Chapter 34
Randall's Reputation

Nate and Roland were out making the rounds. Roland kept his mouth shut until they'd made their first delivery; Nate was fuming pretty heavily without it. But as they pulled away, Roland opened up, "Awright, inquiring minds wanta know. What the fuck?"

"I got a case of diahhrea of the mouth, an' Nora had to get a look at Stella," Nate rasped.

"An' you couldn't keep it from happenin'?"

"No. I couldn't," Nate groused. "I know it makes me look whipped, and I'm gonna take anything she says or does out on her, but there are limits how far I can push her."

"Howcum?"

"It's complicated, an' the fact that she's the best damn thing ever happened to me is only one piece. Some a' the rest of it you're better off not knowin'." 'She's the big boss' daughter' didn't seem to be a good thing to let slip... "The good news is that if she needs an ass whuppin' I can do it."

"Well THAT's good, I guess," Roland allowed.

"It'll have to do, won't it?" Nate shook his head, disgusted.

"Hey, Randall," Erin McGrath murmured.

"Hey, Erin." 'What's she doing here?' Randall wondered. He and Jimmy had hung out after class, playing chess and discussing Darla Jean -- something Amy had participated in, too. Randall felt responsible for Darla Jean's troubles; if he hadn't pressed for an opportunity to have sex, the elaborate set-up of the previous weekend wouldn't have occurred, and Darla Jean would still be in the closet. Amy, however, was of a different opinion; she felt that they'd done Darla Jean a favor, and Darla Jean's current problems would blow over and eventually work to her benefit by making the shy girl more approachable.

Jimmy was in agreement. "Hey, Man, she needed it every bit as bad as you did! I wouldn't worry about it. This thing with Ted and Dwayne kind of confirms it!"

"I don't know why she..." Randall began.

"Rushed out and chased down Dwayne?" Amy tittered. "I do. It's the same reason you fell in the sack with Peggy! She was trying to get a comparison with her first time."

"I didn't exactly..."

"Okay, okay, Peggy stalked YOU! But YOU let it happen, and she'd have never done it except for the fact that she's tight with Darla Jean and heard good things!" Amy argued. "And another thing -- you're getting MORE favorable press from Peggy! The word's out, Man! You're a stud!"

Randall rolled his eyes. "As great as that sounds, I wish we'd kept the whole thing between ourselves."

"You had a chance, Man," Jimmy argued. "But you and Darla Jean got all adult about it and decided you should play the field, rather than hanging onto one another."

"Well..."

"Well, nothing, Man! If you're with one girl and it's absolutely great -- and don't tell me it wasn't! -- why look around?" Jimmy remonstrated.

"Yeah," Randall agreed. "Hindsight is twenty-twenty. But Darla Jean wanted to look around, too..."

"Well, she has," Amy simpered. "I don't think she's found better..."

"She got two, pretty quickly," Randall pointed out.

"And it was a two-for-one sale she'd have been better off missing out on," Amy replied. "Are you jealous because she's ahead of you? She's a girl -- it's a seller's market. All SHE has to do is be receptive..." She grinned. "Of course, with the reputation you're getting..."

"Shit, Amy!" Randall had complained -- but here stood Erin. Erin was a known quantity -- a card-carrying member of Bang Nation. Everybody knew it, even though things had long-since settled down, because she'd been one of -- if not THE -- first of Rob's conquests. Rob hadn't developed his current sophistication, and word had leaked quickly, leaving Erin a marked woman. Randall eyed her, clamping his lips on 'I thought you chased jocks,' and settling for "What can I do for you?"

Erin was a mixed collection of features. Her face was somewhat pixyish under short blonde hair, with a cute nose -- but crooked teeth and a receding chin. Right now, she was kind of cute, but one look said she'd get homely as she aged. The bust line was nothing to write home about, not that Randall cared, particularly; in his opinion, Darla Jean had plenty, and Erin was competitive. But Erin managed to be bowlegged and pigeon-toed, and she was a total airhead... "Peggy says you're a pretty good tutor," she announced.

Randall found himself wondering how long she'd worked on that particular double-entendre -- or if it was even deliberate, for that matter. "Thanks. Maybe I should hire myself out."

The comeback left her dead in the water, "Uh, yeah. Jeez, what would you charge?"

Randall eyed her. "I guess it depends on the subject."

"Um. I was hoping I might take it out in trade..."

By now, Randall had a pretty good grip on what was up. "Oh?"

"Um, yeah, like Peggy did..." Erin blushed, solidifying things.

Randall didn't let her off the hook. "I didn't charge Peggy, so I guess she didn't pay me."

The blush got worse. "Oh, Man..." She turned away.

Randall took pity on her. "Do you really need tutoring?"

"Well, uh, maybe..."

"But that's not why you're here..."

"No."

Randall frowned. "Maybe I paid Peggy fifty bucks to tell people I'm a stud."

"No, I'm not buying that." Erin managed to get her eyes back onto his.

"Money well spent, then." Randall grinned. Erin grinned back, but it was tentative. This teasing... Randall sighed. "Let's go somewhere neutral and talk."

"Okay. Gino's?"

"All right." Randall led the way out.

In the parking lot, logistics raised itself as a subject. "Together, or separate?" Erin asked.

"Ummm, it'd be both reputation-saving and convenient if we went separately," Randall hazarded.

"Okay." Erin didn't bother to hide her disappointment, but Randall was right. Besides, it would give her a few minutes to ponder how things were going before things got deep. Randall's reactions were... convincing. He was confident, and he was acting like a guy who was getting laid often enough to have standards. Last week, things would probably have been different, but then last week, Randall hadn't made the cut... Now, SHE was asking HIM, and he was acting fully capable of saying 'No'...

At Gino's, the pair picked a booth that wasn't hidden, but WAS off the beaten path. Erin ordered a Coke, and Randall a Dr. Pepper, letting the waitress wander off before Erin nerved herself for the next pass. Randall beat her to it: "Why me?"

"I... need to know..."

"Know what?" Randall demanded.

"Okay." Erin gathered herself. "You know about Rob." It was a statement, not a question. Randall nodded confirmation. "Well, there have been a couple of others, not as good -- I'm still kind of hung up on Rob. I need to know if he was really THAT good..."

"Oh." Randall scratched his head. "I don't know if I'm competition."

"Well," Erin cocked her head, "this way we can both find out..."

"I have a lot to lose, here -- and very little to gain," Randall groused.

"Ummm, how about this?" Erin offered. "If it's not that good, I promise NEVER to tell ANYBODY, male or female?"

"How do I enforce that?"

"I'm sure there is something nasty you could spread about me..."

"Okay." This sure was weird; Randall would have never believed he'd be sitting there trying to talk a girl out of having sex with him... "So, are you in a hurry?"

"Well, my Mom doesn't get home until eight..."

That seemed to define not only when, but where, too... "Protection?"

"Um, rubbers?"

"Yeah."

"I don't have any."

Randall thought about chiding her for pushing such things without being fully prepared, but then he had second thoughts. He probably needed large ones, anyway, and she wouldn't know that. "I have some." He rubbed his face. "Now, then?"

"Umm, yeah."

"Okay." Randall dropped money on the table to cover the check, and the pair moved back out to the parking lot. "I'll follow you."

On the way to Erin's, Randall kept going over the situation again and again. What had happened? Why was he suddenly the gold standard for sex? Nothing made sense... When Erin pulled into her driveway, Randall parked on the street next door so as to make things less obvious, then snagged a couple of rubbers from his newly-acquired stash in the glove compartment. When he joined her on her front step, Erin turned, wordless, and unlocked the door, preceding him into the house and down the hall to what was obviously her bedroom. Erin closed the door, leaving Randall standing in the center of the room, wondering 'What next?' "So, you want to make out or something?" This was sooo... cold?

