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Subject: {ASSM} Deferred Pleasure (MF FMF MFM Oral Anal) {Kellis} [7/7]
Date: Wed, 5 Jul 2000 21:10:21 -0400
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Deferred Pleasure
a Novelette by Kellis
June, 2000
Chapter 7: Trust
Emily was the last passenger off the plane. A stewardess led her
up the ramp and into the concourse behind the stragglers. Gerry
watched Holly sweep her up in her arms. He smiled, feeling the
radiation of their obvious delight. She was the pretty child of
the photograph, dressed in a short skirt, socks and black patent
leather pumps. She squealed and kissed her mother full on the
lips.
When Holly at last put the child down, the stewardess passed over
the ticket stub and baggage claim check. Holly thanked her, put
the items in her purse, then took a small hand in her own.
She led the child to stand before Gerry. "Emily, here's someone
who wants to meet you very much."
He squatted, bringing his eyes approximately to the level of
hers. The girl regarded him gravely, expectantly.
"Emily, my name is Gerald Ballard. I am your real father."
The child's eyes grew round as saucers. She looked questioningly
up at her mother, who said cheerfully, "That's right, dear. This
is indeed your real father. I told you he would be here when you
came home."
The child turned back to Gerry. She studied his face and cocked
her head. "You look a lot like me."
He responded, "Yes, but I got this nose first."
She smiled and looked up again at her mother, who nodded. Little
arms came up around his neck and a soft cheek pressed his own.
He returned the hug and said gruffly but softly into her ear,
"Emily, you are a sweetheart."
She responded in the same low tone, "You smell good. Can I call
you 'Daddy?'"
"It's the right word, sweetness."
"Can I kiss you, too, Daddy?"
"I wish you would."
She kissed his cheek shyly. He turned his lips to hers. She
allowed the contact for only a second before drawing back. Her
eyes sparkled above an open-mouthed smile. She tilted her head
up and reported to her mother, "He kissed my lips!"
"He's your father, dear."
"A daddy can kiss lips?"
"Of course."
Her face turned immediately back. Her lips sought his and
pressed strongly. This time he was the one who pulled away,
because to his horror his tongue had automatically prepared to
invade her mouth.
She sighed. "Oh, I'm going to love having a Daddy!"
"And I a sweet daughter," he retorted. He stood up, lifting and
supporting her against his chest with an arm under her
well-padded buttocks. The child squealed and grinned around at
her mother. "Now I'm bigger than you!"
"A daddy can do that," Holly responded with a twinkle.
"Let's go get your bag," said Gerry, turning around.
Holly slipped her hand under his free arm as they strolled
away, leaning close and confiding, "To the best of my knowledge,
you are the first man to kiss her lips."
His face showed doubt. "She's five years old, Holly. Why do you
think so?"
"Exactly. She's five years old, the age when little girls learn
the right things to do. The only other man she knows is my
sister's husband. When he tried to kiss her lips, she refused
because I wasn't there to approve it."
"Did she!" He grinned at the little face close to his own. She
had not yet unwound her arms from his neck. "Smart girl! Always
ask Mommy first."
"I always do," she said solemnly and kissed his cheek. Her head
snuggled closer. Something hot and wet suddenly flicked into his
ear canal. Startled, he turned to face her but immediately found
her lips again pressing his. He was a moment recognizing the odd
burst of noises escaping through her nose. She was giggling.
* * * *
The man behind the desk looked up. "Gerald Ballard, 737, 80,
1311, right on time."
Gerry came to a stop before the desk, saying nothing.
"How are you feeling?" asked the man, paunchy, gray hair at his
temples. The paint on his office door proclaimed him as *A. M.
Yvers / Supervisor of Parole*.
"I'm waiting for you to tell me," said Gerry, mildly surprised to
discover that three weeks' freedom had broken his prisoner's
reticence.
The man frowned. "Adams was right: you've got an attitude."
Gerry couldn't resist it. "I knew you'd tell me."
The man leaned back in his chair and said coldly, "I was about to
offer you a seat, but I'm sure you'd rather stand up. Don't you
like it on the outside, Ballard?"
Gerry took a breath, thinking over his response. "This office
doesn't feel like the outside."
