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Subject: {ASSM} (Ruthie's 4) Betsy Laughed (MF, rom) by Jack of all Trades
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{ASSM} (Ruthie's 4) Betsy Laughed (MF, rom) by Jack of all
Trades


This work of fiction is for the entertainment of adults in
locations where it is legal. If it is illegal in your location,
don't read it! This work is copyrighted. Reposting or any other
use is strictly prohibited without the express, written
permission of the copyright holder. E-mail me, I'll probably
give you permission. I just want to know and control where it is
posted. This story may be posted as part of a review or to the
ASSM archive.

My thanks to Expert Editor, Ruthie, for her editing and
suggestions. Any errors you find are my fault not hers.

Tell me what you liked, or didn't like. Please!

E-mail address: jackofalltrades@post.com

My stories can be found at my website: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/j/wwwoat
or http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Jack_of_all_Trades/

Copyright 2000 by Jack of all Trades

One sentence isn't enough to properly express my gratitude to
Ruthie for everything she does. She knows how much she improved
this story. You'll just have to take my word for it.

This story is part of the "Ruthie's Foursome" project, which I
share with DrSpin, Mr Slot, and E.Z. Riter. You can read all
about it in the introduction that Ruthie posted. If you haven't
read it yet, I suggest you go do it now.

When Ruthie suggested this project to me, my initial reaction
was fear. My mind doesn't work well in a structured environment,
at least when it comes to writing. I've yet to have a story
actually end as I expect it to. Still, the idea intrigued me,
and she asked, so I had to at least try. Somehow Howard and
Betsy reached out to me, even though I hadn't created them. They
told me their story so I could share it with you. I love it when
that happens.


Betsy Laughed (MF, rom) by JackofallTrades A "Ruthie's Foursome"
story

I don't know what made me stop at the corner of the alley. It
was early spring and the air was cold and damp. The weatherman
had called for rain but the clouds weren't cooperating. I
suppose it was the chill that made me stand there and rub my
hands together for warmth, or maybe it was providence. More
likely, it was pure blind luck.

Suddenly I heard a woman's scream, short, as if it had been cut
off by something clamped over her mouth. Let it be, I told
myself, knowing I wouldn't follow my own advice. I couldn't.
Someone needed help and I was there, it was as simple as that. I
crept down the alley, staying in the shadows until I had a
chance to check out the situation.

In the dim light I saw them, three males, two of whom were
holding what looked like a female as she struggled to get free.
One had his hand clamped over her mouth. The third was ripping
at her clothes. I could hear the distinct sound of tearing cloth
and saw her shirt part, exposing her stomach and braless breasts
to the chill night air. It was time to make my presence known.

"Just what the fuck do you think you're doing?" I shouted at the
top of my lungs from the shadows. The two holding the woman
jumped, releasing their hold on her in their surprise. I moved
threateningly from the shadows and they bolted, leaving their
friend to face me alone. I caught the glint of the knife as he
whirled to face me.

"Back off, fucker!" he shouted. I was surprised at the
youthfulness of his voice. He couldn't have been more than
fourteen. "I've got a knife."

"So I see," I said calmly while I walked steadily, confidently
toward him.

"I'll fuck you up, man."

"Maybe, or maybe I'll take the knife from you and fuck you up.
You never know. Why don't you join your friends and get the hell
out of here?"

He glanced nervously at his intended victim. She was huddled
against the wall, sobbing softly. He looked back at me as I kept
advancing. "You're lucky, bitch!" he spat, then turned tail and
ran to join his friends.

I walked over to the woman, getting my first good look at her.
She appeared to be about seventeen, maybe eighteen, at a
stretch. She glanced up at me, her large eyes open wide in
fright as my shadow fell upon her. My heart stopped, my own eyes
had to be wide in surprise. The resemblance between her and
Cindy was remarkable.

Time heals all wounds, so they say, but time hadn't healed the
scars Cindy left on my soul. I was willing to give her
everything I had, anything I could, and in the end it wasn't
enough. She owned my heart, whether she cared to or not.