"Um, yeah. Sure." Erin came forward, close to Randall, then murmured, "Why don't you undress me?"

"Uh, sure." Randall started fumbling with Erin's blouse, a sleeveless, round-necked affair, while he added, "This is 'way too much like going to the doctor's office. We're going to need to get into it, or we're doomed..."

Erin raised her arms for Randall to lift the blouse, and spoke as her head cleared the neck, "Yeah, I know -- but there's no need to spend a week messing with romance when we REALLY want to know about sex. Once I'm naked and you're naked, I bet things will heat up." She turned around to allow Randall access to the clasp of her bra, and then leaned forward to let it drop off her shoulders. Turning back around, she licked her lips and murmured, "If things turn out to be good, we can always backtrack some on the romantic parts..."

Well, the tits were as advertised, Randall reflected, not huge but not bad. He knelt to work the snap of Erin's hip-huggers, unzipping them, then running into a surprising amount of trouble attempting to get them off her ass. 'C'mon,' he thought to himself, 'it's not THAT big!' It wasn't, either, but the jeans were painted on, it seemed; Erin had to lend a hand. Finally, she stepped out of them and stood there in just a pair of red panties, which Randall made quick work of.

"Well?" Erin spun slowly, letting Randall take it all in, "This is it... What do you think?"

Randall eyed the package. Many things about it he already knew -- even the pair of dimples in Erin's lower back. The legs weren't showpieces; they were thin and bowed, and her knees were the largest parts. On the other hand, they weren't awful, either. Her butt looked okay, and the patch of fur on her mound was almost as blonde as the hair on her head. All in all, it wasn't Pamela Anderson, but it was more than sufficient to be arousing. Randall suspected that if he opened his mouth at this juncture, he'd screw something up, so he merely smiled and nodded, presenting his shirt cuffs so that Erin could start undressing him. She smiled and began getting him out of his shirt. When she had him fully unbuttoned, she stepped forward to push the fabric off his shoulders, smiling into his eyes as she sensed approval. Randall went for a short kiss, which she returned while divesting him of his T-shirt -- until passing it over his head broke the lip-lock.

Erin knelt to go to work on his pants, and Randall watched, bemused, reaching down to toy with her hair. Erin concentrated on what she was doing; there was a stiff cock behind that zipper, for sure, but how big it was wasn't certain... Peggy had more or less indicated that it was sizeable, but how big could it be? Rob had been a handful, but her other two experiences had been with wiener-sized dicks -- nothing incredible... Once his jeans were down, there was a sizeable tent in Randall's boxers, though. Erin pulled open the waistband and jerked them down, exposing herself to a shock! "Oh, my!"

Randall glanced down, bemused. "Something wrong?"

"It's huge!"

"Not really..."

"Well, it's the biggest I'VE ever seen! Are you sure it will fit?"

"Uhhh..." Erin had him, there. Peggy had had problems. "I've read that any woman can adapt, and this isn't REALLY a record-breaker..."

Erin wasn't convinced. The thing topped Rob's -- which was sizeable -- and almost made two of her other two conquests! "Well, we're gonna have to start easy, and I might need lube..."

"No problem. That's what foreplay is for..." Randall pulled her to her feet and into an embrace, starting another kiss. Time to get things out of the doctor's office and into the bedroom...

Erin was all for that! Where had Randall gotten so confident? She leaned in, accepting the invasion of his tongue and the hands drifting over her bare ass. Mmmmmmm, maybe she'd get wet this time, like with Rob?

'Confident' wouldn't have been Randall's description of himself; he was suffering from considerable performance anxiety. Direct comparisons with Rob Graham weren't something he expected to be a big winner at -- at least, not in THIS area. Erin was a tight-lipped kisser, whose tongue didn't follow his back into his mouth after he made a sally into hers, but that was okay... Her ass felt nice in his hands and her nipples poked his chest -- things appeared to be going fairly well... "Let's crash on the bed," he murmured, stepping back, "I need to get to work on that..." 'That' was Erin's furry little beaver; Randall cupped it in his hand.

"Oh! Okay!" Erin jumped a foot at the contact, but Randall seemed to know what he was doing... She backed onto the bed and Randall followed, resuming the attack on her pudenda with his right hand, rubbing her labia with three fingers while he lowered his lips to a stiff, pink nipple. "Ooooohhhh!" Nipple action and direct stimulation brought Erin's clit to its fully engorged state; Randall sure seemed to know what he was doing! So masterful!

Randall, however, was somewhere else entirely! How fast do you go when the girl seems willing to let you do anything you want? Was he rushing things? Would he mess things up if he kept moving quickly? Surely, Rob had gone to considerable warm-up -- did he need to, too, in the face of Erin's apparent urgency? His fingers found the little nub of her clit, but it was pretty dry down there, still. Could he afford to shift things to her opening for a bit to see if she was getting damp, or would that kill it for her? "How's that?"

"Oooohhh, God!" It was GREAT! Erin was excited like she hadn't been in a long time! This was a LOT better than masturbation!

"Well, let me know if you want anything..." Randall went back to the nipple he was working, slowly upping the pressure. He began gently chewing...

"Oh! Oh! OHH!" Erin thrashed.

"You okay?" Randall, withdrew his lips and teeth, worried.

"Uh HUH! Great!" Erin grabbed his head and urged him back into place. The nursing and teething at her nipples was causing intense flashes of sensation in her tender nubs that rippled outward to enhance Randall's efforts at her clit.

Encouraged, Randall used further abuse of Erin's nipple as cover while he checked for moisture at her opening. Finding a bit, he worked his middle finger into her vagina, searching for more. Erin was the soul of cooperation, bending her knees and spreading her legs until they were flat on the bed. "Oooohhhh! Nice!" Her hand wanted his giant cock, but the way he was oriented, she couldn't reach it.

Randall worked some of Erin's juices back up her slot to ease the friction at her clitoris, which brought an even more intense reaction. Could he find a way to work both ends at once? Yeah. His thumb could ride her clitoris while his middle finger plumbed her channel. That worked, although he had to pay close attention so as not to just use one point of contact to support the other. Good thing, too -- she seemed pretty tight...

Erin was amazed -- where did he come up with these things? Randall supplied one wild sensation after another... She lay there, motionless, cataloguing the sensations...

... Which bothered Randall no end! Erin was moaning occasionally, and making the odd exclamation, but in the main, she was just breathing hoarsely through her nose. How excited WAS she? When should he move on? Well, her vaginal opening had dilated a bit, at least... Randall extracted his middle finger and replaced it with his ring finger, moistening it for a few seconds before working them both in. Erin moaned, "Oooooohhhh..." Well, THAT seemed okay. Three fingers shouldn't be required; he'd give her a couple of minutes of this and just go for it...

TWO FINGERS! That was SOOOO GOOD! Erin lay there, clenching and unclenching her fists, her face a rictus. God! She might even cum! Better hold still, so as not to joggle Randall's elbow...

Randall raised up to check on his play partner. From the look on her face, either she was loving it, or she was hating it -- but which wasn't clear... "How does that feel?"

"G-good! REAL good!" Erin got out.

Relieved, Randall asked, "Should I go on?"

"Uh huh."

Randall had had the foresight to fish the rubbers out of his pants and toss them on the bed; now he snatched one and tried to figure out how he was going to put it on while keeping her going. "Here, open this, will ya?"

