briefcase and extracted some blueprints. "This is the layout of the local Waverley Oaks office. We got a tip that there is a way to mess up their distribution schedule by replacing a file on this system." He pointed to an office workstation. "We've got a copy of the data, and I've altered it just enough to fuck 'em up. Are you any good with computers?"

"Well, I've used one..."

"Can you do something simple like find a file on a hard disk and replace it with one from this floppy?"

"Si. Yes." Raoul paused. He wasn't THAT good... "I might want to practice..."

"We'll rent a system in the business center downstairs and practice." 'Perfect', Jacobson thought. 'This should fly pretty well.' "Getting in and out is the hard part," he added. "We'll go over that, now." The two started examining access methods and guard patrol schedules. Raoul's ego swelled; always before, he'd had to follow someone else's direction -- but this would be solo! He would PROVE his worth!

Dwayne Hanson glanced up for the fourth time at the top of the one set of fold out bleachers open in the gym during basketball practice. "Hey, how come Darla Jean's up there?"

"Dunno," Ted Phipps drawled, "Lookin' for oxygen, maybe?" Everybody in earshot chuckled.

"I'm serious, Man. If I didn't know better, I'd swear she was watching the game..." Everybody knew that Darla Jean didn't think much of jocks; something about 'inflated egos' and 'low IQ'.

"Well, you never know," Rob Graham quipped. "Maybe the ice has melted." It had happened before, and they'd all seen it. Sometimes it was like flicking a switch; a heretofore asexual girl suddenly started noticing boys. And sometimes, they went totally ga-ga...

"Think she'd be any good?" Dwayne wondered aloud.

Ted almost dropped the ball. "Think about the game, Man, not pussy!" He started trying to worm his way around a guard.

Dwayne got into it for a bit, but the thing was riding him. When the ball went out of play, he glanced up at the stands -- and met Darla Jean's eyes. Both looked away, quickly.

"Hel-looo..." Rob chuckled. "What the fuck?"

"Just thinkin'," Dwayne replied. "If Darla Jean's up and running, maybe I'll give her a test drive..." Dwayne wasn't exactly a stranger to sex; his athletic prowess had netted him a couple of run-ins with the hopeless, and there'd been that memorable bout with a cheerleader who would remain nameless because she had a steady, but whose excess consumption of drugs and alcohol at the victory party had gotten her poked by just about everyone on the team. Dwayne wasn't really sure why he wasn't doing better, but there it was -- basically, his couple of conquests weren't chicks he wanted to be seen in public with. Darla Jean might be a step up...

"Well, you could do that, I guess," Rob hazarded. "She isn't much to look at, and she's gonna be a librarian when she grows up, but it IS pussy." Rob could afford to be disparaging; he had been Prom King, and it was with good reason. The captain of the football team had HIS pick of the 'A' list girls. Current rumor said Mary Eikenberry wasn't just being publicly mushy with him, she was oiling his dick regularly, too. And red-headed Mary was USDA Grade A shit, too...

"Hey, I'd be doing her a favor..."

"Yeah, right," Ted snickered. "Maybe you better call for backup..."

Practice went on, and Dwayne checked on Darla Jean regularly. And more and more regularly, her eyes were there, looking back...

Darla Jean was hunting, more or less cold-bloodedly. Randall had been VERY good -- but she needed to know if he represented the standard or not. Tales she got before the incident said he might be better than average, but who knew? Basketball practice seemed like a good place to get a look at a few boys... There were some nice buns down there on the floor, and a bit of banter once she was noticed, but she couldn't really hear it. She shifted back and forth between her homework and scoping buns, wondering if she was attracting any attention.

Relatively quickly, it became apparent that she had Dwayne's. Ted was flashing an occasional glance her way, but she didn't care for his supercilious expression. Dwayne's eyes kept coming back, though, and Darla Jean encouraged him by looking back, which just increased the incidence. Darla Jean basked in the pleasure that this brought her, this unaccustomed feeling of having a fish actually nibble at her lures. Maybe this stuff wasn't so hard, after all... She WAS amazed at how obvious it appeared that you had to be to get anything across...

Well, tonight wasn't good timing, no matter how nice it might feel. Darla Jean collected her things and left as the boys hit the showers. She decided to let Dwayne stew a bit and see if HE came to HER; things still didn't appear to go the other way, women's lib notwithstanding.

In the locker room, Rob rounded on Dwayne, "Where WERE you, Man? You got worthless to try to pass to..."

Ted laughed. "He's lookin' for pussy! Darla Jean Nevins is suddenly giving him the eye!"

"C'mon, Man, you think she's serious?" Rob chided.

"Well, she was looking back. A lot. She's up to something..." Dwayne defended himself.

Rob shrugged. "I've never been impressed..."

"Hey, pussy's pussy!" Ted chuckled. "Maybe Dwayne can teach her to deep throat! Maybe there's a slut in there!"

Rob snorted, but Dwayne ventured, "Won't hurt to find out. I don't have Mary Eikenberry gobbling MY meat..."

"Easy," Rob warned. "There's more to it than that. The big thing about Mary is that, good as she looks, she's not all JUST about looks. That makes her a BIG improvement over Claudette. I don't treat her like my personal slut, either -- and I'd appreciate it if you assholes didn't make noises like I do."