One day I came home early from work to surprise her. It was her
birthday and I carried a rose bouquet in my hand. I let myself
into the apartment quietly, then searched for her. I heard her
voice in the bedroom. I crept down the hall and found her. Cindy
was riding another man. Sweat glistened on her body as she moved
sensuously above him. She was beautiful and sexy, her head
thrown back in passion as the man's hands fondled her breasts
roughly. The same breasts I had lovingly nuzzled that morning
before going to work. I couldn't bear to watch. I turned and
walked quietly back to the living room, collapsing into a chair.
I heard the man's moans, Cindy's shrieks, as they concluded
their union and shredded my heart. Cindy left me that day, but
her betrayal never did. After she was gone, I let the roses die
on the carpet where they fell. It seemed right.

I shook my head to clear the painful memories. "It's okay, I'm
not going to hurt you," I said to the young woman, trying to
calm her.

"Th-they ripped my shirt," she sobbed.

"It'll be okay, you can get another."

"I, I don't have any money."

I studied her more closely. She had runaway written all over
her, surprising I hadn't seen it before. Lights from a turning
car shone down the alley and I could see that her hair was long
and brown, like Cindy's. She was shivering. "Are you cold?" She
nodded. I took off my jacket and draped it over her shoulders.
"Put it on, it'll help you warm up." She shrugged her arms into
the jacket, holding it tight around her.

"Thanks," she mumbled with a tremor to her voice.

"I don't suppose I could help you up so we could get out of this
alley?" I held out my hand. She regarded it warily, then reached
out and placed her small hand in mine. I pulled slightly,
helping her to her feet. "Come on." I started walking toward the
street, and she followed in my wake. We made it to the corner
and I stopped, waiting for her to catch up. The glow from the
streetlight revealed more details. She was pretty, about 5 foot
3 or so, not thin but definitely not fat, and her eyes were a
deep, rich brown.

"Thanks, mister." She began to take off the jacket.

"No, leave it on. Are you hungry?"

She regarded me suspiciously. "I told you, I don't have any
money."

"I heard. I'll treat, are you hungry?"

"I could eat."

"There's a coffee shop that stays open late on the next block.
We'll get something there."

We walked to the shop and I ordered coffee and doughnuts from
the street-side window. We sat down at one of their tables and I
pushed the doughnuts toward her. "Dig in." She grabbed a
doughnut and attacked it ravenously.

"It's good," she said around a mouthful of doughnut, the white
powder caking the corners of her lips.

"Eat the other, I'm not really hungry." She slowed her pace, no
longer stuffing it into her mouth as fast as she could chew. She
swallowed then sipped at her coffee. "I'm Howard Bloom," I said
holding out my hand.

The girl wiped her hand on her jeans then took mine. "Betsy
Powell."

"What are you running from, Betsy?"

Suspicion crept back into her eyes. "Who said I was running?"

"It's fairly obvious."

Betsy shrugged. "It's not like it's any big secret. My mom got
married. Her husband figured marrying her gave him rights to me,
too. So I took off."

"When?"

"About six weeks ago. It's not like anyone gives a rat's ass
where I am. Mom never really cared much for me and I'm eighteen
so they can't do nothing about it anyway."

"You have a place to stay?"

"I make do."

"Uh-huh. They have shelters..."

"Hah! I did that the first night I got here. Woke up to some
drunk pawing all over my tits. I'll find a place to lay up."

I nodded. "How did you end up in the alley?"

She cast her eyes downward. "That was a mistake. They said they
knew a place where I could crash for the night. They led me back
to the alley and next thing I knew, two of them grabbed me while
the other felt me up. I tried to stop it but couldn't. You saw
what happened," Betsy mumbled.

"Might have been your last mistake if that boy decided to use
his knife on you."

Her head came up, eyes glinting with anger. "I said it was a
mistake."

"Look, I've got a spare bedroom. Why don't you crash there for
the night?"

"What do you want back?"

Her question answered how she had managed to survive the past
six weeks. "Nothing."

"Nobody does nothing for free, everybody wants something."

I suppose her statement was true for someone in her predicament.
When you have little you usually pay most dearly. "I've got a
room, it's not being used, you're welcome to use it, and I don't
want a thing from you."

