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Chapter 100.
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<1st attachment, "SecBest100.txt" begin>
Author: Thinking Horndog
Title: Second Best
Part: 100
Universe: Second Best
Summary: A full-length novel that follows several young couples and their
families through the period immediately preceding their Senior Prom.
Keywords: MF rom
Keywords for full story: F-solo, Ff-inc, M+F Ffm MF mf oral anal bd D/s Mg-
inc Fm-inc mm mmf rom MF-reluc
Chapter 100
Various sideshows
Jennifer Hardesty plopped into a chair in her living room, feeling the
tide of her depression flow about her. Terry and Jackie had just left - and
with them, Jennifer suspected, they had taken a chapter in all of their
lives. Things were going to get very lonely, and soon.
'Well,' she sighed to herself, 'I've got my little buzzing friend.
Maybe after a couple of weeks with him, I'll have settled down enough..."
She shook off the thought, unfinished. There was absolutely no chance that
she would work up the guts to face Mike McCormick again - at least, not in
time for it to mean anything. What WAS she going to do? Doing without men
was out, she knew - but dating was SUCH a roll of the dice, as opposed to
Mike, who had been SO perfect...
Her thoughts were interrupted by the doorbell. 'Who could THAT be?'
she wondered as she crossed the room, 'Jackie would have just come on back
in... One of her friends?'
But the door, when it opened, framed Mike McCormick, leaning on his
crutches. "You wouldn't answer my calls, so..."
"Mike!" Jennifer's tone was an odd mix of horror and joy. Her eyes
dropped to the floor as the joy faded, leaving embarrassment. "You
shouldn't have come."
"I disagree," Mike asserted, "We need to talk."
"Talk won't help!" Jennifer all but wailed, "Nothing can fix what I
did! You need to go home, now, and forget about me."
Jennifer made to close the door, but a crutch planted itself in the
opening. "You'll at least have to let me call a cab. Bobby dropped me off;
I don't have a ride!" Mike paused a moment, "Of course, YOU could drive
me..."
Jennifer knew instinctively that if she offered, he'd never have to go
home. Her resistance was a fragile thing, and it was already showing
cracks. Wordlessly, she backed up and waved him toward the phone, turning
to close the door, but when she turned back, he wasn't using it. Instead,
he stood facing her, waiting.
"So, tell me about this horrible thing you did," Mike prodded,
"Somehow, I failed to detect it. I noticed a breach of good manners on the
part of several of my relatives, and my father's significant other, but
aside from rushing off and rudely failing to return my phone calls, I didn't
notice anything YOU did!"
Jennifer wrung her hands, crying out, "Oh, come on, Mike! Your whole
family caught me acting like a total slut! How can I ever live THAT down?"
Mike raised a finger in objection, "They caught you sexually aroused,
which had become the point of the exercise. The transgression was theirs,
not yours. Besides, how long had it been since you'd been aroused like
that?"
Jennifer resumed examining the floor. "A long time," she murmured
tonelessly, "A very long time."
"See?" Mike returned, "You were totally vulnerable. No one can hold
that against you!"
"Look," Jennifer pled, "You just shouldn't get mixed up with me! I'm
a nutcase! I'm all screwed up from avoiding men, but that's not everything!
I'm what - six, seven, eight years older than you? That's probably not a
good thing... Why don't you just call a cab, go home and forget about me!"
Mike put his crutches down against the couch, and challenged, "Okay,
Missy, come over here and give me you hands, look me in the eye and repeat
all of that bullshit. If you convince me, I'll go home."
Shamed by his lack of mobility, Jennifer gathered her courage and
stepped forward to do what she felt was right. Looking into his eyes, she
began an attempt to repeat her litany, "I'm a nutcase. I-I've been avoiding
men for years! I-I really don't know how to act around a man..."
Jennifer lost track, her attention sucked into Mike's gaze. Mike
released her hands, and began sliding his up her forearms. Against this
background, Jennifer made a desperate attempt to resume her litany, "I, uh,
I've totally ignored my feelings for a long time, and it's messed me up!"
As Mike's big hands slid along her upper arms and across her shoulders and
began sliding down her back, Jennifer began to drift into unknown territory.
"I'm, I'm not... sexually...active..." she stammered.
Mike's eyes, which had somehow gotten a LOT closer, crinkled in mirth
as he announced, "Yet."
Stung, Jennifer gathered her wits to continue, but, oh! Those hands!
They were sliding up and down her spine, and... "Uh, and I'm older. Yes,
that's it! I'm older!" she asserted weakly.
Mike, suddenly VERY close, sighed and looked down into her wide eyes,
murmuring, "And you might as well still be fifteen - you're SUCH an
innocent!" The arms closed gently, and suddenly she was pressed against his
chest. "Now for the rebuttal!"