Ted was dubious. "So, like you're trying to sell me on the idea that you're hung up on her? What about Bang Nation out there? You haven't stopped fucking strange..." Rob's premiere position in the local pecking order made him such a catch that he seldom went without gratification. The other guys called the cluster of 'B' and 'C' class girls slavering after him 'Bang Nation', chuckling at Rob's tales of some poor thing abasing herself to make her grab at the brass ring of popularity.

Rob shrugged. "Bang Nation is doing without, since Prom night. One of you guys needs to step up to the plate and give 'em someone to drop their pants for..."

Ted looked comically aghast, and Dwayne shook his head, laughing. Neither of them could command the popularity Rob did; Bang Nation was going to be out of luck, it looked like. Neither of them could admit the fact, but both knew that they just didn't have it. Still, when the girls realized and started scrabbling, one or both might get lucky... "You shitting me?" Ted asked. He couldn't imagine putting the caboose on the gravy train Rob had, now that Claudette was out of the way. Hell, Rob had been quietly banging chicks behind Claudette's back since forever...

"A steady thing with Grade A shit versus an off and on set of Grade B and C stuff? Do the math, fuckhead." Rob retorted. "If I need more, I'll talk Mary into it, some way -- but it hasn't been necessary, yet!" Rob wasn't thrilled that suddenly Mary had a rep all over school, but it wasn't his fault. Mary had collected him soon after his noisy breakup with Claudette on the dance floor at the Prom, just listening initially while he ranted and raved, but slowly offering more and more comfort and support. By the time three a.m. came around, a little beer had lubed them both and the pair were kissing; things went very little further on Prom Night, but they'd already exceeded anything Claudette ever offered. All last week, things had slowly built; Rob found himself spending more and more time with Mary, and getting more and more in the way of rewards for it. Where Claudette only allowed Rob inside the boundaries of her personal space in public, Mary seemed content to allow his hands to wander more and more in private, while maintaining basically the same standard as Claudette in public. Friday night, they'd had sex in Rob's Jeep Cherokee, up at the overlook. The windows were open, and Mary came LOUDLY, wailing Rob's name and prompting discovery by several witnesses in nearby cars. Since, in the interests of her comfort, he had encouraged her to ride him cowgirl style, her identity was easily determined, and word went through school like wildfire! Claudette had publicly denounced her by nine a.m. Monday, having gotten the word sometime Saturday. Rob's lunch hour had started out pretty hectic, as his chosen woman wailed and gnashed her teeth over her downfall and worried over his reaction -- but Rob had no particular complaint with the idea of her being very publicly his, since it discouraged Bang Nation, which was now an irritant. So Rob comforted her, and comforting turned to necking, and necking turned to... well, Rob had to shove her panties in her mouth to keep Mary from adding to her own legend as she got her cum at the end of the little tryst they had in the woods just off the school parking lot. The girl was just LOUD! But she was also a VERY nice ride, and had worked her way under Rob's skin to the point that he didn't see himself bothering with Bang Nation for the conceivable future. If Mary's snooty girlfriends were going to shun her, it only meant that she had more time for him...

"Mother, we need to talk!"

Beth Ann Nevins took this as a good thing; finally, her daughter was going to talk to her about whatever it was that caused her to cry at night! "All right, Dear. Here in the kitchen?"

"Um, not if Dad's going to be home soon," Darla Jean sighed. "This is, uh, 'girl talk'."

"Okay -- your room, then?"

"Fine." The pair ascended the stairs and entered Darla Jean's room, where by some unknown convention, Darla Jean seated herself on her bed while her mother took the task chair at Darla Jean's desk. Darla Jean would have preferred the opposite arrangement, but... Taking a breath, she dove in, "Mother, I need protection."

"Protection?" Beth Ann blinked. "Is someone bothering you at school?"

Darla Jean rubbed her forehead; this was going to be difficult -- Mother was SO CLUELESS! "No one that I don't want to..." She sighed. "Umm, I mean... contraception."

"Oh. OH! Really?" Beth Ann absorbed this fairly quietly, which surprised her daughter no end. "What about rubbers?"

Darla Jean was floored. Mother didn't come off the walls or light her up -- she just went right to practical matters! Darla Jean had expected wild excitement -- surprise, disbelief, maybe recriminations... Instead, she got rubbers... "Um, they don't work."

"Sorry?"

Darla Jean looked hangdog. "I, uh, get stupid when I'm hot. I just don't want to feel the things."

"Oh." Beth Ann eyed her daughter. "Well, I can sympathize, but rubbers protect against disease, too." She paused a moment. "How many times have you done it thus far?"

"Once -- or three times, depending on how you count it."

"Wow! Young boys..." Beth Ann's face reflected fond memories.

"Mother!"

"Your father was an absolute satyr when we were younger -- but guys peak about your age, and girls peak about mine..."

"I... had no idea..." Mother was horny? Well, it's not like you want to think about what goes on...