"That's right," Yvers retorted, eyes glinting. His finger fell
on a form open on his desk top. "Out there it's a lot of trouble
to get you back inside, but here all I have to do is check this
box and in you go."
Gerry suspected that it would be more complicated than that, even
for his parole officer, but he had pushed the man enough. "Yes,
sir. What can I do for you today, sir?"
Yvers nodded. "That's a little better. First, the drill. You
got any complaints?"
"No complaints."
The man checked something on the form and read from a lower line,
"Do you foresee any problems or difficulties with the terms of
your parole?"
"No, sir."
Check. "Is your place of residence the same as you reported last
week?"
"Yes, sir."
Check. "Are you employed at the same facility as you reported
last week?"
"Yes, sir."
Check. "Has any person convicted of a felony contacted you for
any purpose?"
"No, sir."
Check. "Have you had any contact with friends or relatives of
your victims?"
Fortunately Gerry had reacted quickly enough when Yvers had first
posed that question. Now he lied in the same tone of voice as
his truthful answers. "No, sir."
"Have you broken any law since last reporting?"
"No, sir."
The man looked up with a grin. "Not even spitting on the
sidewalk?"
"I've stayed away from sidewalks." This was the third time Gerry
had given the same answer to the same question. Did the man have
such a poor memory?
"All right," Yvers conceded, bringing another paper to the top of
his pile. "Your employer's bi-weekly report is here. They say
you're on time and your work is satisfactory. They claim you've
received your first paycheck. Is that right?"
"Yes, sir."
He made a note on the form and rotated still another paper to the
top. "This should interest you. We have a letter here from the
wife of your victim. She says some interesting things. She
wants you to have dinner with her Monday night."
Though Gerry had helped Holly compose that letter, he now reacted
with the expression of stupefaction that she had coached him to
display. "She wants *what*?"
The man laughed. "I thought that would get'cha! She has
something important to tell you. She'll meet you at the Double
Tex Steak House at seven on Monday."
"The Double Tex? I don't have a car."
"So take a taxi. You've got income. I really think you ought to
go. She's another one who can send you back with a word."
"I don't have enough income for meals at the Double Tex."
"She's doing the inviting."
"I thought I was strictly forbidden from coming near her."
"You are, but she's not forbidden to come near *you*! Let me
tell you, though, Ballard, if you get the least bit out of line
with her, it'll be a lot of years before you see her *or* the
Double Tex again."
"Yes, sir."
* * * *
Emily's arrival severely affected Gerry and Holly's intimacy.
From Sunday night until Friday night mother and daughter lived in
Holly's house, where the girl had neighborhood playmates, but
transferred on the weekends to Gerry's apartment, whose living
room couch, to his surprise, unfolded into a double bed soft
enough for the comfort of a child. Holly had thought ahead.
Almost invariably, however, the adults would discover the child
lying between them in their bed by morning, propelled, so she
said, by a fearful dream. When charged, Holly confessed that she
and her daughter customarily slept together.
Gerry's objection -- "But, Holly, we sleep naked!" -- was
dismissed with a chuckle and the disdainful question, "Do you
think ignorance is good for our kid?"
He discovered that the daughter had referred to more than his
aftershave in the airport concourse when she claimed that he
smelled good. She meant the odor of his skin. Perhaps that was
her reason for leaning against him and willingly scratching the
entire sweep of his back with her tiny nails as he sat up in bed,
bracing forward on his knees, the sheet primly tucked around his
hips. She would do so for several minutes. When she grew tired,
often her mother would continue the practice even longer. In
less than a month Gerry was thoroughly addicted to this waking
pleasure and missed it strongly on weekday mornings.
"Holly, when do you think we can, ah, move in together
permanently?"
She smiled coyly. "That usually happens when a couple gets
married."
"Married? Who bothers with that nowadays?"
She lost her smile. "Anyone who'd get sent back to prison if his
P. O. learned he's breaking the rules."
"Oh. Well, then, when can we ..." Gerry paused to take a
breath. "Get married?"
"I thought you'd never ask!"
"Seriously. Soon, I hope?"
"Do you want to marry me or our daughter?"
"Both, I guess."
She smiled broadly. "I like that answer."
"When?"
"Let's see. It's been six weeks since I invited you to dinner ..."
* * * *
"What did he say?" she asked before he could even get into the
car. Gerry allowed the door to slam and buckled his seat belt
before answering, which gave her time to add in horror, "He
didn't say *no*!"