"But I'm not finished!" she objected, but it was without force.
"You've finished," Mike responded gently but obdurately, "And you've
lost. If you had managed to keep a hold of my hands - or, better, not risen
to the challenge in the first place, you might have gotten somewhere, but
now, it's my turn, so: Yes, you've been managing on your own, but it's
clear that you've not been enjoying it. You desperately need someone to
lean on and recent events have made you even more fragile. As for learning
about men, you're gonna have to start anyway, because you ARE going to be
sexually active - you've discovered that you have no choice! Your age makes
no difference at this point; we're out of school, and you're only a few
years beyond me, not a generation. Besides, you're a babe in arms for
experience, and you need the protection of a man you can trust." At this
point, Mike grinned tightly as he gazed into her eyes. "And if there is a
man in the world that you trust, it's me!" he continued, "Besides, it's too
late - you can't stop me!"
"Stop you?" Jennifer repeated vacantly.
"Yes, stop me - from doing this!" And Mike lowered his lips to hers.
Jennifer's eyes popped, and here arms waved ineffectually for about a
second, but then resistance collapsed. The eyes drifted shut, and her hands
began sliding hungrily along his muscular back. The kiss lasted a good 45
seconds, with Jennifer contributing more and more actively to the effort.
As Mike lifted his smiling face away, Jennifer caught her breath.
"You bastard!" she exclaimed without heat, "I thought you were a gentleman!"
"I try," Mike retorted diffidently, "But sometimes situations occur in
which you have to bring all of your weapons to bear." He lowered his lips
to hers again, then retreated enough to inquire, "So, are you done
selflessly trying to improve my life by putting me on the street?"
"I'm just trying to...Uuuuhhhhh!... save you... Oooooohhhh!... pain
and aggravation... Mmmmmmmmm!" Jennifer could barely get this out around
her writhing reaction to Mike's lips torturing her neck.
"Pain and aggravation build character," Mike murmured distantly while
picking his next target, "You wanna ruin my character?"
"Uuummm. No - I mean yes - I - I can't THINK while you're doing
that!" Jennifer wailed, realizing she'd been outmaneuvered.
Mike lifted his lips from her neck, winked, and advised, "Maybe you
shouldn't think so much..." Jennifer closed her eyes and surrendered.
The next forty minutes were kaleidoscopic for Jennifer. When it
became apparent that Mike's leg was bothering him, they settled on the couch
- but discovered that sitting upright made for an unsatisfactory clinch.
Eventually, they settled on a position wherein Mike was stretched out
supine, while Jennifer writhed atop him. Mike pooh-poohed Jennifer's
concerns that she might hurt him with, "But, Missy, I LIKE feeling you
wriggle! It lets me know I'm accomplishing something!"
Eight o'clock found Jennifer collapsed bonelessly atop Mike on the
couch, loose-limbed and comfortable - totally relaxed except for a delicious
tension that she sensed growing in her lower belly. "Mike?" she murmured,
"I think we need to back off for a bit, before I make an ass of myself
again." She began to crawl off him. "Do you want a drink? Have you eaten?"
"I bolted something before we left," Mike replied, "but kissing's
thirsty work. A soda would be nice." He caught Jennifer's wrist as she
began to move, pinning her in place. "As to the other thing, is there
someone else in the house?" At Jennifer's blank shake of the head, he
continued, "Jackie's out - for the night. If you happen upon an urge to
make noise, there'll be no one to hear it but me - and I'll take it as a
compliment!"
"Well, okay," Jennifer begrudged, and, released, left the room. As he
watched her go, Mike murmured under his breath, "And if I have anything to
do with it, you're gonna make lots of loud happy noises!"
Released for the evening from parental authority, Marcus and Padma
were playing a loud, happy game they hadn't engaged in for several years.
It all started when Marcus began idly fingering a hole in Padma's pants as
she stood working near the chair where he sat idling down and keeping her
company in the kitchen. "Don't I dress you well?" he asked, triggering the
game.
Padma froze and her eyes popped. It had been a looong time... "Um,
yes..."
"Then why you wearin' raggedy things?" Marcus asked, worming his
fingers into the hole, widening it until it gaped in the process. "If
you're gonna wear raggedy things..." he began reasonably, then shifted to a
roar, "I'd just as soon you wore nuthin' at all!"
Padma took off like a shot, leaving a chunk of her trousers behind
her. Marcus gave her a couple of seconds, then took off, full bore, behind
her. He caught her in the living room, pinned her over a chair, and
proceeded to reduce her blouse to shreds, after which he 'accidentally'
allowed her to escape by shrugging out of the tatters, to run giggling from
the room. The pattern repeated itself in the master bedroom, the laundry,
the garage... Padma even essayed a mostly naked sprint across the back yard,
a loudly roaring Marcus drawing attention to her as she disappeared through
the side door to the garage. Along the way, this and that got broken,
knocked over, or otherwise upset, but it was all part of the game, and no
one paid much attention.