Beth Ann shrugged. "Your father is still incredibly good in bed, but he's just slower -- slower to get off, and slower to recover. The former is a blessing; the latter..." She eyed her daughter. "By now, you've discovered that the women in this family are highly sexed. I figured we'd talk about this when you started masturbating... Oh!" The light dawned. "THAT'S it, isn't it? Why you make noises in bed?" Darla Jean nodded. "Stupid of me."

"How come I didn't know?" Darla Jean asked.

"It's no accident that our room is on the opposite side of the house," Beth Ann simpered. "Your father isn't too demonstrative -- strict upbringing. I got used to keeping things low-key..." She mused a moment. "I was a lot wilder than him, when we first met -- we almost didn't make it. But he was... virile..."

"Uh, thanks, Mother," Darla Jean held up her hands. "Too much information..."

Beth Ann laughed. "Okay, so, we come to you." She searched her memory. "Friday night's overnight wasn't exactly as advertised?"

"Well, no," Darla Jean admitted uncomfortably. "But it started out innocent enough."

"Do I ask who?"

"Ummm, no."

"What if you're pregnant?"

"I'm not." Darla Jean squared her shoulders, "Even if I am, it's not his fault. He offered, and I just couldn't bear to lose my cherry to a rubber thingie. It's not like he was gonna say, 'My way or the highway'."

"Is it going to happen again?"

"Well, yeah."

"Why am I getting strange vibes, here? Who was this person?"

"Well, a friend. But it was the first time for both of us. Neither of us had any experience; it didn't seem to smart to go and get all moon-eyed..."

Beth Ann sighed. THIS was what came of having a daughter with an I.Q. in the top five percent. "That's a very rational attitude. A Seventies attitude even -- but the Seventies were before HIV. What did HE think of this?"

"He agreed with me."

Beth Ann raised an eyebrow. "Didn't he have fun? Do we need to talk technique?"

"Look," Darla Jean replied, "it was an absolute blast for BOTH of us -- but we're BOTH too smart to get locked into anything on the basis of one admittedly great night of sex..."

"You are, huh?" Beth Ann looked triumphant. "That narrows the field considerably..."

"MOTHER!"

"All right. We'll get started with the birth control consultation. But you need to be CAREFUL. The Pill doesn't protect you from disease! THIS time, your partner was safe, by definition, if he was telling the truth about his level of experience..."

"He was."

"... but you're going to go hunting for the experienced, and danger goes with the territory. You REALLY need to re-think the rubber thing."

"Sitting here with you, it's a great idea. Hot, wet, and itchy, with a... cock... in my hand..." Darla Jean couldn't meet her mother's eye.

Beth Ann understood, but this was a time to press hard, if possible. "Think about it. HARD." Darla Jean nodded. "I'll go call the doctor."

"Mother?"

"Mmm?"

"How come it gets worse, after?"

"After you've tasted the forbidden fruit?" Beth Ann smiled. "It's how we propagate the species... You'd be surprised how giving birth shuts you down for a while -- but that's mostly lack of energy. You'd also be surprised at how the urge lasts all the way through pregnancy -- I'd have taken your father on in the delivery room, if I could have."

Darla Jean laughed, shaking her head at her departing mother's back.

Stick and Mary followed Teddy to his car. Teddy drove and Mary sat in back with Stick, who was in a major funk. "My ass is fucked."

Teddy looked up in the mirror. "You don't have to ever give me head again, Stick -- and as far as I'm concerned, you never have to admit you did it, either..."

Stick rubbed his forehead. "That won't fix it, Man. Thanks, but..."

"It'll be all right, Stick," Mary soothed. "Your friends will all understand..."

"Like Nate?" Stick grunted.

"Nate will be all right. He's just going to need a bit. Nora won't LET him get stupid; he'll probably be all right tomorrow."

"My friends are gonna shit on me..." Stick husked.

"Who are your REAL friends, Stick? Nate, Draper, us, Nora... Is there REALLY anyone else?" Mary challenged.

"Well, mebbe not," Stick agreed reluctantly. "But the crowd in the ‘hood are gonna line up to give me shit..."

"We'll try to minimize things," Teddy promised. "I'll stay... away..."

"Naw," Stick sighed, "Ain't fair to ya. Besides, I probably gotta cover your ass to keep it from gettin' kicked. Fuck 'em if they can't take a joke!" He tried to grin, but it wasn't any too impressive.

Mary pulled him against her and rubbed his hard back. "It'll be okay, Hon. You'll see...You have us, and mark my words, you'll have Nate and Nora, too..."

"Dunno 'bout Draper..." Stick mused sadly.

Teddy prepared to make the turn that would head them toward Stick's neighborhood, but Mary caught his eye and shook her head, tapping her chest. Stick needed TLC, not a chance to spill his guts to unsympathetic ears. Teddy took the hint and headed for Mary's...

In Nate's car on the way home, Nora analyzed his silence. "You're still mad at me."

"Yeh. But that ain't all of it. I'm kinda fucked up right now."

There was another minutes-long silence, and Nora tried again, "Your mother's something!"

Nate looked away from the road. "What's THAT supposed to mean?"

Nora blinked. Nate was certainly cranky! "I meant that she caught Hell overnight, but she seemed to be dealing with it pretty well -- like the whole thing was minor!" She paused a moment. "And the way she jumped up and defended Stick was pretty awesome, too."