Erin, glassy-eyed, snatched the rubber and started to work at the cover. Randall got up on his knees and reached across Erin to get at her left breast, ignored until now, twisting and tugging the nipple in an effort to keep her going while bringing his erection to her to mount the prophylactic on. This worked fine for Erin; the fingers weren't teeth, but were capable of considerable pressure, and she could finally get at that cock...

Either Erin was clumsy, or rubbers weren't fun -- or both! Randall gritted his teeth and hoped he wouldn't lose his erection while Erin rolled the damned thing on. Darla Jean and Peggy had spoiled him; neither of them had bothered with one, even though Darla Jean was unprotected. Well, maybe it would keep him from ejaculating too fast...

Erin didn't like the change in texture -- you couldn't jack a cock properly when it wore one. But she wasn't on birth control, soo... "Okay!"

Randall slid between Erin's splayed legs and began attempting insertion -- which wasn't easy, since Erin only got so wet. Mildly damp was more descriptive, and lubricated or not, a condom isn't any too slippery. But he made headway, and inch at a time; in a bit, back out to spread lubrication, in a bit more... Finally, after a minute and a half or so of abortive short-stroke activity, he was seated.

Erin was amazed that she took it all! She felt very full. Thus far, however, irritation of her membranes vied with pleasure; things weren't any too amazing. Maybe she should stick to little dicks? But soon Randall started moving with more authority, and she started loosening up; things went from marginal to very, very good in about ten seconds! Unfortunately, they hung there...

Randall set up a nice steady stroke and awaited results. The rubber attenuated things to the point that an immediate orgasm wasn't in the cards, so he shifted gears, testing his control -- a little higher, a little lower, faster, slower, long stroke, short stroke... Fairly quickly, it became apparent that no matter what he did, Erin was just going to lie there breathing funny and moaning periodically. Nothing seemed to impress her...

Actually, Erin was thrilled to death! Randall's cock felt wonderful, sawing in and out of her; it provided rich sensation -- but getting Erin to orgasm historically required several minutes' worth of dancing fingers on her clit. Had the insertion been easy at all, Randall might have succeeded in the first few moments, while the penetration was new and the clitoral stimulation he'd done before had her set up; a few good bangs to her clit, and she might have blown. But things hadn't gone that way, so now Erin was happy, but nowhere near an orgasm. Instead, she held herself still in order to keep things coming continuously and to provide a stable platform for Randall to try things on.

Randall was young and energetic, but he wasn't the Energizer Bunny! The rubber and the fight to get into Erin had attenuated things for him past the early urge to ejaculate prematurely that he had experienced with his previous two partners, and performance anxiety ladled atop a lengthy bout of continuous exercise was resulting in serious frustration! Erin's vagina had loosened up to the point that movement was almost frictionless -- which wasn't really a good thing -- and she just lay there, stiffening and relaxing at intervals, but otherwise not volunteering any effort or even advice on how to get her going. If Rob had managed to bring her to orgasm, he was a better man than Randall!

Actually, Randall had exceeded Rob's capabilities at the time of his conquest of Erin during foreplay; Erin had been one of Rob's first conquests, and he hadn't objectively done that well with her. Experience had honed Rob's skills quite a bit, but at the rate he was going, Randall would be objectively the better lover, in time. Randall was already MUCH better than Rob had been at the time he bedded Erin... Erin wasn't vocal, though, and Randall didn't know; certainly, nothing that she'd done or said was confidence-building. Randall tried deliberately bashing Erin's clitoris again, something he could only keep up for about a minute or so at a time...

Erin LOVED that! It was great! It was the best thing Randall did! But she needed him to go twice as long before she could get over the top...

Randall throttled back, exhausted, and stared failure in the face. Erin had gotten so loose, and she just laid there like a log... Nothing seemed to faze her, although she'd started to get red in the face a moment ago... What else could he do? She was too short to kiss, and didn't seem to be inclined. His position over her didn't allow for playing with her nipples again; he could raise up, maybe, but he didn't know if he could go on in an upright position. Schooling himself to keep from snarling, he asked, "How am I doing?"

"Oh, great!" Erin effused. "Wonderful! I love it!"

Was she jerking his chain? "You don't seem to have cum..."

"Noooo... I never have, this way, actually..."

"No?" What the fuck was he doing here, then?

"Uh uh. I generally have to beat the Hell out of my clit..."

Damn! There was NO WAY he could get at her clitoris! "Uh, maybe you should diddle yourself, then..."

"Oh! That's not right, is it?"

"Well, I read somewhere that some women just can't orgasm without clitoral stimulation." The look on Erin's face said, 'Am I a freak?' so he added, "A large percentage, actually. Why don't you try it?"

"Well, okay," Erin eyed him dubiously. Maybe she was a lesbian. Did a cock feel this good to a lesbian? It felt REALLY GOOD, a rich, full feeling with the added layer of being helpless beneath Randall's pounding attack. Tentatively, she went to work on her buzzing clit.

The little nub of flesh was already up, fully engorged, waiting for something to abuse pleasure out of it. In fact, it took no time at all for Erin to discover that she was three-quarters of the way to orgasm and the background of Randall's efforts were making it a LOT easier than usual. Erin's usual efforts at masturbation were like playing a lone guitar; Randall added a string ensemble in support, making for something richer, more powerful...

Two things happened almost immediately: Erin pinked up again, and her vagina tightened around Randall's cock! "Mmmmm, yeah! That's better, isn't it?" Randall started extracting pleasure from his work, as Erin's tightened inner lining increased his stimulation.

"Oh, boy! OHHHH BOY!" The constriction increased Erin's pleasure, too, which started a feedback loop. "Can I move my legs?" Suddenly, she couldn't hold still...

"Sure..." Randall didn't know how she'd managed to stay splayed for so long without cramping, anyway. Hey, was her ass moving?

It was. Erin was starting to show a bit of muted animation all over. As much as she tried to hold still, her ass clenched, and her knees wiggled, and her pussy was gripping, relaxing, gripping, relaxing... Her control was shredding; the harsh buzz in her clit said a BIG one was coming -- but that seemed to be the least of it! Randall was generating something that seemed to hover out there, huge; when the familiar pop went off, the dam would break and she would drown! Instinctively fearing inundation, she withdrew her fingers from her clitoris.

But it was too late; she'd have gotten there, anyway, and maybe it would have been gentler, but Randall had sensed her excitement, and it had triggered a matching excitement in him. The tickle in his cock that presaged orgasm came upon him and he started sledge hammering her pubic mound in a last minute effort to bring her home.

"OOOH MY GOOOOOD!" Erin wailed. Randall's pounding turned out to be even better than her fingers in that moment; shock waves of pleasure poured from her vagina and clitoris, sweeping everything before them. Erin wrapped her legs behind Randall's thighs, clutching him to her while her clit detonated once, twice, three times! Randall pulled over the top by her reaction, jammed himself into her releasing his pent-up ejaculate. Erin felt the pulse against her cervix as it punched the tip of the rubber and went away...

Nobody was more surprised than Randall! Once she finally got going, her tunnel's rhythmic clasp was inescapable! He surged and grunted, firing the first pulse of his orgasm, and watched Erin's eyes roll up while her body clutched and hunched and shook...

"Erin... Erin? Are you okay?"

Erin swam to consciousness to see Randall eyeing her worriedly. She couldn't move; her entire body was drained, lethargic. Speech was an effort, too, "Mmmm... Yuh. Uh, yes, I'm okay..." Actually, 'okay' didn't BEGIN to describe it, but it would do for the moment.

Randall heaved a sigh. He'd been afraid that Erin had had a seizure or something when her eyes rolled up like that. "Are you sure?"