She smiled, not really believing me, but still said, "Okay." I
shoved the empty cardboard tray in the garbage slot, and we
left. I led her to my building and up the stairs to my
apartment, unlocking the door and inviting her inside. Betsy
looked around like she was taking inventory. I had gotten lazy
after Cindy left me. The apartment looked it.

"Gee, I like what you've done with it," she said sarcastically.

"It's a place to sleep."

"Barely. Mind if I take a shower?" I showed her to the bathroom
and gave her a towel from the linen closet. "Thanks," she said
as she closed the door.

A few minutes later I heard the shower running. I dropped into a
chair in the living room. Christ, I must be crazy. Rescuing her.
I had no choice. I had to do it. But inviting her back to my
apartment? I'd be lucky if I wasn't ripped off by morning. Lord,
she looked so much like Cindy it was scary. Memories, long
buried under the debris of life, came flooding back. I closed my
eyes and let them wash over me.

"Howard?"

I opened my eyes. "Jesus!" I exhaled in an explosion of breath.
Betsy stood before me, small beads of water glistening where she
hadn't dried. She was gorgeous. Rubens would have drooled at the
thought of painting her. Full, firm breasts, her nipples and
areola a deep dark brown, crinkled and erect. My eyes traveled
downward, took in the small swell of her stomach, the wispy
brown curls of her pubis. My cock throbbed in my pants. I wanted
her, now, desperately, hungrily.

She smiled knowingly, as if she could read my mind, but she
couldn't. My mind had ceased to function, hormones and a smaller
head were doing the thinking now. Betsy came over to me,
smelling of soap and youth and freshness. She knelt in front of
me, placing her hand in my lap, stroking me softly. I moaned,
wanting her more than ever. Somewhere, buried deep in the back
of my brain, an alarm sounded. Faint, barely more than a
whisper, hardly heard over the tympanic drumming of my heart.
Then louder, more urgent, demanding action. I covered her hand
with mine, stopped the stroking. "Stop," I groaned.

"What's the matter, don't you like it?" she asked, a puzzled
look on her face.

"I like it fine. You don't have to have sex with me to sleep
here."

"I pay my debts. I don't want charity!"

"It's not a debt. It isn't costing me a dime to let you sleep
here."

"You don't like me. I'm too fat, is that it? I'll get my things
and leave." She stood up, took a step toward the bathroom.
Jesus, she had an ass that almost stopped my heart.

"Stop!" I roared. "Betsy, you're unbelievably sexy and beautiful
and I'll kick myself in the morning for passing up this chance.
But I don't want to have sex with you out of some misguided
notion you have that you owe me something."

She turned back toward me, tears in her eyes. "Why do you have
to make things so complicated? Why can't we just have some fun
and I can leave in the morning not feeling like I owe you
anything?"

"Because you don't owe me anything, not now, not ever. And
because I'm a complicated man."

She smiled through her tears. "Men aren't complicated. In the
end they only want one thing."

"Some do, some... I want more."

"I can't give more," she wailed. "I won't."

"Then don't, I wasn't expecting it."

"I need to leave, I can't stay."

"It's late, sleep here, you can leave in the morning."

"And owe you my soul."

"And owe me nothing."

"It's not that simple."

"It is to me. The room's at the end of the hall." She went in
the bathroom and got her clothes. For a minute I thought she was
dressing to leave. Then she came out, her clothes clutched under
her arm, and padded naked down the hall. "I'll see you in the
morning," I said.

"Not if I can help it," she replied without even turning around.

Sleep never comes easily to me, tonight was worse than ever. I
tossed and turned, castigating myself for not taken something so
freely offered. Finally I slept, and dreamed of Cindy and Betsy,
and in the end only Betsy. When I awoke she was gone.

-----

I searched for her. I told myself just to make sure she was
okay, but there was more there than I was willing to admit.
Pathetic, a 34-year old man, searching for some eighteen-year
old Lolita who had captured his heart. If she was out there, I
couldn't find her. After two days I gave up. I slipped back into
my routine of walking the streets at night to tire my body and
make sleep come easier. I looked for her during those walks,
amongst the half-dead girls walking the streets, hustling for
money to line their pimp's pockets and purchase drugs to escape
their hell. She was not among them and I was thankful.