"Yeh." Obviously, the second part wasn't something Nate was happy about.

"You didn't like having that jammed down your throat, did you?"

"No. I understand it, now -- but I don't hafta LIKE it!"

"What bothers you most about it?"

"Stick's a GUY! He's not..." Nate couldn't get it out, really. The whole thing was a betrayal. The two of them had been friends for almost a decade, and Stick had NEVER ONCE done ANYTHING that suggested he'd mess with QUEERS! Nate was going to spend the near future watching all of his acquaintances sidelong, wondering when THEY would turn out to be queer...

Nora reached out and rubbed Nate's shoulder. He was taking this very hard, and the fact that she hadn't let anything slip would come up again. Given the other challenges -- her new home, his mother's attack -- just the collection of the strange and the weird -- Nate needed powerful medicine. Nora set herself to provide it.

The first part would be easy enough: "I want you to stay with me, tonight," she murmured.

Nate eyed her narrowly. "Your Mama and Daddy'll LOVE THAT!" Nate's instinct was to go somewhere and try to sort through this pile of shit ALONE; frankly, she was still on his list for not saying a fucking word about Stick... Pulling into the Wilson mansion's posh driveway added another thought: What was he doin' hanging out with a rich bitch, anyway? Shit had no future that he could see, when he stood back and looked at it...

Nora had no problem reading his thoughts; Nate was about to do something stupid, unless she came up with a compelling reason for him not to... "You're not safe at home, Nate."

"What?"

"You're not safe. Even if this was this pimp, he might get the idea that messing with you will make his point. Look what happened to Mom! Daddy says that he figures that the whole thing was pointed at him..."

That did it; it shut Nate down, visibly. He frowned and mulled things, but Nora seemed to have a point... "Well your folks aren't gonna..."

"You don't know what they’re gonna do!" Nora countered. "They let us sleep together; what's different about this? Besides, if one of them comes down with a case of the stupids, there's STILL a lot of room, here..."

"Well..."

"C'mon!" Nora tugged at Nate's arm, and it worked, despite the fact that they were still in his car. When she let go, he opened the door and got out. He fidgeted a second, remembering last time, but by the time Nora had circled the car, Jorge was out the door.

"Good evening, Sir!" Jorge greeted him. "I have this." He passed Nate and got in, and things kind of resolved themselves...

"Jorge! Our books?" Nora stopped the chauffer from driving off.

"Do you want them now, Miss, or should I bring them up?"

"Now is fine." She'd load Nate down -- that'd keep him from thinking too much.

Jorge collected the unruly pile from the back seat. Nate found himself taking a mixed mess, while Nora got her bag. "Come on," she cajoled, pulling his arm. Behind him, Jorge put the car in motion, closing off his alternatives... Shrugging, he followed Nora in.

Leticia was at the door, and this time, she was properly deferential to BOTH of them, offering to take Nora's bag and Nate's pile alike, but the pair waved it off. "We'll be fine," Nora dismissed her. "Please tell whoever is handling things that Nate will be staying for dinner."

"Yes, Miss."

They got to her room, and she put her things on the desk, then collected Nate's pile and stacked it there, too. Nate stood in the middle of the floor, leaking anger and upset. This just wasn't going well; she needed to get him past this, but how? He needed to lash out at something...

Suddenly, she knew what was necessary. It might not be the ONLY way, but it would work... Nora closed the door, then took Nate's hands and pulled him to the bed, seating him on it. The vibes he was giving off said that attempting an embrace wasn't going to get it -- it was too much like offering a bribe. No, the other thing was better... She knelt before him and took his hand, "I know that you feel that I have violated the trust between us. I did what I thought was right -- what WAS right for Mary and Stick and Teddy -- but it has cost me and you have been hurt. I'm sorry. I know that's not enough, though. I know you're carrying a lot of stuff around right now, but that this thing I did is keeping you from sharing the others with me. I want to make this right."

"How the fuck you gonna do that?" Nate rasped.

"I think you should punish me in some way -- I don't know -- a spanking, maybe?"

This artfully delivered suggestion took Nate right between the eyes. Instinct prompted agreement, "Yeh, good idea! C'mere!" He snatched her wrist and in just a second, she was draped over his knees. Nate took a shot, "SMACK", before he even thought about it.

But it wasn't good enough. Nate didn't think about repercussions, or form, or the effect on their relationship; the next moment was all about how Nora's slacks got in the way. "Get them pants off!"

Nora stood and did as she was told. Now that things had started, she was wondering if she'd REALLY had a good idea, or if she'd just screwed up royally!

Nate gave her no time to worry about it; as soon as her slacks and panties cleared her knees, he pulled her, off-balance, back over his knees and pinned her with his left arm while he snatched one leg totally free. The other remained puddled around Nora's right ankle as Nate resumed his efforts.

SMACK!

"You shoulda..."

SMACK!

"TOLD me this..."

SMACK!

"No matter WHAT, 'cause..."

SMACK!

"it was fuckin' important!"

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

"You are..."

SMACK!

"NOT..."

SMACK!

"Supposed ta keep..."

SMACK!

"Secrets..."

SMACK!

"From..."

SMACK!

"ME!"