"No." Gerry smiled, a hand on her knee to raise her skirt. "He
didn't say no. But you were right. He wasn't nearly as
flabbergasted as I expected."
"Well, for three months you've reported every week that you saw
me the previous week end. And if you recall, my letter told him
you were Emily's father. I'm sure he expected it. But what did
he *say*?"
She merged with the traffic as his fingers nosed under the edge
of her panties to find the clitoris. "Actually he surprised me.
He was full of fatherly advice."
"Fatherly? Like, are you sure you can support her?"
"Yeah, like that." His fingertip ducked under the lump into a
wet hollow. "I told him you would support *me*."
Her knee pressed against his leg. "Oh? And how did he take
that?"
"About as well as I have. But he did say something interesting.
He said, 'You'd better find out what she's up to.'"
"Did he!" She twisted restlessly as his finger dug deeper. A
second finger joined the first. "Did he offer any suggestions
about that?"
"As a matter of fact. 'When she gets you married and pinned
down,' he said, 'look out she doesn't make you the centerpiece at
an S and M party.'"
"He said *that*!" She took a moment to study his face. "You
devil, you're teasing me, aren't you?"
"A little," he admitted. "What *are* you up to, Holly?"
"Letting a suspicious man feel me up, that's what. I told you in
the beginning, if you stick with me you won't regret it. And I
mean it."
"Well, you're certainly right so far. Let's see. To date you've
brought us three women, plus Myrtle again, and had Arleigh back
twice. I'm learning to really appreciate your experience at
sex."
She glanced at him. "Are you being sarcastic?"
"Not at all. I mean it. I know a man's supposed to look for a
cherry, and all that, but ... Take that little mouse you turned
up a couple weeks ago: I've been meaning to ask you. How did you
know I wanted to try her alone?"
She grinned. "I've seen Sheena's effect on men before. She
whimpers and slobbers and makes *me* sick, but you men all love
it."
"Whimper! When you left the room she really cut loose. She
cried all over my dick but wouldn't let me come till it was up
her ass. You're right: thinking it over later it was all a
little bit ... weird."
"I'd say 'disgusting.'"
"If it wasn't an act. No one could be that afraid of a dick and
love it to death, too. But there was something about her act ...
She was very stimulating."
"Well, I'm glad you liked Sheena." She glanced at him again.
"Want her back?"
"Sometime, I guess. Speaking of that, I'm curious about Arleigh,
too. Why only him?"
"I thought you understood. Arleigh is a wimp. I won't bring
home anyone that might challenge you."
He thought that over. "I can understand *your* interest. What's
his?"
She laughed. "He keeps hoping to get the virgin."
"The what? You don't mean *me*!"
"Where am *I* a virgin? Oho! That feels really good, Gerry, but
if it gets any better I'll wreck the car."
He withdrew his hand and brought wet fingers to his nose. "Ah,
woman! Someday I hope to discover the source of that distinctive
odor."
She grunted. "I always thought it was mostly urine. You should
understand that a woman can never wipe the last drop out of all
those crooks and crannies."
"Maybe that's right most of the time. But I mean the odor when
you come straight from your bath. That's the pure pussy
piquancy."
She sniffed. "What a lyrical name for it!"
"I think so, too. When do you have to pick up Emily?"
She glanced at her wrist watch. "One hour from now."
"Damn! I've got a hard-on that's threatening this seat belt."
"Well, why didn't you say so?"
At that moment they were passing in front of a multi-story
medical building. Holly wheeled the Buick suddenly into the
underground parking garage, drove to the corner farthest from the
elevators and chose an empty slot away from other cars.
"Into the back seat!" she commanded, setting the parking brake
and switching off the ignition.
They had practiced this before. He first ran the front passenger
seat all the way forward. Before sitting down on the edge of the
back seat he dropped his trousers and shorts below his knees.
Holly, looking around the deserted garage, stepped out of her
panties before squatting over his lap. He closed the door. Her
hand between them guided him into her as she wiggled forward,
spreading her raised knees to either side, pressing her chest
firmly against his, letting her skirt bunch around her waist.
From her raised position she could detect approaching cars or
people through the back window -- when she kept her eyes open.