Erin laughed breathlessly. "Oh, Randall, I'm wonderful! You're wonderful! I CAME! Not just a little cum, like when I diddle -- a BIG cum! I NEVER came like that before! You're incredible!"

"Gee, I dunno. I wasn't doing that well until I told you that you should, uh, masturbate..."

"Oh, no!" Erin disagreed, shaking her head. "You were great from the start! I loved it -- I could have let you ride me all night!"

"Well, I wouldn't have lasted much longer." Randall grimaced. "You make it sound like I was accomplishing something. I... wasn't sure."

"You WERE! You wiped Rob with your fingers! I was afraid to move, for fear I'd screw it all up..."

"What?" Randall was nonplussed. "Uh, look -- it's, uh, better if you move... I thought I wasn't accomplishing ANYTHING!" Randall shook his head. "You were kind of, uh, wooden..."

"Oh. Bad?" Erin winced.

"Yeah. Sort of depressing. You can, uh, loosen up, right?"

"Yeah. At least, I think so." Was that why no one ever came back for seconds? Damn! She glanced away, embarrassed -- and picked up the clock. "God! Is it that late?"

Randall followed her eyes. "We were at it for quite a while..."

"My mom will be home soon!"

"Sounds like my cue..." Randall backed off.

The movie was a 'chick flick' -- a romantic comedy. On the initial pass, they decided that Mary should sit in the middle, so that she could claim to be with either of the boys, as necessary. But midway through the movie, Mary went to the bathroom -- and on her return, she murmured to Stick, "Scoot over. This is getting ridiculous." Stick ended up with an arm around Mary and an arm around Teddy, and everyone else's opinion be damned... The three of them had a great time, kidding each other over the foolishness going on on-screen and generally relaxing. Burgers afterward were similarly relaxed. Not until the boys delivered Mary home did seriousness intervene. "How are we going to handle the Astronomy Club meeting tomorrow?" she asked. "Teddy and I need to be there..."

"Who else?" Stick asked.

"Jimmy Hightower, Amy Kelleher, Randall Braithewaite, Darla Jean Nevins -- probably Danny the Wop and Thelma Franken, too."

"Why is this important?"

"When we needed an alibi for Teddy last weekend, Amy and I led Darla Jean into a set-up so that Randall could take a shot at her. Randall feels... responsible for the shit Darla Jean got into last night with Ted Phipps. He wants us to tell all..."

"Guess I can go to that," Stick allowed. "Think they'll make us?"

"They're the Brain Trust..." Mary replied.

"Does it matter?"

"No," Teddy volunteered. "They're cool."

"Awright," Stick grunted. "I'm goin' then."

"Cool." Teddy nodded. "See you in the morning, Mary." He popped up to kiss her good night.

"Night, Hon." Mary bussed him one. "Night Stick."

"Night, Baby." Stick stepped in and got his kiss, and the boys headed for the car. "Think we're really gonna keep a lid on this?" he asked Teddy.

"It'll come out, sooner or later," Teddy replied. "But it probably won't matter, if it's close enough to graduation. It really depends on who learns about it and what they think. My friends won't care, and they won't talk."

"Cool." Stick ruffled Teddy's locks.

Nate spent the whole trip back to the warehouse dreading what he'd find there. Roland eyed him in some amusement as he ranted and raved, but things were quiet when they got to the dock. DiAngelo was nowhere in sight, so Roland asked one of the other drivers what had gone on.

"Nuthin'. Nuthin' at all," the guy replied. "I think Di was pissed; they didn't even raise their voices at one another. Di went in to do some work a while ago, and nobody has come out..."

Roland and Nate shared a glance, and Roland grunted, "Let's clean up the truck before we go see which bodies hafta be disposed of..." Nate rolled his eyes and went to pull down some rain gear.

Twenty minutes later, Roland rapped on the office door. At DiAngelo's grunt, Roland and Nate entered to find him working at his desk, Stella working at her small one, and Nora seated in a chair, listening to her CD player. " 'Bout time you got back," DiAngelo grunted. "You wanna get her outta here so I can take care of business?" Stella glanced up; she knew what THAT meant.

Nora did, too. She snatched of her headset and rose to kiss her boyfriend, then turned to Stella. "Okay, Nate can talk nasty to you, but that's it, understand? Unless I'm here watching, you don't get any more."

Stella got this deer in the headlights look. "You'd watch?"

"I might." Nora eyed her a moment. "You'd like that, huh?"

"Oh, yeah!" Stella nodded. "A lot!" she added, earnestly.

Nora grinned. "We'll see." She turned to Nate. "Are you ready?"

"Yeh." He turned and led the way out, anger and embarrassment an aura around him.

DiAngelo stopped him at the door, "Kid! Saturday or Sunday?"

Nate stood glaring at Nora. She'd been going to get some input -- but now... "Sunday. Okay?"

"Fine. See ya then. Noon." DiAngelo waved his release.

Roland waited until the door closed before chuckling. "Well, Stella -- he's plenty mad. You might get some a' him after all, 'cause they might break up over this."

"You think?" Stella asked. "Damn! I think I'd rather have her watch than suck Nate's dick..."

Roland grunted laughter. "You're amazin'! If I'd a' got to ya first, I'd have a half-dozen little half-breed kids an' I wouldn't hafta work, 'cause you'd be peddlin' the leftovers at parties..."

Stella laughed. "Roland! You say the sweetest things! Been learning from Nate?"

"Awright, enough with the compliments! Get over here and kneel up!" DiAngelo grunted. "All this shit tonight's made me horny!"

"Me, too!" Stella agreed, stepping out of her skirt and crossing to her boss. "How do you want me?"

"On your back. Get up on the desk," DiAngelo replied. "How is it you two managed not ta rip each other's hair out?"

"She just wanted to make sure I didn't poach -- and she wanted to know why," Stella replied. "I'd never told a woman why... It was... hot." Stella dropped her head over the edge of the desk and eyed Roland upside-down. "Want some throat? I could use the extra..."

"If I don't plug the ol' lady tonight, SHE'LL be down here tomorra an' you WILL lose some hair!" Roland grunted. "How 'bout I see if Lou is around?" Stella nodded, her face flickering to DiAngelo's penetration at mid-nod. Roland shook his head and stalked out.

Nate was silent until they were in the car. "You coulda' fucked me up in there!" he ranted.

"I know, Honey," Nora replied, penitent, "but I didn't..."

"What else am I gonna hear about it?"

"Nothing," Nora replied. "Stella knows the rules. I'll want to know about it, but that's it..."

"That AIN'T it, and you KNOW it!" Nate ranted. "Did you see the look on her face when you said you might watch? She gets off on stuff like that!"

"Oh, I know," Nora agreed, "she told me her whole sordid history! Your boss is lucky -- she's a classic submissive!"

"Well, YOU'RE gonna be submissive tonight!" Nate ranted. "I'm gonna beat that ass..."

"Okay." Nora's eyes took on a gleam. "If you don't damage it too much, maybe you'll want to fuck it..."

"You're trying' to distract me!" Nate admonished.

"Yeah," Nora agreed, eyeing him sidelong. "Is it working?"

"No." A second or two went by, and Nate shrugged, rolling his eyes, "Yeh. You're still gonna get it, though."

"Okay." 'We'll see...'

Velma sat in the kitchen, stoically riding out some mild cramping while awaiting the kids' return. The 'morning after' pill probably wasn't required -- Beckman had confirmed that she was nowhere near ovulation -- but he'd ranted and raved at her about the perils of pregnancy for a woman with her issues with weight and a family history of high blood pressure. Then he'd given her a shot that was supposed to last three months; if it turned out that she needed it, she could renew it then -- if not, she could go back off birth control. Velma REALLY, REALLY wanted to be a candidate for more shots...