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Nora was crying openly; Nate was laying it on, HARD, giving her not only what she was due, but venting for all of the wild shit that had occurred in the past couple of days! But the immediate sting was receding, being replaced by an itchier, constant irritation that seemed to have other components...

Nate came to himself somewhat; Nora's ass was cherry red, he realized, but his hand kept rising and falling, almost of its own accord. He hadn't counted, so he had no idea where they were, or how long they'd been at it; his hand hurt, but there was something about the splat of it on her wide cheeks that was somewhat addictive... Nora was bawling and clutching his leg, but she was WET! Either she'd pissed herself, or she was getting worked up...

His initial rage abated, he instinctively backed off -- but he couldn't stop, it seemed. Nora kicked and bounced, causing him to change his attack, or add 'just one more' because he'd missed a stroke; he found himself shifting targets, trying to even out the pink blush on her cheeks. Abruptly, he became aware that he had a hard-on, which embarrassed him somewhat -- but no wonder! Nora's pussy was wide open, puffy, dripping, giving off that unmistakable smell... He dropped a stroke low, along the crease between her ass and her thighs, which popped her along the bottom end of her slit, and he got an "Uuh!" a splattering sound, and a wet hand...

Nora was beside herself; the itching, buzzing tingle from her ass was SOOO close to another, similar feeling that seemed to be building in a site nearby... Suddenly, there was this flash... "Uuh!" Another followed, and another... Nate's cock was poking her under the sternum; she tried unsuccessfully to get at it around his thigh, wanting it to add itself to the flashes from her nether lips as Nate's hand grazed them...

Nora's pussy lips were fluttering; Nate watched them, hypnotized, as he struck. They weren't taking the brunt of things, but they were getting secondary effects. After every stroke, he watched them clench and release; it seemed like every time, she opened a little bit further. He wanted to go on forever, but her aroma had him so hard that he was gonna stick his cock right through her stomach, at this rate! Somehow, she managed to reach under his leg and was sliding her hand along the crotch of his jeans, caressing his aching balls... "Awright, that's enough," he managed in a strangled whisper. "Kneel up on the bed."

Nora did as she was told without even thinking about it. Nate's hard-on told her all she needed to know about what was coming next. She crawled up on the bed and dropped her shoulders to the mattress, waving her reddened ass in the air and reaching between her spread thighs to feel the amazing wetness on their inner surface.

Nate would never remember actually getting out of his jeans and shoes; they were just an attempted distraction, not a successful one. He felt the mattress give below his knees, taking his weight, and then Nora's hot, red ass was under his hands. Her pussy was as wide open as he'd ever seen it; sinking the full length of his cock into her wasn't hard at all...

Nate's hands gripped Nora's hips and pulled her back onto him. His cock filled her; when her tortured ass bashed into his lower belly, that was the final straw -- Nora screamed and whited out, the supercharged orgasm that the spanking had built blasting through her, "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!"

"JEEZUS!" Nate gritted his teeth and hung on, trying to extend things; he'd gotten ONE FUCKIN' STROKE! Nora was going crazy, inside and out, and the sensations were just fuckin' unbelievable! Somehow, he mastered himself enough to ride out the immediate effects of Nora's orgasm, holding himself deep in her while her pink ass cheeks twisted and flexed against his lower belly and groin. Finally, she settled down, and Nate began to move in her to keep up the flow of sensation, sliding in and out smoothly, long-stroking. With every in-stroke, Nate's belly smacked Nora's sore ass; it was painful, but Nora found that she didn't care -- what Nate's cock was doing inside her was the primary thing, and the slap of his balls against her clit came second. The pain in her ass was an add-on, and the nature of it kept seeming to drift back and forth; when examined directly, it was definitely pain, but when other things had her attention, it seemed to be pleasure...

This pass just wasn't going to last long, Nate realized. His excitement was too intense and his need to cum too strong. Fortunately, Nora was showing signs of being close again... Nate tried to extend things, but he couldn't. He felt the telltale tickle that said control over his balls was lost and began power-stroking, looking for that last little bit... "HRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHH!!!!" he grunted, burying himself, his cock pumping long blasts of semen into his lover's vagina.

Nora had been close, but without those last few strokes, she'd have never made it. As it was, the impact of his cum on her cervix was what did it for her, bringing her off in time to milk a bit more of his spend from his balls. It wasn't a great orgasm, but it was a good one, and it followed a REALLY great one pretty closely... Nora collapsed forward, unmindful of the effect of the impact that Nate, dragged along, was going to make on her burning ass until it had occurred. "Owwww!"

Nate rolled off and got a look at his girlfriend. Nora's face was a mess of tear-ruined makeup, snot from her runny nose, and other drippings. She continued to spasm involuntarily from the sobbing the spanking had produced. But she was smiling when she snuggled into his arms... Nate felt AWFUL; he'd just beat the Hell out of his woman, and the results weren't that pretty... "I, uh, I'm sorry. I don't think I oughta do that when I'm strung out like that..."

"Um. Me neither. But I'll live," Nora replied, tucking her head into his shoulder. 'Besides,' she thought, 'it worked...'