With her hips rolling vigorously back and forth upon him,
however, she could not resist dropping her head to kiss his
upturned forehead.
The speed of their motion was sufficiently close to the natural
frequency of the suspension system to bounce the car, especially
as orgasm approached. Any casual observer must have instantly
understood what was happening within it.
But Holly had chosen well. The cars in this part of the garage
were those belonging to the medical employees, required to park
farthest from the elevators. No one peered around the huge
columns that supported the great weight of the building above.
Their harmony of screams and moans, while audible beyond the
closed windows, was easily drowned by the noises of car engines
in other parts of the garage. Nevertheless when her awareness
recovered, Holly raised her head slowly above the back seat to
look fearfully around.
"God, darling!" she gasped. "I go nuts when you squirt *that*
much!"
He admitted, "It was a lot, wasn't it?"
"Didn't you jack off all *week*?"
"No. After you a fist is just too poor consolation."
"I'm flattered."
"You deserve it. And I dreamed about you every night. I dreamed
I was back in the slammer, but this time you were in there with
me."
"In your cell?"
"In my bunk. It's a wonder I didn't stain the sheets."
"I thought you said they don't give you sheets."
"I mean the ones in my apartment."
"What we're going to stain is my car seat. I can feel it running
out around your cock."
"We'll get it steamed. Don't get off yet. I love to keep it in
you."
"No more than I."
"You don't see anybody, do you?"
"Only with you. Believe me, after a week I want it at least as
much as you do!"
"I believe you. I meant, you don't see anybody in the garage."
She sniffed. "I wouldn't still be squatting on you if I did."
"Holly ... Don't get me wrong. I love your imagination and
experience and pleasure in, ah, extra people, but these little
sudden stops of yours are the sweetest of all."
"I think so, too. We seem to be wonderfully compatible, Gerry,
at least in sexual matters. We haven't done much else."
"*I* haven't done much else!"
"No." She dropped her face into his hair. Her voice was
muffled. "Do you think you can ever ... forgive me for that?"
"Isn't that what our marriage will mean?"
"Oh, will it, Gerry?" she breathed, raising up to look into his
eyes.
"A clean slate between Gerry and Holly... Speaking of marriage,
I signed that prenuptial agreement you left on the kitchen table
Sunday night."
"You found it, then."
"Yes. Who wrote that final clause, the one that was added in a
different font? You?"
"Final clause?"
"Yeah. It said, if I remember it right, basically that neither
one was responsible for or could collect on any legal or
financial arrangements remaining from before the marriage. Does
that mean our marriage is automatically over if I have to go back
to prison?"
"I don't know. My lawyer put that on. The whole thing was his
idea."
"Well, it doesn't matter. I'm not going back to prison." Gerry
grinned. "I guess it also means if you bought a lottery ticket
today and it proves after the wedding to be a big winner, I don't
get any of the money."
"Does it?"
He shrugged. "What do I care? You plan to support me anyway."
"You say you signed it?"
"I did. It's still on the kitchen table."
"Then it must not bother you too much."
"No. I think you've convinced me, Holly."
"Of what?"
"That I can trust you."
"Do you mean that, Gerry?"
"Yes, I do." He stared up into her eyes. "If I'm playing the
fool again, at least it's a wonderful game."
"You still have doubts, don't you?"
"I don't think so, Holly. If you aren't the girl for me, then I
don't want any other."
* * * *
"Gerry, I want to show you something before we go in."
"You mean there's something about you I haven't seen?"
She smiled. "Not about me."
They were standing in a hall of the court house between a water
fountain and a trash can. Across the hall was a glazed door
emblazoned with the words, *Office / The Hon. C. Rodgers /
District Court Judge*. Holly took a paper from her coat and held
it up. It was the prenuptial agreement with the new final
clause. His signature appeared at the bottom of it but not hers.
His eyebrows rose inquiringly. She held the document over the
trash can and slowly tore it in half lengthwise, then combined
the two and tore them again, then once more, letting the pieces
flutter into the can.
"What are you doing, Holly?"
"Showing you that both of us will trust the other. Are you ready
to give up your freedom again?"
"Yes," he answered gravely. "And you, my dear: are you ready for
it?"
Her eyes twinkled. "I'm all yours, Gerry. No reservations. And
no more red monkey wrenches."