Friday I walked longer than usual. My body refused to tire so I
pressed on, needing the physical exhaustion like a junkie needs
a fix. I returned to my apartment and found her there, slumped
in front of the door, her face battered and bloody, clothes
ripped.

"Howard, please help," she said thickly, the words costing her
dearly, pain evident in her face.

I scooped her up in my arms and she gasped as I jostled her. I
carried her down the stairs, sat her inside my car, and drove to
the hospital emergency room. Along the way, Betsy passed out,
and I carried her inside. A triage nurse waved me past the line
of people waiting to fill out forms. I laid Betsy on a gurney. A
second nurse with a clipboard joined us.

"What the hell happened to her?"

"I don't know, I came home and found her laying in front of my
door like that."

"You know her name?"

"Betsy Powell."

"Age?"

"Eighteen."

"Next of kin?"

"No idea."

"Who are you?"

"Howard Bloom. I'm a friend."

The questions went on from there, fired in a rapid staccato as
one nurse fussed with Betsy, taking her temperature, blood
pressure, checking her vital signs, while the other jotted down
my answers.

A short time later a doctor joined us and examined Betsy. He
began firing off words to the nurse with the clipboard so fast I
couldn't keep up. Words like concussion, fracture, contusion,
with other medical terms mixed in. The litany frightened me,
made me wonder if Betsy would survive. One of the nurses said,
"She'll be okay, you need to wait outside," so I wandered out to
the waiting room where I sat and worried for two hours before
the nurse returned.

"The doctor wants to keep her overnight. She has a concussion
and a couple of fractured ribs. The rest are just cuts and
bruises that will heal quickly enough. Somebody roughed her up
pretty good. You have any idea who it was?"

"No, we're friends but not close. I haven't seen her in a couple
of days."

"They're taking her upstairs in a few minutes. You can go in and
say goodbye, then you should go home and get some sleep.
Visiting hours start at nine in the morning."

I returned to the emergency room and found Betsy's cubicle. She
was awake now and tried to smile. A corner of her mouth turned
up slightly and even that obviously caused pain. I walked over
to her, squeezed her hand gently. "Hey, " I said, giving her my
biggest hospital sunshine grin.

"Thanks," she croaked breathlessly.

"They're going to keep you in for a bit." She nodded slightly.
"I'll be back in the morning to check on you." A small tear
appeared at the corner of her eye, slid lazily across her cheek.
I wiped it away with the back of a finger. She nodded again. A
nurse came in and prepared the gurney to take her upstairs.

"You need to leave now," the nurse told me.

"Sleep well," I said to Betsy as I left.

I went home and tried to sleep. My body was exhausted but my
mind fought it. I kept picturing Betsy the way she was when I
found her, the way she looked laying in the emergency room.
Sleep came eventually but provided little rest.

The next morning I got Betsy's room number at the hospital's
information desk and hurried along the hallway. I sucked in a
deep breath when I saw her, eyes closed, apparently sleeping.
The bruises on her face shone in multi-colored hues and her body
was folded as if in pain. Betsy must have heard me enter because
she opened her blood-shot eyes. "Is it bad?" she asked softly.

I walked over to her, took her hand. "It's bad but they'll go
away. How are you feeling?"

"I hurt, but I'll live. Thanks for helping me."

"Don't mention it. What did they tell you about your injuries?"

"I have a concussion, two broken ribs, and some teeth knocked
loose."

"Who did it?"

"I don't know his name, that bastard. But I'd sure know him if I
saw him. And I didn't even get paid."

I felt only pity for her. "Going to press charges?" I asked.

Betsy looked away. "No."

If she expected an argument from me she didn't get it. "Good."
She turned back to me, surprised. "If you did, you'd have to go
to trial, he'd probably get six months, be out in three, then
come looking for you."

Awareness dawned in her eyes. "I hadn't thought of that."