"Inez, Honey, you dere?" Velma's voice came over the intercom. "Miss Nora done brought her boyfrien' home, an' I be needin' some help..."

Inez looked over her shoulder at Jason, who had been toying with her breasts while she knelt before his chair; the pair were pretending to watch TV and a carefully poker-faced Bianca was pretending to ignore them. Jason frowned, but withdrew his hands and popped her on the ass, not even enough to sting. "No rest for the wicked."

Inez hopped up, pulling her peasant blouse back up over her arms. "I'll be right there, Velma!" She genuflected to her Master and left. Jason glanced over at Bianca and sighed. "Okay, I know I'm a bad example..."

Bianca grimaced, shrugging. "Oh, I don't know... You give Mama far more attention, positive AND negative, than Papa ever did. He tended to be self-absorbed..."

Jason glanced around. "Speaking of your father... These rooms -- I don't like having inherited them. You'll be moving. I think I'll move your mother tonight." Bianca merely nodded...

"Dinner is served," Consuelo intoned.

Armand looked up from his monitor. "Inform the others. And bring a pillow to the dining room."

"Sir." She withdrew.

"Dinner is served."

Nate looked up, realizing that both he and Nora were naked from the waist down. "We'll... be along." The maid withdrew. "Baby?" He nudged Nora. "Dinner."

"Mmm?" Nora struggled up.

"You're a mess, Baby. Go wash up so your Daddy won't see you like that."

"Oh. Oh!" A quick glance at a mirror was horrendous! "You, too, then -- you're all sticky." Nora took Nate's hand and led him to the bathroom.

"Dinner is served."

"Oh, okay." Sharon had been napping; having servants around meant that household chores weren't her province any more, apparently. TV wasn't that exciting; what was she going to do all day? "I'll be right there. Where is the Wench?"

"In her k-, uh, in her quarters, most likely, Ma'am." Consuelo looked mildly evasive.

"Will she be at dinner?"

"Not unless her presence is requested, Ma'am. Otherwise, she'll eat with us."

Sharon shook her head. "I'm not used to all this." Consuelo merely waited. "Please ask Armand if she may be present."

"Yes, Ma'am." Consuelo headed back to the dining room, thinking, 'Well, at least she isn't trying to run things out of the box...'

Armand presided over an uncharacteristically crowded table. Sharon arrived first, followed by the Wench. Nora and Nate arrived a bit later. Inez and Leticia served; Consuelo supervised in the kitchen while Jason handled the dining room. Jason hovered, directing; when Inez arrived, she made to bare her breasts, but he shook his head fractionally and she left off.

Conversation was minimal, initially; Armand was used to eating alone, and just hadn't decided how to handle things. The Wench knelt at Sharon's right, nude as usual, which provided Armand with a bit of amusement when Nate and Nora entered the room; Nate's eyes nearly left his head. Nora picked it up and said, "Nate, Honey, she's doing her job -- it's not polite to stare."

Nate shook his head and tried to avoid looking -- without much success. "Lookit, what IS her job?" he asked while waiting for Nora to seat herself.

But Nora was looking at the pillow on the seat of her chair. "Daddy..."

"I didn't watch, Daughter, but I stumbled upon it in process. Since there is no current tension between you, I assume that all ended well, but..." Armand examined his manicure.

'Oh, shit!' Nate flicked his eyes to Nora's Daddy, but there didn't seem to be any wild action forthcoming. "Sorry."

"Not strictly my business," came the reply. "If she'd come running out of her rooms having a fit over it, things might have been different..."

"I missed something..." Sharon guessed.

"I allowed you to rest undisturbed, but it's been an eventful day, for Mr. Adams, especially." Armand handed conversation over to Nate and Nora with a nod.

Nora settled gingerly onto the pillow. "Nate's mother was attacked last night, Mom. Tortured. She's in the hospital, but doing all right."

"Oh, my!" Sharon gasped. "How bad?"

"The details would ruin your digestion -- perhaps after dinner? Suffice it to say that her ordeal lent your adventure a distinct party air by comparison," Armand interrupted blandly.

"And that wasn't everything, either," Nora sighed.

"No?"

"I found out my best friend is doin'... homosexual stuff with another guy. Kinda shook me," Nate responded.

"Is he gay, then?" Sharon asked.

"Nah," Nate grunted. "They're sharin' a woman."

"It's Mary, Mom -- and Teddy. And Nate's friend Stick Williams. I knew about it, and I didn't tell Nate," Nora interjected.

"And?"

"I spanked her." Nate flicked a glance at Armand, but the man didn’t even blink.

"Oh." Sharon focused her attention on her soup. Things were headed downhill, fast... She glanced at Nora, but her daughter merely smiled and placed her hand over Nate's. Well, maybe not, then... "Mary.... Mary Nally?"

"Uh huh."

"Teddy... Frick? She's having sex with Teddy? Little Teddy?"

"Yes. But Teddy's sort of..." Nora rocked her hand.

"Um. Well, Teddy showed all of the classic signs... So, this friend of Nate's... Stick? He's gay?"

"No..." Nora stared at the ceiling while she marshaled her thoughts. "If anything, he's a lot less inclined to be gay than Teddy. He's just giving Teddy what he wants."

"Oh, okay. And Stick and Mary?"