The kids came in, and Velma got up and put dinner in front of them. Miss Nora was obviously buttering young Mistah Nate up over sumpthin'; she musta stepped in it somewheres. Velma figured that was a good thing; the man oughta wear the pants in the family, in her mind. She wasn't used to anyone really running HER life (work didn't count), but she enjoyed the way ol' Ed argued and fought and pushed and prodded at her barriers -- it added a lot of spice to their relationship... Which, of course begged the question -- did they HAVE a relationship? Ed had been quick with meals and run and hid after; had the sock thing been too much? It had certainly been funny at the time... Mebbe he was just busy -- there was a lot of hammerin' an' such goin' on...

There was, too. Ed was VERY busy, extending Jason's rooms by connecting them to the next suite. Jason was making his life difficult by insisting that he keep everything in his suite squeaky clean while he did it, too, which required a ton of extra effort and inconvenience. Inez had stood by all day, except for a period when she left in the afternoon, constantly dusting and cleaning, but sawdust and sheetrock was messy stuff; Jason had bitched and bitched on his return from the office, and Ed had to go to Inez's aid to keep her from getting the strap. Fortunately, the pass-thru was about done; that left some adjustments to the other suite itself to set it up the way Jason wanted it. There was still an open question over whether a connecting door to the playroom was required -- but seeing some of the changes Jason had requested for the suite itself, Ed didn't see any reason for it. Another oddity was the odd color that Inez, with Jason's approval, picked for the small room just inside the pass-thru -- a happy little pastel that Ed associated with nurseries... Jason had requested an intercom from the room to his bedroom, too, disconnected from the main house system. Odd. Even odder, given the Boss' standing orders on such things, the Boss had approved it when Ed braced him with the requirement. "I don't need to know what goes on in there," the Boss had grunted. Weird. Ed covered his ass by making it easy to plug into the house system, eventually.

Chase entered Tabitha's room at the safe house. "Paul called. Says he's busy tonight and asked for a rain-check. And that he'll be in tomorrow." He eyed the skinny black woman. "What's up?"

"Nuthin' apparently," Tabitha grunted irascibly. "None a' yo' damn business, anyways!"

"Sorry," Chase grimaced.

"I wish I fuckin' knew, okay? Sumpthin' 'bout the big stupid fucker makes me all drippy! Ain't mutual, though," she sulked.

"Uh, okay." Chase discovered that he'd gotten more information than he really wanted. "Don't count him out just yet." He paused a second. "Why not Scott, or somebody..."

"Somebody black?" Tabitha filled in. "I dunno. Scott..." She couldn't explain it, but Scott struck her as weird as feet on a fish. Scott was a white guy in a brother suit -- nice, in a way, she guessed, but why not just DO the white guy? Scott just bothered her. Besides, it wasn't as if she'd never taken a white dick -- Hell, she probably did more o' them than blacks! Bruthuhs got pushy -- wanted to own your ass for fifty lousy bucks! Tabitha wasn't into the casual ownership thing. White boys tended to understand that it was a business proposition -- a short-term rental, and there were rules of occupancy... "Look, it's a one-off, probly. You ever get tickled by sumpthin' odd -- sumpthin' you never though you'd fuck with?"

"Yeah, now you mention it," Chase agreed. "Cool. Well, don't get too upset. Paul can be slow to come around, sometimes. You never know."

Paul, uncharacteristically, had lied. He was sitting in his small apartment, flipping channels on TV and trying to figure out why he was even entertaining the idea of bedding a skinny, wasted-looking black woman. But the crazy bitch set him off... It made no sense; she was a professional hooker -- not even high-end -- and a druggie. He was a professional, and she was his client -- that was reason enough to avoid her right there. But she didn't care... What the Hell did she see in him? And why on Earth would he seriously consider falling into bed with her?

"Mom?"

Sharon glanced up from her work, "Dear?"

"Do you have any... K-Y jelly?" Nora asked.

"What?"

"I... need some K-Y jelly..."

"Why?"

"MOM! Do I really have to draw you a picture?"

"Why?"

"I, uh, kind of stepped in it..."

"And you're buying Nate off?"

"Well, yeah, but we were going to do it soon, anyway..." Nora was positively purple.

"I don't have any. You could ask your father..." Sharon's smile would have done credit to a crocodile.

"MOM! Good God!"

"Well, we can try something else..." Sharon punched the intercom. "Felicia?"

"Mistress?"

"Do you have access to any personal lubricants?"

"Um, there might be something in the playroom. For you?"

"No, but I'll deliver it." Sharon eyed Nora.

"I'm on my way."

Sharon turned to Nora. "If you cherish your anonymity, you should leave. I'll bring it to you." Nora nodded and stepped out.

Moments later, the Wench appeared in the door. "How about Glide?"

"Is it okay for anal use?"

"Yeah. Not as long-lasting as some, but sometimes that's better, anally. You don't want to get TOO frictionless..." the Wench grinned, tossing a small squeeze bottle to Sharon. "Since it's not for you..."

"The list is pretty short?" Sharon smiled. "Nora is apparently offering Nate a bribe to ignore some trespass..."

"I saw them the other night. She wasn't going to keep THAT cherry for long..."

"Felicia!"

"He's playing with her ass constantly! She had less than a week, anyway! Trust me!"

"You're kidding, right?"

"He loves that ass! He can't keep his hands off of it! I've seen them!" the Wench laughed.

"Well, then..." Sharon waved dismissal.

Five minutes later, she rapped on Nora's door, then threw it open before her daughter and her boyfriend could react. "Here!" She tossed the bottle at Nora. "Oh, and Nate -- don't let her get away with whatever she's trying to weasel out of -- spank her first!"

Nora caught the bottle and flashed a look at Nate -- whose eyes carried a glint. "You promised!"

"I didn't have instructions from your Mama to tighten you up!"

"Since when do you listen to Mom?" Nora started backing across the bed.

"Since it's what I should be doin' in the first place!" Nate lurched, and Nora's wrist was caught in a vise.

"Nate! Noooo!" Gawd, he was strong! Nora found herself across Nate's knees, AGAIN! "No! Not the jeans! DON'T!"

"Get 'em off!"

"Nate, please!"

"Now!" Smack!

"Owww! Nate!"

"Smack!"

"Okay! Okay!" Nora started skinning out of her jeans. "Can I stand up?"

Nate thought about it. "If you're quick."

"Can I have my arm?"

"What am I, stupid?"

"Nate!"

"Get 'em off!" The hand came up.

"Okay, okay!" Nora went to work, one-handed. "Nate, Honey..."

"Uh uh. Don't even start!"

"Look, you're not gonna..."

"I'm gonna catch shit for tonight FOREVER! We need to iron out who is boss, here! I love you, Baby, but damn!" There was a jerk, and Nora was back over his lap.

SMACK!

"Oww!"

SMACK!

"Nate!"

SMACK!

"Please!"

"Please what?"

"Uh, stop?"

"No, that ain't it." SMACK!

"Oww!"

SMACK!

"Okay, okay! I'm sorry!"

"You said THAT before we started!" SMACK!

"Oh, Gawd!"

SMACK!

There was something intensely satisfying about watching Nora's ass cheeks deform under the shock waves from the impacts.

SMACK!

Nora had gone silent, but was making the periodic convulsive twitches that said she was sobbing. Nate let her have five more -- more because it pleased him than because she needed them -- and raised her up. "You gonna be good?" He got a wet face in his shoulder, but it was nodding. "Awright." He rubbed her back, holding her while she settled down.

It took ten minutes before she pulled away. "What about...?"