Finally, a naked Padma, chest heaving, stood pinned in a corner of the
living room, while Marcus, who has shed his shirt early, worked at
extracting himself from his jeans. There was a certain amount of strategy
to the game; Marcus would take her wherever he caught her after the last
item of clothing was removed. Arguably, Padma had lost this phase, as it
was obvious that Marcus intended to bend her over the back of the recliner
she was hiding behind and take her from behind. But if she could escape...
She darted from behind the chair while Marcus was apparently entangled in
removing one leg from his jeans, only to discover that he had tricked her.
The apparent problem resolved itself as soon as she rounded the chair, huge
hands pinned her upper arms, and she found herself staring at the chair seat
having been folded over its arm. Marcus let go of Padma's arms, maintaining
the pin by the simple expedient of placing a large hand in the small of her
back and pressing down while he extracted his other leg from his jeans.
"Let the fuckin' begin!" Marcus intoned, and immediately, Padma ceased
all effort at resistance, shifting her efforts to make the position as
comfortable as possible. Position was dictated by the game - Padma was
stuck there, draped over the recliner arm. But she could work on comfort...
Marcus snatched a pillow off the couch, and a decorative drape, which Padma
worked between herself and the leather of the chair arm, preventing what
could be a sticky situation in the heat of the sweaty effort that was
undoubtedly to come.
As Marcus moved up to her, Padma turned her head and looked into his
eyes. "Make me wet?" she pled.
Marcus blinked in surprise. Padma didn't usually initiate such
things! Then he grinned. "You just want your clit licked!" he accused.
"Is that so bad, husband?" Padma asked archly.
"Naw," Marcus chuckled, "Nuthin' gits me goin' like a noseful of wet
pussy!" He dropped to his knees, and proceeded to delve between Padma's
spread thighs with his tongue. True to his nature, he went right to the
heart of the matter, attacking her clitoral hood with powerful sweeps of his
stiffened tongue. Padma, already excited from the game, was soon clutching
at the chair arm, groaning loudly. "Now, Husband, now!" she wailed.
Marcus pulled himself erect and once again and moved to position his
cock at Padma's now drooling opening. Along the way, her winking rectum
drew his attention as it had on many previous occasions. In fact, it was a
mild fixation with Marcus, but one he had never been able to bring himself
to mention to Padma. He HAD given himself away on occasion, and if she was
paying any attention... On this occasion, when he brought his cock into
contact, he bumped the little brown rosette with it for a moment, pretending
that he was only accidentally missing the mark - but then he thought better
of the whole thing. After all it wouldn't do - and besides, there was no
lube... Marcus lowered his dark shaft into position and sank it into his
grateful wife's buttery depths.
And she WAS grateful! The game, and Marcus' attentions had raised
Padma's desire to white heat. She welcomed the familiar filling sensation
of Marcus' length sinking into her welcoming channel with a loud groan.
"Ahhh! Fill me, Husband! More! Now!"
Marcus pulled out the stops, spurred by his wife's unaccustomed
volubility. Truth be told, the thrill of the chase, followed by several
minute's worth of having his nose and tongue bathed in his wife's pungent
secretions had Marcus ready to explode before he even got started. But he
mastered himself, and began delivering long, slow strokes, deep into Padma's
welcoming vagina. Padma, for her part, braced her hands on the opposite
chair arm and pushed back, impaling herself on his long shaft, again and
again, grunting and breathing hoarsely through her nose.
After a couple of minutes, Padma began to feel the precursors of her
orgasm building in her lower belly and she stepped up the pace. Marcus took
the hint and started driving hard, looking for his own orgasm, just out of
reach. Padma's legs began to quiver, and she lost her balance. Marcus
merely picked her up by the hips and drove on. Padma crossed her ankles
behind his knees and hung there, bracing on her arms, as the quakes began.
Marcus, feeling the pulsations in Padma's vagina, began to lose his
carefully maintained control. With a roar, he began a series of powerful
strokes that bashed his balls against Padma's already over-sensitized
clitoris, causing her to clutch him to her with her legs as she collapsed
into the chair. Marcus managed to lunge up one last time, then collapsed
atop her driving his squirting cock all the way to Padma's cervix.
After a bit, Marcus rose and rotated them into the chair, causing it
to open and recline so that they lay in it, spooned. He kissed Padma on the
neck and shoulders for a bit while she recovered, then began to settle into
a post-coital drowse. Padma lay savoring the feel of Marcus' slowly
shrinking cock - but the day's conversations with the other women returned
to her. Already, Merry's assertions about volubility had proven themselves
to be true - and there was something else... "Husband, are there other
things you would like to do with me? Things that we haven't spoken about?"