"Still, you made the right choice. Once we get you out of here,
you're going to stay with me until you're on your feet again.
Then we'll find you a job and a place to live. You're not going
back on the streets."

She was shaking her head slowly side to side. "Why do you care?
Why are you doing these things for me?"

"To answer your last question first, because I care. I can't
stand seeing you hurt and broken. As for why I care, there's no
explanation, I just do. You remind me of someone."

"Cindy?"

The question shocked me, left me speechless for a moment. "How.
how did you know?"

"You talk in your sleep. I came to your room that first night
when I heard you talking. I thought you called my name. You were
thrashing about. I couldn't hear much, just my name and Cindy's.
Tell me about her."

"Not much to tell," I said evasively, not wanting her to push
the subject.

Her eyes welled with tears. "Please, please, I need to know."

Her pleading found my soft side. "Okay. Cindy and I met when she
ran her car into a telephone pole and I did the insurance
papers. That's my job, I'm an insurance adjuster. I checked out
her car and did the estimate to get it repaired. I ran into her
later at a restaurant. Some guy stood her up, so I invited her
to eat with me. One thing led to another. We began dating,
became lovers, then we broke up. That's about it." I tried to
make it sound casual, hide the way she broke my heart.

Betsy studied me for a moment, seeming to search for more clues
about who I was. Finally, she asked, "You still love her?"

It was really more a statement than a question. I answered it
anyway. "I did, I don't now."

She turned away. In a strained voice she said, "I'm getting
tired. I need to sleep for a bit. Why don't you go get something
to eat?" She wanted to be alone, I wasn't sure why, but if it
was in my power to give it to her, I would. I got up and left
the room. Faintly, as I stepped past the door, I thought I heard
a sob.

When I returned from the hospital cafeteria, the doctor was
signing Betsy out. He wrote her a prescription for painkillers
and told her to stay off her feet for a few days to give her
ribs a chance to heal. I got Betsy in my car and took her home.

Betsy wasn't exactly a model patient. She didn't like being
waited on and I soon drove her crazy. I got her some paperbacks
and magazines but they did little to relieve her boredom. I
moved the TV into her room and for a while it helped but by the
end of the day she was as restless as before. Only talking
seemed to keep her occupied. So we talked and filled in the
holes of each other's history before her late-night dose of
painkillers finally put her to sleep. For once, I fell asleep
easily.

I was awakened by the sound of a motor running. I got out of bed
to investigate. Betsy was standing in the middle of the living
room vacuuming the floor. Her only covering was a pair of my
boxer shorts and the tape slapped over her ribs. I pulled the
plug, the motor died, and Betsy looked over at me, clearly
annoyed. "Why'd you do that, Howard?" she asked.

"What's going on, Betsy?" I asked, my voice rising. "The doctor
told you to take it easy."

"If I don't do something I'm going to go bug-jumping crazy.
Please? I need to do something," she asked plaintively.

I thought for a moment, then gave in. How was I going to stop
her anyway? "Don't overdo it - and put on some clothing. It's
not that warm in here." She smiled. An easy victory. "I'm going
to the store to get us a few things. Will you be okay until I
get back?" She nodded.

I bought Betsy some clothes and rented a couple of videos. I
came back to find Betsy asleep on her bed and the apartment in a
whole lot better condition than when I left.

She healed rapidly, more a testament to her youth than my
questionable nursing skills. After a week or so I called a
friend and asked him for a favor. I had to wheedle but in the
end he agreed to my request. I told Betsy I found her a job, and
she seemed excited about it. I took her to my friend's office
the next day. She was to be the receptionist with light typing
duties when she wasn't answering the phone. Betsy took to the
job like a cat takes to sunlight through a window. After a few
weeks my friend called to thank me for sending her his way.

When Betsy got paid I took her to the bank and showed her how to
open an account. She glowed when she deposited her very first
paycheck. The following week, when she made her second deposit,
she began pestering me about paying part of the rent. I told her
to save the money for when she got an apartment of her own.