"It can wait. It's mine, ain't it?"

"Uh huh."

"Let's go to bed. If it happens, it happens."

It didn't. They made long, slow, soft love in which orgasms were no less intense for having only elicited a soft, emphatic grunt.

"Traitor!" Nora glared at her mother from the breakfast table as she entered the kitchen on Friday morning...

Sharon shrugged. "I'm just doing my job -- making sure your father doesn't turn you into some leather-clad dominatrix." She got herself a cup of coffee while Velma stood by, watching to make sure Miz Sharon got all of her needs fulfilled. "Were you naughty? Did you deserve it?"

"Maybe. But other couples..."

"One thing your father has taught me is that just because some people act like lemmings, you don't have to. I know Nate keeps things to an area that MY mother and father felt free to use, and if it was that bad, it would be an issue between YOU, not an issue between US. Besides, Nate enjoys it." Sharon's eyes conveyed the final message in her response, '...and you do, too!'

"Well..." Nora dropped her eyes; that final message was the most damning. Nate's spankings hurt like Hell, but she got a kind of emotional release from them.

Sharon's eyes swiveled to Nate. "Nate, a reminder. When it's punishment, it's always over, afterward. You don't bring it back, again and again. If it ISN'T over, that's not the right way to handle it."

Nate eyed her. Mama Wilson was growin' up -- you could see it. She wasn't as tentative as she used to be. And he was clearly family... "What if it ain't punishment?"

Sharon looked mildly amused. "Then it isn't." She glanced away. "To have a woman in this family respond to a little recreational pain is not unheard of..."

"MOM!"

"What? I've had my nose rubbed in it! Wake up and smell the coffee!"

Velma, the only witness to this exchange who was not involved directly, turned away, thoroughly embarrassed. Well, they were da Boss' womenfolk...

Sharon, having sunk her barbs, was done. "Velma, I'll be eating in my office. Could you send me around half a grapefruit, a bagel, and coffee?"

"Yes, Miz Sharon. Yo' shoah yo' don' want more'n dat?" Velma's eyes blackmailed her for the sake of the younger generation's nutrition.

"Not today. I like more on occasion, but not always. I know where it goes." She glanced behind her at her ample fundament. "Besides, I'm not still a growing teen. You two could take on a little fruit..."

Nora rolled her eyes. "Yes, Mom."

Sharon shook her head and turned back toward her rooms.

The kids cleared out quickly after that, leaving Velma alone when Ed turned up for breakfast. "Whatchew want fer breakfast, ya fookin' rapist bastid?"

Ed looked momentarily like he'd been slapped. He'd been suffering some from yesterday's efforts in Jason's new family apartment, on top of a night of unaccustomed sex, and wasn't ready for a battle of wits. But a glance around said that this wasn't for public consumption, so he rallied. "Waffles, ya silly black slut! Strawberries an' whipped cream, and some bacon! I'm fuckin' starvin'! Can I get cream for my coffee outta them udders of yours?"

"Only if'n dat load o' babymakers yo' dumped in me takes hold!"

"Uhhh!" Ed discovered his defenses weren't up yet. His eyes flashed to Velma's, but she was grinning. Nonetheless, his unprepared reaction hurt her -- he could see it in her eyes -- and the longer he took to respond... "When would we know? Christmas? When the water broke?"

That was better. Velma realized she'd punched out a low blow only after she made the remark, but Ed's expression had hit back, hard. The recovery told her he was back on track... "Ah guess y'all gonna hafta come lissen ta mah belly evah day fo' awhile..."

"Shit. Be six months before a kid would make a dent in the noisy shit goin' on in THERE!" Ed laughed.

"Ah guess y'all'd hafta lissen HARD!" Velma turned away to start working on waffle batter. "Probly not a good idea, anyways. You'd probly git addicted ta the smell o' mah cooze..." She cracked an egg into the bowl and started measuring out pancake mix from the box. "Ah'd be shoah ta end up carryin' yoah kids if'n DAT happened, ya rapist bastid!"

It was the silence that told Velma that something was up. Ed was looking at the door, stricken. Boris was standing in the door, surprise writ large upon his face. Flicking his eyes from one participant to the other, he cleared his throat. "This is a private conversation, no?"

Velma rubbed her forehead, leaving a streak of flour. "Ah guess not any mo'..." Embarrassed, she turned back to what she was doing. Worse was the fact that she'd laid a torpedo in the water designed to see if Ed WOULD return -- and Boris had deflected it...

Boris glanced at Ed, who shrugged, embarrassed. Boris shrugged back -- it was none of HIS business... unless, perhaps, it WAS rape. "I'll come back."

"No, 'sokay," Velma muttered. "What yo' want ta eat?"

"What are you making?"

"Waffles an' bacon."

"That's fine." Boris got some coffee and settled himself gingerly at the table. Things were VERY quiet while Velma put the first waffle in the cooker and started the bacon. Boris broke the ice with a question, "So, how are the ren--, ah, repairs going?"

Ed took it up. "The renovations? Okay. Jason's a bastard about dust and shit, so I spend half my time with a shop vac, and Inez spends half of hers dusting the place." He ruminated a moment. "I can't understand why he's all particular about one of the spare rooms in the new area -- weird wall colors, and a special intercom connected to his bedroom..."

Velma pondered this while Boris murmured, "Really?"

"Yep. I braced the Boss on the intercom setup, an' he said somethin' like, 'I don't wanna know what goes on in there.' Weird thing is it isn't a place to bust on Inez -- he's got another room laid out for that..."

"What color is da walls?" Velma burst out.

"Washed-out lookin' pastel blue. Like a..."

"... Nursery?" Velma interjected, turning to Ed wide-eyed.

"Oh, ho lee shit!" Ed smacked his forehead. "That'd mean..."

"Inez is carryin'," Velma stated positively. "Ah KNOW Bianca ain't. An' she went ta the doc yestiddy." She eyed Ed significantly. "We went togethah..."

Ed absorbed this. So Velma HAD taken precautions. Did she just cover her ass for Wednesday night, or...

"Dat would explain why Mistah J was so pissed at her, fo' da last few days..."

"Whose do you think it is?" Boris wondered aloud.

Velma eyed the big Georgian as if he were a fool. "It be Mistah J's. Ain't no question. No way he'd keep her an' it othahwise."

"Hmph. I think you're right." Boris agreed.

"Ah am. Mistah J was serious pissed fo' a few days, but he be settlin' down. Ah'm guessin' dat was when he found out he was a daddy. If'n it was Raoul's, he wouldn'ta settled down. Inez'd be gone by now." Velma was absolutely positive. "Dat would explain why da Boss give her ta Mistah J as a slave. No way he'd a' done dat if da baby was Raoul's -- it'd a' opened da do' fo' Mistah J ta do crazy shit. Mistah J done leaned on her pretty hard, but wasn't no crazy shit..." It was a commentary on the nature of the household that the beatings and humiliation Inez had suffered wasn't considered 'crazy shit'. "Don' go blabbin'. Dere be some as knows who'll figger somebody talked, an' dat person's shit will be in da wind." Velma put the first waffle down in front of Ed, along with whipped topping and strawberries. "Bacon be up soon. Boris gets the nex' one."

Boris flicked Ed a sly glance that said, 'You get premium service, now?' Ed blushed. "Velma."

"Yah."

"Drag your lard ass over here."

"Whuffo'?"

"Jus' do it."

Velma left the bacon and shuffled over, "What?"

Ed stood and took his napkin to her face, working on the streaks of pancake mix. "White ain't your makeup color." Velma suffered this attention shakily. "So, ain't no kids this week?"