"Then let's make it legal, before you come to your senses."
"Or you. Do you know what day it is?"
"Our wedding day, if you'll quit stalling."
"Exactly five months ago today you stepped off the bus from
Horrypine."
"My god! That's right, isn't it!"
"And I seduced you for the second time."
He stared at her. Slowly his lips stretched in a grin. "I told
you: I'm just a sucker for Holly Moore."
"About to become Holly Ballard."
"Shall we get on with it, Miss Ballard-to-be?"
She smiled and put her arm through his. "I'm glad you're
impatient, Mr. Ballard. Let's go."
* * * *
Gerry was given the next Monday off from work as a wedding
present from his employer. He was awakened at seven A. M., now
in the king-sized bed in the modern house that last week had
become his property shared with Holly, to his first-ever Monday
morning back-scratching administered by his now fully
acknowledged daughter.
"Where's Mommy?" he asked when he was awake enough to notice that
he and Emily were alone in the bed.
"Fixing breakfast," answered the child, happily scraping and
sniffing his back.
Shortly he was served bacon and eggs in bed, with appropriate
liquids and accessories. He remarked in awe, "So this is how
married men live!"
Holly smiled. "When their wives are grateful. Come on, Emily,
and eat your cereal. We have to get you to kindergarten in 45
minutes."
When the woman returned from that errand, she sagged with a sigh
on the foot of the bed. Gerry put down his newspaper to study
her. She sat pondering the floor.
He said, "I miss our morning sunbeam."
She responded without looking up, "Even in the apartment we only
had it in August and September."
"That's right, because the sun moves. But that means we'd have
it in April and May, too."
"Would we?" She looked up at last. "Then let's keep the
apartment."
"Can we afford that?"
"Oh, yes. Honey, could you get up and get dressed?"
He leered. "I could. And you could get *un*dressed!"
She took a breath. "After we see the lawyer, I'll come back and
be as naked as you want. I'll try to turn myself inside out, if
it pleases you."
"That sounds kinky!" His eyes narrowed. "A lawyer? Ready to
divorce me so soon?"
"Not that kind of lawyer. Gerry ... we have an appointment at
ten."
He stared at her. "Once again, what are you up to, Holly?"
"You'll know in an hour, if you'll get up. This time you'll know
it all." Suddenly she rose and fell into his arms, her cheek
against his. "Gerry, oh, god, Gerry! You've got to believe me:
I love you!"
Gently he held her far enough away that he could see her brimming
eyes. "Holly," he mused in wonder, "we never said that to each
other. I just now realized it."
"I was afraid to say it, afraid to hear you say you could never
love the woman that framed you for murdering her husband." She
sniffed back tears. "But now you have to know it, Gerry, my
love. I do love you. I'll admit, I didn't when I picked you up
from the bus. I had an ulterior motive for that -- very
ulterior! But, Gerry, you're the finest man I've ever known.
You're tender, sweet and loving to me and our daughter, even if
you only tolerate me for the sex, and the things you're missing,
mainly education and polish, are my fault -- which I swear I'll
help you get. I've learned to love you and I hope you'll
remember that in the lawyer's office."
"My god!" His face showed consternation. "What's he going to
tell me? What's worse than murdering your husband?"
"What I've done to you this time might be worse than what I did
at first." She took a deep breath. "I guess it depends on what
*you* think about it."
He gaped at her.
She was openly crying now. "But please, Gerry, please remember:
I love you. Emily and I are yours as long as you'll have us."
"I don't suppose you'll tell me what it is."
"Please. Please let the lawyer do it."
He wiped her cheeks with the end of the bedsheet. He smiled.
"Whatever you think you've done, at least so far it doesn't
hurt."
* * * *
Holly smiled politely. "Mr. Harvey, I'm afraid your secretary
was in error. I am now Mrs. Holly Ballard and this is Mr.
Ballard. Mr. Harvey, may I present my husband, Mr. Gerald
Ballard."
The lawyer, a slim fellow with a thin little mustache, rose from
his seat behind the desk, leaned across it and took Gerry's hand
briefly. "How do you do, Mr. Ballard?"
Without waiting for Gerry's response, he asked Holly, "When did
the wedding occur?"
"Last Wednesday, the twenty-sixth."
"Do you have the certificate?"