For the next few months we grew comfortable with each other. We
would watch TV together, go for walks, or just talk. I looked
for signs that Betsy wanted to move our relationship up a notch,
but there was nothing. She never said or did anything to make me
think she had feelings other than friendship for me. I didn't
press, not wanting to destroy whatever we had, and especially
not wanting to impose my feelings on her. If I asked, she would
have done anything, for no other reason than to repay me for
things I had done to help her. I couldn't accept love that way.

Betsy came home excited one day. She had gotten a small raise.
We celebrated by going out to dinner and Betsy insisted on
paying. She was so jazzed, it was hard not to be overwhelmed by
her enthusiasm. Betsy was breathtakingly beautiful in the glow
from the candle on our table. The meal was excellent and we
lingered over coffee, casually making conversation.

"So how fat is your bank account these days?" I asked.

"I have about $1,600 in it now," she said proudly.

"Wow! That much. We probably ought to start looking for an
apartment."

The glow that surrounded her seemed to dissipate into thin air.
"We probably should," she said softly.

"Come on, Betsy, pat yourself on the back. It wasn't so many
months ago you were living on the street. Soon you'll have an
apartment of your own. You should be proud of how far you've
come."

She looked at me strangely. "I am." Some of the glow returned
but not all.

We decided to walk home. To tell the truth I no longer needed
the walk to sleep. For some reason having Betsy there made sleep
easy. But I enjoyed the exercise and usually Betsy joined me.
She grabbed my hand as we walked. I attributed it to her
excitement. She never made any sign she wanted more.

The next weekend we spent searching for an apartment for Betsy.
She was difficult to please. Each one had some fatal flaw she
was unwilling to live with. "I guess you'll just have to put up
with me some more," Betsy said lightly.

"Maybe, but we haven't seen them all yet. Something will catch
your eye."

The next week was the same, and so was the week after. She
turned down some really nice apartments I thought were perfect
for her. The third week she found something she liked. It was
about two blocks from mine in a building that had been remodeled
recently. I didn't think it was as nice as some we saw but Betsy
raved over it. I asked the landlord for a few minutes alone so
we could talk over her decision.

"Are you sure it's what you want?" I asked her.

"Absolutely, it's close to work and all the things I want to be
close to. I think it's perfect."

"Betsy, I want to cover the first month's rent and the security
deposit for you."

"No! I want to do this on my own."

"I understand, but you still need to get furniture and stuff.
Please? Let me help you get started."

"It's too much, you've done too much already."

"It's only money, I don't have anything else to spend it on."

"Only if I can repay you."

"You don't have to."

"Then I won't take it."

"How about if you repay half of it."

"Three quarters."

I hung my head resignedly. "Deal."

Betsy squealed and wrapped her arms around me. "Thank you, thank
you so much. I couldn't have done any of this on my own." She
pressed her soft lips to mine, giving me a kiss full of
excitement and happiness.

"You just needed a hand," I said when she broke the kiss.
"Everything else was you."

Betsy called the landlord back in, then signed the lease and
wrote the check while he explained she had seven days to cancel
the contract should she want to back out. After then he would
have to keep her first month's rent. She nodded excitedly as she
dropped the pen and took the keys from his outstretched hand.

Betsy was so excited, almost prancing as we walked back to my
place. She chattered a mile a minute about all the furnishings
she wanted, the decorating she would do. It hadn't really sunk
in until then that she would be leaving me soon and I would be
alone again. That night, for the first time in a long while, I
couldn't get to sleep.

We spent the next few evenings traveling to furniture stores to
find the right items to furnish Betsy's apartment. She had
impeccable taste and a nose for bargains. She delighted in
negotiating with the salespeople. Betsy had never before known
the power money could bring. It was new and heady to have them
pursuing her. She bought a bedroom suite and a dinette with the
money she had accumulated. They were to be delivered Friday
morning.

We were riding home after making her final purchase. "Howard,
would you come to dinner Friday evening?"

"Of course."

"Would it be too much to ask you to dress up for it?"

"No. I'll dress up."

"Thank you, it means a lot to me. I'll miss living with you, but
I guess it's time for me to be on my own, don't you think?"

"Yes," I said glumly.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I guess I'm not feeling well."

Betsy stroked my cheek softly. "Poor baby. Who's going to take
care of you when I'm gone?"