Velma glanced at Boris and licked her lips. "Not fo' a while." She locked eyes with him. "Ain't the way Ah'd do things."

Ed nodded and sat. "Goin' to burn that bacon..."

"An' dat be MAH fault? Wit' yo' jogglin' mah elbow, tellin' me what ta do?" Velma lumbered back to the stove.

"Ain't used to that, huh?" Ed grinned, plopping whipped topping on his waffle.

"No, Ah ain't! An' don' YOU git any ideas 'bout it, yo' ra-, uh, yo' ol' bastid!"

Conversation lapsed. The bacon arrived with Boris' waffle moments later, and Velma laid out the syrup, knowing Boris liked that better than more non-traditional toppings. Ed wolfed his portion down and stood. "I'm outta here," he announced, moving to the coffee pot. "Got to go finish up in there."

"Ah thought yo' wanted cream fer dat?" Velma flicked a glance at Ed's cup.

Ed sauntered up close, laughing, "You know better!" Leaning in, he whispered, "I like my coffee like I like my women -- Hot and black..."

"You!" Shock transfixed her long enough for him to get out of reach. She flicked her eyes to Boris, who assumed a neutral expression -- which told her he'd heard the whisper, too.

Boris applied himself to his waffle for a bit, but gradually he decided that he might have a need to know, after all. "How long has this been going on?"

"What?"

"Velma..."

"Coupla days. Weird shit started Monday or Tuesday. He jes' sudden started talkin' shit, an' Ah started back... Nex' thing Ah know..." She shrugged.

"What's this about a rape?"

Velma sighed, waved a heavy arm. "Wasn't. We was talkin' shit an' Ah sorta dared him. He come in mah room pretendin' ta be drunk -- but his breath smelled lahk vodka, an' tha rest o' him smelled lahk da scotch bottle he was luggin'. Ah didn't put up much of a fight..." She sighed. "It's kinda a game -- Ah swear he raped me an' he swears he was outta his head drunk. Truth is, both a' us needed ta fook."

"Is there going to be trouble?"

"Naw," Velma sighed. "Well, only if'n he teases me an don't come back... If'n he don' wan no mo', dat's okay," Velma's expression said otherwise, "but he's gonna hafta lay off da other stuff, den."

Boris nodded. "That's fair. Should I speak to him?"

"Naw. Ya might..."

"Stop him?"

"Yah." Velma managed to blush.

"Okay." Boris got up, filled his coffee cup, saluted her with it, and wandered out, smiling gently.

"Ah'm a fallen woman," Velma husked to herself.

Bianca walked in and began quickly putting together her own breakfast of a bagel and cream cheese; a glance at the clock said she had no time for anything else. "Yo' runnin' late?" Velma asked her.

"I have to rely more on my alarm," Bianca replied. "Mama has other concerns." Velma nodded, chuckling. Bianca eyed her for a moment and muttered, "Velma..."

"Not right now," Velma shut it off. "Ah've had enough true confessions dis mornin'. Ya'll come back an' see me later if'n yo' want da skinny, Chile."

"Okay." Bianca hit the door, grinning, around her bagel.

"Randall? You don't suppose..."

"Huh?" Randall spun. Erin. Goo-goo eyed. Uh oh. "I, uh, think we accomplished what we set out to do. If you remember what you've learned, you should be fine..."

"Oh." Erin was visibly depressed. "Well, if you ever..."

"Um, yeah." Randall looked around. There were at least fourteen people watching the exchange, most of whom were female. Ah, SHIT! Louise Bryant! "You need to set your sights on something that will get you somewhere in the long run, you know?"

"Um, yeah." Erin nodded. "Got any ideas?"

Randall rubbed his forehead. "That's, uh, kind of up to you." Jeez, what an airhead! Louise was closing... "Look, I got to go. We can talk later, maybe, okay?" Erin followed his nervous glance and nodded. Randall squeezed her shoulder, (probably not a smart move), and got out of there.

Nonetheless, he was getting odd looks from half of the girls in school by noon, and Louise Bryant was EVERYWHERE! Gym class was SUPPOSED to be a safe haven, but Toby lit things up with "Ta ta ta TA ta TA! Let's give a big hand for our own Randall 'Superstud' Braithewaite!"

"Aw, shit, gimme a break, Toby!"

"Get back! Be careful in the showers! The hot rod might misfire!"

"Toby! ENOUGH, Man!" Randall ranted, "or I'll get Beulah Tyrone to swallow you!"

"You know Beulah, too?"

"Not like YOU will!" Randall replied. A dozen guys laughed.

"Okay, so what happened?" Toby asked. "Erin has been spreading it all over school that you're superman..."

"She's... misinformed."

"She's had Rob -- surely that's a basis for comparison..."

"Well, she had... challenges. I got really lucky -- and I'm not sure how it happened..."

"Is she good?"

"She can be, I think," Randall replied. "But not for YOU, Toby. YOU need a Mama. I'll talk to Peggy for you!"

"Peggy! EWWWWW!" That got rid of Toby! Still, there was a lot more good-natured ribbing, especially from guys who wouldn't normally be seen with him. Odd, how your stock went up, purely by accident...

Mary Nally accosted Darla Jean in the hallway, "You're coming tonight, right?"

"Astronomy Club? Are you sure you guys want to be seen with me?" Darla Jean asked.

"You're the guest of honor, Hon." Mary rested a hand on Darla Jean's shoulder.

"Oh, God! Am I gonna pull a train?"

"Hon, I think I ought to remind you that THIS is the bunch that PROTECTED your rep..." Mary remonstrated. "Besides, if you're concerned about who can generate the biggest scandal, I'LL be there -- with BOTH of my boyfriends -- and I GUARANTEE I can generate one that would sweep YOURS under the rug!"

"Then what's up?" Darla Jean queried.

"Randall seems to feel responsible for your downfall," Mary sighed. "Actually, you'd be surprised at the cast of characters involved, but if you come, we'll all lay it out for you in gory detail..."

Darla Jean shrugged. "Randall just opened the door..."

"I know that, but he doesn't. You opened HIS, for that matter -- and now he's trying to deal with a case of sudden notoriety..."

"Huh?"

"You haven't heard the legend that is 'Stud' Braithewaite?" Mary chided. "You HAVE been shunned!" She tittered. "Apparently Erin McGrath tripped him last night and became impaled on his cock; now she's telling the world that he makes Rob Graham look like an amateur!"

"No!"

"Yes! And poor Randall does NOT know what he's going to do with Bang Nation..." Mary released another titter. "You KNOW they don't meet his mental standards! Even a horndog like Randall has to be able to talk to his women occasionally..."

Darla Jean shook her head. On Saturday morning, looking around to see if she could do better had seemed the safe course; now, more and more it appeared that lightning had struck on the first pass, and she'd talked herself out of a good thing. Now Randall had a harem, and she had a reputation as a slut -- and something simple had become extremely complicated...

"I think Randall tripped over Erin running from Louise Bryant," Mary prattled on. "She's been all over him like a coat of paint. Although I don't really see what makes her so objectionable..."

Darla Jean shrugged. "Me either. In some ways she has more to work with than I do..."

"Well, I'm not sure what's up, but Randall can't STAND her -- and she apparently can't take a hint..." Mary mused a moment. "Maybe we should intervene..." She shrugged. "Meanwhile, are you coming?"

"I guess," Darla Jean sighed. "Are YOU gonna be there this time?" she asked archly.

"Promise. Cross my heart." Mary returned solemnly.