"Oh, yeah." Nora rolled her eyes.

Sharon thought about asking Nora Stick's race, but she was pretty sure she knew the answer. "So, everybody is doing everybody."

"Yeah. There are differences in approach, but that's it."

Sharon turned to Nate. "And this is a surprise. Well, I'd be unsettled, too. Still, it appears to be very bisexual, not very gay. How bad is it?"

Nate shrugged. "Lotta dudes are gonna jump to conclusions. I did. It's gonna splash over."

"On you." Sharon confirmed.

"Yeh."

"Even though you're deeply involved heterosexually."

"I don't think I'm overreacting," Nate insisted. "I had a shit-fit. Other dudes won't even look at it hard -- they'll just point the finger."

"How are they going to explain Mary?"

"I dunno. Most of 'em probably won't bother."

"I'm a latecomer to this scene, but I'm aware of the basic situation," Armand interjected. "Teddy is submissive -- a bottom, homosexually. If I'm correct, he's offering oral and anal services to Stick, basically without much expectation of recompense. You don't have to be particularly homosexual to accept those favors -- merely a bit dominant."

"Well, Stick's blown him."

"Because Mary insisted it wasn't fair if he didn't give Teddy SOMETHING..." Nora interjected.

Armand grunted. "There is some truth in that, long-term. If it was just a scene, though, it probably wouldn't be necessary. Teddy would probably take quite a bit before getting fed up, as it were. I'd be willing to bet, however, that no inducement in the world would get Stick to offer Teddy anal services..."

"Don't look like it," Nate grunted.

"There it is, then," Armand replied. "Even consensual anal sex is a submissive act. Stick's use of Teddy resembles the use he would give a woman. Even fellating him is roughly analogous to reluctant cunnilingus. Stick isn't particularly gay -- but he IS asserting some dominance. No doubt he is asserting himself somewhat with Mary, too."

"He is," Nora affirmed. "Mary likes it. They have a kind of pecking order going on."

"I wouldn't worry about Stick asking you to engage in homosexual acts, then, Nate. Relative reputation is another matter. You can spurn your friend, but the other two are Nora's friends, so it might get sticky. You need to decide what's important, and if this isn't, ride it out."

"It ain't normal," Nate groused.

"What's 'normal'?" Armand returned. "This house is a regular Peyton Place these days, and very little that goes on in it is 'normal'. Normal is a fiction; to a great many narrow-minded people, your relationship to my daughter is offensively abnormal."

"Yeah..." Nate looked away.

"Get over it. Broaden your perspective. Would it surprise you to learn that I have sexed a male anally? Without his consent? Or at least, in the face of extreme reluctance... And it had NOTHING to do with sex, per se -- as I related, anal sex is a submission, and taking a heterosexual male anally is a potentially mind-breaking act of dominance."

"Armand! Please!" Sharon wailed.

"Uhhh, thanks for sharing, but..." Nate was visibly nauseated.

"The way you're acting proves my point, Son," Armand said gently. "I seldom resort to such -- it's an object lesson on the order of the incident with Nora's mother yesterday -- or yours, last night. As I said, sex has nothing to do with it other than its usefulness as a tool."

"Okay, can we change the subject?" Nate asked plaintively. His eye lit on the Wench; fortunately, or unfortunately, his position and hers kept her from being seen below a point just above her nipples. "I gotta know -- what IS her job?"

"The Wench?" Armand chuckled. "Tell him."

"I am a slave, the lowest of the low in my Master's house. My primary function is to service my Master's guests..." the Wench intoned. It was becoming a litany...

Armand interjected, "Odd that you haven't noticed that the only current guest is Mr. Adams... Nora and her mother are residents."

The Wench blanched, and Nora and Sharon's eyes popped. The Wench made to move, but Armand put out a hand, forestalling her. "On the other hand, I assigned you to Sharon, and you are here at her request. Besides, Mr. Adams is being well taken care of..." The Wench slumped in relief. "See me after dinner, however -- I have a task for you."

"Yes, Master."

Nate, looking on, found himself in agreement with Nora's Daddy; not much that happened around here was 'normal'...

Dinner was over; Nate and Nora had returned to Nora's room without overt comment. It was Nora's intent to make Nate's overnight stay a fait accompli by the simple expedient of not mentioning it to anyone. After all, she had a queen-sized bed...

Inez had picked up Jason's dinner and was off to deliver it; Bianca was dining in the kitchen. Pete and Ed were there, too. Pete was pretending not to be checking Bianca out, and Ed was dawdling over his dinner, having arrived late and barely started it. Bianca hopped up and left, throwing a last glance at Pete over her shoulder, and Ed, picking it up, chuckled. "So, when are you gonna make your move?"

"Huh?"

"Aww, c'mon! Another week or so and she's gonna suddenly trip and fall under ya in the hallway!" Ed chuckled.

"Nah," Pete grunted, pretending nonchalance. "She wouldn't get that brave. And I CAN'T -- she's under age!"

Ed grunted. "You CAN. Everybody'll look the other way if she asks 'em to. Her Papa and his wicked knife are gone, Man. She's do-able!"