I didn't want her to leave. I wanted to beg her to stay, to give
up her apartment and live with me forever. I wanted, God I
wanted, but I couldn't ruin her happiness to satisfy my selfish
needs.

Friday, Betsy took off from work and left my apartment early to
meet the furniture deliverymen. She took some clothes with her
to change into after she got the apartment the way she wanted
it. She kissed my cheek as she left. "Be there at six," she said
softly.

"I will." She nodded and went out the door.

At six, I knocked on her apartment door, sweating a little in my
suit. Betsy opened the door. She was stunning. She was wearing a
black dress cut low enough in the front to offer a tantalizing
view of her charms, and her hair was pinned up in a French
braid. She looked interestingly older, more mature, vibrant, and
I knew then I had made the right choice to help her get out on
her own. I stood there open mouthed.

Betsy laughed. "You like it?" she asked while doing a quick
pirouette.

"You're beautiful." I held out the red rose I had been hiding
behind my back.

"For me?" She kissed my cheek. "Thank you, no one ever gave me
flowers before." In rapid succession, she took my hand, pulled
me into the room, shut the door behind me, and seated me in the
small dining area. The dinette table was set for two, with two
long candles burning in the center. She went to the kitchen and
came back carrying our salads.

"It seems like a dream," Betsy said as she ate, "I can hardly
believe it's for real."

"It's real, you deserve it," I said as I put down my fork.

"Thanks. Finished?" I nodded. She stood up and collected the
plates, carrying them back into the kitchen. She returned with
dinner. "I hope you like veal."

"I love it."

"Good," she said, setting the plate in front of me. She sat down
and waited for me to begin. Betsy had cooked for us before at my
apartment. She wasn't a bad cook, but she wouldn't win any
awards either. I wasn't sure what to expect as I put a piece of
veal in my mouth. It was delicious, better than anything she had
ever cooked before.

"It's really good," I said.

Her smile lit up her face. We ate and talked, enjoying the meal
and each other's company. It was over much too soon and I
couldn't help the melancholy that descended over me as the time
for our parting approached.

"Howard, I want to tell you how much I love you for all you've
done for me. I owe you a debt I can never repay."

"Betsy..."

"No! My house, my rules. Here I can owe you if I want. You're a
wonderful man, Howard. You should have someone to love. Now that
I'm out of your hair, I hope you find her." I had the sinking
feeling she was about to dump me, but she continued, "Lord, what
will you think of me, I forgot the desert. Do you want coffee?"

"Please." I was despondent. What to do, what to do?

"Okay, I'll be back in a couple of minutes."

Desert would grant me a reprieve of at most a half-hour. I had
to tell her, had to let her know I loved her and let the chips
fall where they may. I couldn't bear the thought of losing a
chance with her because I wouldn't say the words. I closed my
eyes and tried to think of the right way to say what I needed to
say.

I could hear the hustle and bustle of Betsy working in the
kitchen, and soon the distinct aroma of coffee wafted into the
room. She would be back in a moment and I mentally rehearsed my
little speech one last time.

"Howard, close your eyes, I want this to be a surprise."

I closed my eyes and heard Betsy come into the room. "You can
open your eyes now," she said softly.

"Jesus!" The picture was indelibly burned onto my brain. I
stared at her naked beauty while Betsy reached up and took the
pins out of her hair. She shook her head, and her brown hair
cascaded down across her shoulders, framing the wonder of her
breasts.

"Coffee is brewed in the kitchen if you want it," she said. "But
maybe you want something more." Betsy giggled as she moved
toward me. "Somehow this scene looks familiar, doesn't it,
Howard? I think we've been here before."

I had no words to express this moment. I could only stutter,
"Betsy..."

She placed a finger to my lips. "My house, my rules. I get to
have my say, then if you feel like talking you can have yours.
Do you have any idea how long I've loved you? You're such a
pigheaded man, Howard. A girl has to prance nude in front of you
to get you to even take notice. I've loved you for a long time
and I've waited, waited patiently for you to love me. I'm tired
of waiting, Howard. Do you love me? You can talk now."