"Right here." Holly opened the brief case she had brought with
her and extracted a notarized document that she handed to the
man.
He scanned it quickly and looked up with a cocked eyebrow. "None
too soon, either. Your thirtieth is next month."
Holly raised her chin slightly but did not otherwise respond.
The lawyer asked, "And the other exhibits?"
"I have them. Do you need to see them again?"
"I want my secretary to make copies. All of this will of course
be returned to you."
Holly handed several other papers across.
"What's that?" asked Gerry.
"Emily's birth certificate," the woman answered, "plus hers and
your DNA patterns."
Gerry's brows knit, but he stood in waiting silence.
The lawyer scanned them perfunctorily and looked up. "Where is
the prenuptial agreement?"
She answered, "There is no prenuptial agreement."
The man's eyes narrowed. "And you got married anyway?"
"You see that I did."
"May I ask why?"
"It's very simple." Her face lit in a smile. "I happened to
fall in love with my husband."
"I see," the man remarked dryly. "I believe I warned you about
that."
"Congratulations on your knowledge of human nature," she retorted
with equal dryness.
"Just a minute --" Gerry began.
Holly held up her hand. "It's done. Do you acknowledge, Mr.
Harvey, that I have met all the conditions."
"Yes, ma'am, so it would seem. World Wide Charities will be very
sorry to hear it."
"I'm sure they have other sources. What's next, sir?"
"Will you both have seats? That's right, Mr. Ballard, just pull
that chair up to the desk. What's next is the accounting, but
first, would you please sign this, madam?"
He passed Holly a piece of cardboard about the size of a file
card. She glanced at it and looked up. "I want one of these for
my husband, too."
"Are you sure?"
"Quite sure."
"Very well." Harvey passed a similar card to Gerry. "Mr.
Ballard, will you please sign on the second line. Miss Naysmith --
that is, Mrs. Ballard -- is the primary holder."
Gerry studied it. Under the logo of a famous bank in the same
building as Harvey's office he saw *Signature Authentication
Card* followed by a ten-digit account number. Below it were two
signature lines, labeled *Primary* and *Secondary* followed by a
line for the date.
The lawyer advised, "You'll have to take those cards to the bank
to get your retina scans done."
Gerry asked, "Is this what it appears to be?"
"It allows you to withdraw any amount less than $10,000 from that
account. For larger sums you will have to submit to a retinal
scan, as required by the federal law passed last year."
Gerry smiled. "I guess we won't have to sweat retinas. Are we
opening an account, Holly?"
"The account is already opened," declared the lawyer. He punched
a button on his intercom. "Patricia, I need you as a witness."
"I'll be right there," was the hollow-sounding response. A
moment later the door opened. The legal secretary entered and
took a seat.
The lawyer moved a document to the top of his pile. "I have here
a summary of the conditions that you have met, Mrs. Ballard, and
the financial state of the account. Please listen closely so
that my secretary can truthfully witness your understanding of
these proceedings.
"On the death of Mrs. Ballard's grandfather, Anton R. Naysmith,
on July 15, 1981, a trust fund was established according to the
terms of his will, consisting of half the liquidation proceeds of
his equity holdings in the IBM Corporation, less estate taxes.
The fund was initialized at $2,140,000. From that time until
today, a total of 24 and a half years, the total amount has been
invested in the money markets at an average effective rate of
return, after fees and taxes, of 6.3 per-cent per annum. The
value of that fund as of this morning is $9,977,000, due entirely
to the effect of compound interest and careful management.
"Mr. Naysmith's will stipulated certain conditions on the
disbursement of these funds, described as follows: The entire
amount is to be paid over to Miss Holly Maurine Naysmith, now
legally Mrs. Holly Naysmith Ballard, on her thirtieth birthday or
sooner at the discretion of the trustee -- this legal firm -- if
she has succeeded in giving birth to one or more living children
and is legally married to and living with the man proven to be
the father of all her children. The will stated that the reason
for these conditions was to persuade her to form a stable family.
A second fund of the same size was established in favor of Mr.
Naysmith's other surviving grandchild, Holly's sister. If Holly
Ballard, nee Naysmith, failed to meet these conditions, the
entirety of her fund was to be paid over to the non-profit
organization known as World Wide Charities. As an aside, the
sister failed to meet the same conditions and in consequence lost
her inheritance on her thirtieth birthday three years ago.