"Well, MAYBE," Pete sighed doubtfully. "Don't think I wouldn't like to. But to cover MY ass she's got to get pretty transparent; I don't see that. Mexican girls are flirts, but it doesn't necessarily mean she wants to jump in bed with you -- it's cultural."

Ed grunted. "I think you're talkin' your way out of something fine! You give her a little encouragement, and you'll be pickin' cherries, Man!"

Velma chuckled throatily. "Dat lech might be right! Fo' sho' she gotta crush on yo'!" She turned to Pete and waved a finger, "But yo' looka HERE -- if'n she do, it's 'cause she 'spects yo' to do RIGHT by her, not jus' climb on, split her open an' pour yo' juice in dere!" She gave Ed the evil eye, "Not like SOME droolin' bastids we got 'round heah!"

"I'll keep that in mind," mumbled Pete, who, thoroughly browbeaten and embarrassed, made shift to leave the table quickly.

That left Ed -- and Ed was taking his time. And he was spending a lot of it looking thoughtfully at Velma. This went on for about twenty minutes, between various interruptions, but Velma took notice fairly quickly. After she'd stood it a while, she turned and rumbled truculently, "Whatchew lookin' at?"

"Nothin'." Actually, the thought process going on immediately before the challenge was something on the order of, 'Those tits are like watermelons! Wonder what they feel like? And if that's a nipple, it's damn near as big as my thumb!'

Actually, it WAS a nipple, and it was growing under Ed's regard. "Yo' sittin' 'round dreamin' 'bout young stuff? Old bastid like yo' jus' ruin young stuff -- be all busy gettin' yours an' leave a poor gal hangin'!"

Ed, stung, ranted, "I'd last long enough to get your big ass off a coupla times!"

"Yo' shit!" Velma replied derisively. "Dat tallywhacker o' yours probly a whole three an' a half inches long! I'd nevah know yo' was dere!"

"It's plenty long enough, if I could find a hole to poke it in!" Ed spouted. "I'd have to roll your big black ass in flour and go for the wet spot!"

"Yo' want me ta show yo' where da fuck it is?" There was a mountain of woman towering over Ed, who looked up and blinked. Velma blinked, too, and turned and shuffled off. How the fuck had they gotten there? She leaned over the sink, pretending to be doing something, but it was purely to hide the fact that her nipples were vainly, painfully trying to push her bra cups away from her heavy breasts. They'd just crawled all over each other's ass -- why was she so hot?

Ed was sitting there, wondering the same thing. Wasn't there an invitation in there, somewhere? Well, he couldn't leave things where they were... "You better just keep some beside the bed; if I come staggerin' in and start usin' you for a mattress, I'll be stone drunk and in no condition to go lookin' for it..."

"Prolly be all that happened, too. Yo' be staggerin' in, pump three strokes, make a mess on da sheets an' pass out! An' DEN I'd hafta bolt the door alla time -- an' I'd hafta put da bolt in myself, 'cause I'd be protectin' myself fum YO' drunken ass! Yo'd fix da fookin' thing so yo' could git past it..."

"Shit. I'd probably wake up wearin' a leash!" Ed sallied, "Or tied to the damned bed!"

"What I want yo' scrawny ass makin' lumps in my bed fo'?" Velma whirled to address him directly.

Ed got up and deliberately filled his coffee cup from the pot, then challenged her with his eyes. "Hmmm. On the other hand, your big ass is probably softer than MY bunk... If I gotta pass out somewhere..." He turned and walked out, leaving Velma puffing and blowing with a fine mix of outrage and arousal. "I don' gotta worry 'bout YO' ever findin' out!" she railed at his departing back.

Ed was grinning from ear to ear. If this was courtship, it was the damnedest one that HE'D ever heard of! They hadn't had a single polite thing to say to one another -- but he was pretty sure she'd invited him to bed. Hell, she'd issued a challenge; question was, did he want it?

Velma's hands shook as she scrubbed at a dirty broiler rack. Had he said what she THOUGHT he'd said? And what the Hell had gotten into her? She'd stuck her foot in it, big time! What if the bastid showed up some night? The wet pulse in her pussy brought on by the question answered it, and left her thoroughly embarrassed, to boot...

"Master?" The Wench knelt before Armand, who was seated in a recliner in the Media Room, in his robe and lounging pajamas. There was a bit of trepidation in her -- had she screwed up at dinner, even a little bit?

"Ah, Wench." Armand turned from split-screen monitoring several in-house locations. "Sharon has returned to her quarters?"

"Yes, Master."

"Good. You will continue to serve Sharon. In fact, I want you to do your level best to seduce her, gradually. Be careful; I want no ham-handed attempt, doomed to failure. I want you to succeed. Your assessment of her position in this house is correct in some particulars -- but she is STILL subservient to ME. I will be clarifying that for her, over time. She is your sister in bondage; an older sister, perhaps, and higher in the pecking order, but still not a freewoman, despite her current assumption otherwise. I want the two of you to seek each other for comfort when the rough pleasures of men prove to be too much. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master."

"If you have questions, address them to me as they occur. Now, come here and take the edge off -- I want to be fully in control when I interview her later..." Armand opened his robe and his pajama fly, and the Wench crawled forward and went to work on his erection.