"Yes!"

"Good." She grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. "Let's go
find out how much." She led me to the bedroom, then undressed
me. I kicked off my shoes, stepped out of my clothes. She
wrapped her arms around me, our bodies melding together while we
kissed passionately.

"I love you," I whispered when we broke our kiss.

"You could have said it sooner, think of all we missed," she
said as she dropped to her knees in front of me. Her hands
caressed my butt while her tongue licked at my cock.

"Oh, God!"

"Prayer won't help you now," she laughed, then her full soft
lips surrounded my shaft and she slid me into her mouth.
Delicious tingles traveled all through my body, sweet waves of
pleasure consumed me. Sweat broke out across my brow, my body
shook with desire. Betsy's mouth slid slowly up and down my
shaft, her tongue seemingly everywhere, finding every little
nerve to heighten my pleasure. I groaned wordlessly as my cock
erupted in her mouth. Betsy swallowed my offering, her tongue
fluttering just under the head, coaxing every drop from inside
me. She slid my cock out of her mouth and smiled up at me. "I've
been dying to do that since the day I met you. Back then it
would have cost you $20."

If so, she had seriously under-priced herself. "Betsy..."

She stood up. "Shhh, that's all behind me. I can laugh about it
now." She offered her lips to mine, my taste lingering there.
Our tongues twined frantically while my hands caressed her
flanks, softly stroked the sides of her breasts.

Betsy pulled me to the bed and we climbed onto it. Lying side by
side, our hands explored each other. My fingers teased her
nipples to full hardness. I dipped my head to her breast and
sucked one into my mouth. I tongued her nipple while she cooed
her pleasure, her fingers held my head to her breast, softly
stroking through my hair. I abandoned Betsy's nipple, nipping it
as it slid from my mouth. Betsy gasped, then moaned her desire
while I trailed kisses across her stomach, through the soft
curls of her mound. Her legs spread as I arrived and my tongue
slid inside her folds, savoring her taste and searching for the
hard bud of her clit. My tongue traveled the length of her slit.
I dimly heard Betsy gasp when I found it. Her hips rolled under
me while my tongue prodded and stroked at her center.

"Oh, God, you can do that forever," she moaned.

My tongue circled her clit, occasionally flicking at it and
sending her hips into fits of bucking. Betsy's hands pulled at
my head, trying to hold me to the spot that would take her over.
I teased at her for a few minutes more, then sucked her clit
into my mouth, working it from side to side with my tongue while
she writhed through her orgasm against my face.

I crawled up and lay on my back beside her, waiting for her to
recover. She rolled up on her side, her hand stroking my chest
and playing with the hair. "I knew you'd be good." Her fingers
slid across my stomach, played through my pubic hair. Her hand
wrapped softly around my semi-erect cock. She started stroking
it lightly, coaxing it to life. Her soft hand made my cock
rapidly swell to its full length.

Betsy straddled my hips, slid backward until the head of my cock
nestled into her hole. We both groaned as she took me completely
inside her wetness. My hands cupped her breasts, tweaking her
nipples while her hips rose and fell on top of me. Her head
lolled back, occasionally whipping from side to side, fanning
her hair out around her. She changed angles, circled around me,
her hips bucking rapidly when she found some position she liked.
Sweat glistened on her skin as she picked up the pace, ground
against me violently. She gasped, moaned, collapsed trembling
upon me when she came.

I was close, so very close. I bucked my hips up into hers.
Betsy's teeth clamped into my shoulder, pain burned then turned
into pleasure and I slammed up into her again. She shrieked and
trembled on top of me, my cock throbbed inside her, spurting and
bucking in orgasm. I clutched her tightly to me. We lay there
for a while, resting, recovering.

"Howard," she murmured.

"Hmmm."

"You need to get some sleep."

"Why?"

"We gotta move furniture tomorrow. I'm canceling my lease."

"Gotta place to stay? I've got a spare room."

Betsy laughed.

END



--
Jack of all Trades

E-mail:  jackofalltrades@post.com

My stories can be found at my website:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/j/wwwoat
or
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Jack_of_all_Trades/

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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