"The present beneficiary, Mrs. Holly Ballard, has met all the
conditions as proven by the exhibit of a certificate of marriage
to the man whose DNA identification has a 76 per-cent allele
correspondence to that of her only child, Miss Emily Jerry
Naysmith, also attested by exhibits. Because of the short time
remaining before her thirtieth birthday, it is the judgment of
this firm that nothing will be served by requiring her to wait.
Accordingly the trust is terminated and its contents distributed
to her effective at noon today.
"To minimize conversion fees, I am simply changing the nature of
this account from a secured trust to a simple savings account,
accessible to any degree by you, Mrs. Ballard, and at her request
by you, Mr. Ballard. I most strongly recommend that you secure
the services of an accountant for tax and investment advice. My
firm will be pleased to serve you in that capacity, if you so
desire.
"Now, if you will sign here, Mrs. Ballard, and let my secretary
sign as a witness, we'll have the office notary affix her seal,
and our business is concluded. Congratulations! And may I
suggest that you take those cards immediately to the bank."
* * * *
"Good god, Holly, I'm fucking a millionairess!"
"But not very enthusiastically."
"I keep thinking about what it means."
"Huh! Who would've guessed being rich would screw up your sex
life?"
He lifted himself off her on extended arms. "Of course you knew
about all this when you picked me up from the bus."
"Gerry, I knew about it almost from the day Grandpa died. Momma
told us he left Sissie and me rich."
"But if Moore had fathered Emily, you'd've been shit out of
luck."
"Except I'd still have Emily. Of course, she wouldn't be the
same. Your nose looks great on her."
"Better on her than me, I admit. When you found out I was the
father, I can just imagine the calculations going on in that
pretty brain."
"All it meant was that I still had a shot for the brass ring. A
lot depended on you."
He grinned down at her. "That's why you never married again."
"But I did marry again!"
"Yes, you delicious pussy! That's why you saved yourself
for me."
"Not entirely. I told you: I really enjoyed making Emily with
your help. I had very fond memories of you."
"But that's all you knew about me: a few minutes with a college
boy. What a chance you took, meeting me at the bus! I am truly
impressed with your courage. You had no idea what dirty habits I
might have picked up in prison. Yet you drove us into the woods
meek as a lamb. Didn't you realize I might kill you horribly?
Most people would say I had a damn good reason!"
"I realized it." She sighed and relaxed her legs that had been
wrapped around his. "But you were so tender, Gerry. You even
fixed my sink that had been leaking for a year, *after* you were
sexually satisfied. I knew you'd be angry with me when you got
out, and you were. But I hoped I could be so willing, so open
and submissive to you, that you wouldn't need to hurt me. And I
was. At least you didn't. You're a fine man, Gerry, despite all
the harm I've done you."
He saw that her eyes had filled with tears.
"'Open and submissive,'" he repeated. "Have you ever said 'No'
to me at all?"
"If you mean, have I refused something you asked for, no, I have
not. I can't remember you asking anything unreasonable yet."
He chuckled with pleasure. "I think we'll get along, Holly."
"Good. There is one thing you could do for me, though."
"What's that?"
"Remember where your cock is."
"What? Oh." His hips moved briefly then stopped again. "I want
to tell you something first."
"Couldn't it wait?"
"I guess it could, but you know me. I've figured something out.
Holly, I love you, too."
"You *do*?"
"Yes, I really do. And I want one favor from you. I want you to
let me buy you an engagement ring."
"Well, of course!"
"No, I mean, with *my* money. I want to keep making sex toys
until I've paid off your ring. I'm supposed to get some money
next month that I earned in prison. I should be able to afford a
pretty nice ring. Then I'll quit and we'll try to find out how
rich people are supposed to live. But I've got to do this for
you myself."
"Oh, Gerry!"
She levered herself up beneath him. When he saw her intention,
he flopped over on his back and let her crawl atop him, one hand
guiding his reentry. She flung tears from her eyes and faced him
with a bright smile.
"In that case," she demanded, "let me do what millionaires are
supposed to do. Let me fuck the poor man for a while."
END
Copyright (C) July, 2000, Kellis
kellis@dhp.com
Stories gratis at http://www.dhp.com/files/Authors/kellis/www
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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