If you asked Randall what the problem with Louise was, you'd have unaccountably hit a stone wall -- Randall couldn't really verbalize it. In fact, it defied rational analysis, which paradoxically for Randall made the whole thing even more compelling! Louise just gave Randall the heebie-jeebies! Maybe it was her coloration; Louise was brown. Her skin was a shade that looked like a permanent tan -- not really a bad thing -- but her hair was brown, and her eyes were brown. Louise wasn't huge or anything, but she was just rounded enough to appear dowdy. She was eighteen, but gave off an aura that said 'spinster librarian', apparently twice her age. While Louise wasn't Brain Trust material, she could hold her own, intellectually -- she wasn't stupid, by any means -- but her personality could best be described as 'weak' or 'limp'. Her timid, sheep-like demeanor led her to accept the clothing choices of her controlling mother, items that papered over the fact that she sported 36C breasts and decent, if oddly muscular, legs by covering them in drab fabrics that made her a shapeless lump of shadow. Fact was, if you put Louise in a yellow bikini, the wolves would sit up and take notice -- but it had never happened, and at the current rate, it never would. Louise's big chance SHOULD have been the Prom -- many a girl made ground by proving that they cleaned up well at that function -- but she'd arrived stag in a hideous dress that contrived to de-emphasize her good points while making her look overweight and lost what was probably her only opportunity for some time.

Louise's method of attempting to attract Randall's attention reflected her lacks; basically, she was just contriving to be in his line of sight as often as possible, looking moon-eyed and dumbstruck. Randall was seriously unprepared to accept hero-worship; it embarrassed him and caused him to work at ignoring her. Since she would never think of saying a word to him, ignoring her was that much easier for Randall -- but the whole stalker scenario had him spooked. She was there, watching him from one table over while he nervously attacked his lunch when Mary hove into view with the word that Darla Jean would indeed be present for the Astronomy Club meeting. "Good," Randall sighed, "At least SOMETHING is going according to plan!"

"Problems?" Mary asked, amused.

Randall rolled his eyes. "Girls I've known since kindergarten are suddenly wandering by ogling me like I'm a museum exhibit. Have I grown horns, or something?"

Mary settled next to Teddy, chuckling. "Last week, you were getting NO attention, and complaining about THAT!"

"Well, yeah -- but it's the expectations! They're ridiculous! The first time things don't go perfectly with some girl, I'll get flushed down the toilet, too!" He leaned forward and added conspiratorially, "Besides, I'm NOT getting attention from anything I WANT..." flicking his eyes at Louise.

"Louise might be a catch..." Mary hazarded.

"Look, I can't explain it, but no thanks! She's just NOT my type! There's something..." He shuddered.

"Want me to see what I can do?" Mary asked.

"Would you?" Randall's eyes pled. "I can deal with most of them, but Louise... I can't even be nice to her! It's embarrassing, but..."

"Let me see what I can do." Mary hopped up and planted herself across from Louise, "Hey Louise. What's up?"

"Oh, nothing." Louise frowned gently; Mary had deliberately placed herself in Louise's line of sight to Randall.

"Why are you stalking Randall?"

"Stalking?" Louise frowned. "That's a strong word. He's just turned out to be a surprise. I was thinking maybe..."

"Well, don't, Hon. It'll just get you hurt. You're not Randall's type. In fact, you're freaking him out!"

"What?" Louise was taken aback. "I haven't done anything."

"Well, maybe not, but this thing you're doing, chasing him everywhere, looks like stalking. And all it's doing is making him nuts. You need to settle on somebody else, Hon."

Louise glared. "YOU just don't want competition!"

Mary pealed laughter. "Hon, I have TWO, count 'em, TWO boyfriends! My mother thinks I'm a total slut! I've got neither time nor interest in Randall, except as a friend of Teddy's!" She leaned forward. "But that doesn't change the facts, and the fact is, Randall is embarrassed about it, but he is NOT interested in you at all!"

"Well..." Louise looked frustrated, "Why not?"

"He can't put a finger on it..." Mary shrugged. "Let's come at this from a different direction. Why are YOU suddenly interested in HIM?"

Louise blushed. "Ummm..."

"Sex? That's the only thing that has suddenly distinguished Randall in the past week," Mary answered her own question. "Are you into sex?" Mary eyed the other girl closely. "Have you even HAD sex?"

"Mary!" Louise had been dating her fingers fairly regularly since she was thirteen, but she'd never even been to first base! "Well, no, but I've got urges. Sex isn't it -- at least, not the whole thing. I want a boyfriend."

Mary looked perplexed. "Then why Randall? Do you think you can really put up with the nerdy guy stuff he does all the time? What about that hair?"

"Gee, I dunno," Louise mumbled, picking at a french fry. "I guess I figured if he was that good at sex, and that nice to a girl..."

"... Everything else was forgivable?" Mary shook her head. "Don't settle, Louise. You'll only end up unhappy."

"That's easy for YOU to say!" Louise glared. "I've got nothing! Besides, sex might be really big!"

"You need to know -- not guess." Mary sat back and eyed Louise. "What are you willing to do to get a boy?"

Louise hesitated, then leaned forward, "Anything."

"Anything? That covers a lot of ground!"

"What have YOU done?" Louise challenged.

Mary shrugged. "Well, quite a bit. And the jury's not in. But if you prostitute yourself to get married, and then you slack off, you'll end up divorced -- guys don't like that. You need to try to cover more bases if you're gonna try to handle the whole thing in one shot... What ELSE do you want?"

"Well, all the regular stuff... Good-looking, reasonably smart -- not up to Randall, maybe, but reasonably -- nice and considerate, but kinda in charge..." Louise sat a moment, musing. "And I REALLY think the sex thing will be important."

"How important? Randall's a stud, by all accounts; Peggy said she flat couldn't handle him! Maybe you should look for something less intimidating..." Mary snapped her fingers. "You know, Randall isn't the only guy who's turned up on the 'sexually adequate' list this week. I wouldn't wish Ted on a German Shepherd, due to the way he treats people, but... Have you ever considered Dwayne?"

"Dwayne's a jock."

"Which means?"

"He's got girls falling all over him, no doubt."

"Uh huh. That's why it took Darla Jean all of three days to hunt him down? Guess again, Hon. But Darla Jean, who by all accounts is high-maintenance in the sack, considers him to be more than adequate. While he's not hung like King Kong and doesn't have the staying power of the Energizer Bunny, he gets the job done quite nicely -- and, maybe more important, he treats you nicely before, during, and after, something you WON'T get from Ted. Last but not least, he's good-looking and has nice buns..."

"More than adequate?" Louise cocked an eyebrow.

"Hey, talk to Darla Jean, if you want specifics. I just know that we had a girl talk about what REALLY happened to Darla Jean, and Ted came off as a rapist bastard, and Dwayne got the seal of approval..." Mary shrugged.

"No shot with Randall?" Louise confirmed, doubtfully.

"None," Mary confirmed. "He's embarrassed about it, because he thinks everything should have a logical explanation, but you bother him at a gut level. It's not something that you're gonna overcome."

"That sucks," Louise groused.

"Well, yeah," Mary agreed. "But it doesn't mean you have anything wrong with you -- it just means that you and Randall don't have any chemistry."

"That seems to be the case with me and a LOT of people," Louise sighed. "Thanks for the advice, anyway."

"Sure. Good luck." Mary hopped up and returned to her lunch.

"How did it go?" Randall asked, unwilling to risk a look at Louise.

"Well, I think," Mary sighed. "Poor thing -- she's just looking for a guy..."

"Well, she's gone," Teddy observed.

"That's ONE down!" Randall muttered, exasperated.

"This will all blow over inside a month and you'll be wishing you'd ridden it harder," Mary predicted.

"Maybe." Randall wasn't convinced.