"Mmmm?" Marcus snapped awake. Was he in trouble? "What do you mean?"
"You know I went along to the beauty parlor with Dolores, today - and
spent a long time with the other mothers. It was... girl talk." Padma
amplified. "One of the girls said that men sometimes want to try things -
sex - that they can't really talk about with their wives because they're
afraid that they will - what is the word? - condemn them for it. I think
you have such ideas."
"Like what?" Marcus tried, but he wasn't too convincing.
"Like maybe what I felt at my bum for a moment before we got going,"
Padma chided.
"I just missed!" Marcus insisted, but he was terrorized. Jeezus!
What was she going to think?
"Husband," Padma sighed, "You had the whole thing spread before you.
A blind man couldn't miss! You wanted in there!" Before he could work up a
good bluster, she continued. "If you want it, perhaps we should give it a
try." She turned and looked for the first time into his startled eyes.
"But remember, I have needs, too. I will wait for my time. In the
meantime, if you have ideas, let's speak of them. Do not think that I will
condemn you. I want to know - maybe we're missing something! Okay?"
"Okay," Marcus was still cautious. "If you're sure..."
"Am I right? Do you want to feel my bum on your cock?" She smiled
lazily, "Never mind - your cock answered for you!" She sought his lips for
a kiss. "Let's go to bed; we can make plans for that later. I will need to
prepare..."
"Damn! You're one helluva woman!" Marcus rose, gathered her up, and
made for the bedroom, floating a bit.
Paul Michaels was having a distinct case of nerves. Ellen had been
giving him odd glances ever since she returned from her outing with the
girls that morning, and Paul frankly couldn't see how it could bode well for
him. Paul's recent posture of icy indifference was based not on any real
expectation that he could successfully replace Ellen in the near term, but
rather upon a fine mix of anger and desperation firmly grounded in
frustration. Basically, at this point, sleeping ALONE was an improvement
over sleeping with a woman who was unwilling to provide him with any relief
- the current situation was like being chained starving outside a grocery
store. If he was single, eventually maybe some old fat woman would take
pity on him...
Paul's frustration had led to the occasional visit to strip bars,
where he learned what men know and women don't - you DON'T get sexual
satisfaction at a strip bar! What you DO get - expensively - is a bit of
physical intimacy (meaning MAYBE a hug or a kiss from a half-naked woman
while she sucks down expensive fake drinks with you at a table - most places
don't allow a man to initiate ANYTHING during a dance situation), talk, and
visual evidence that there ARE women in the world who are willing to at
least show you their bodies. The female-inspired legend that strip bars are
a haven for prostitution is utter bullshit; exotic dancers make plenty of
money just showing it off - why would they bother with anything risky like
prostitution? Basically, strip bars were a great place to leave depressed,
as well as frustrated.
More disturbing was the descent into solitary gratification while
watching anonymous couples (or more) participating in acts that he knew that
HE was never going to experience in peep booths at the local sex shop.
Aside from the embarrassment (everybody KNEW what you were doing in there)
there was the occasional brush with trolling homosexuals. The thought of
falling into one of THOSE gently baited traps was what had pushed Paul over
the edge; he'd happened upon a guy who, from the wedding ring on his finger,
was obviously in the same boat he was, being orally serviced by one on his
knees in a booth, and the surge of lust and temptation it had generated had
scared him to death! He'd stood there, transfixed, watching the pair until
the act was finished, the standing man convulsing as his cock pulsed in the
willing male mouth. When the anonymous-looking male, still on his knees,
hawked and spat up a huge gob of semen, then turned and beckoned to Paul, it
was all he could do to wobble out on shaky legs. In the aftermath, Paul had
tested his reactions by watching some homosexually-oriented films, and
decided that he had no interest in homosexuals per se - but the acts that
they participated in, and their obvious willingness to do so in an
environment where female companionship was hard to find, were a temptation.
So he had steeled himself, and made his presentation to Ellen, and if
his desirability to other women was a bit overstated, he consoled himself
with the fact that he had NOT been actively looking. Maybe if he did,
lightning might strike... The same objectivity that made him so good at his
job allowed him to set aside his emotions and provide those properly distant
responses that caused Ellen such concern; he prepared to bring those tools
to bear again as Ellen turned her attention to him.
Terry had pushed off for the Hardesty's and thence the Prom a good
hour before, and Ellen had been aimlessly wandering the house, dusting this
and cleaning that - filling time while she worked up the nerve to make her
presentation. To Paul, she might as well have been carrying a sign - she
wasn't fooling anyone. In fact, she was making things worse; by now Paul
was incredibly jumpy, waiting for the other shoe to fall.
Finally, she nerved herself and cornered him in the den, where he had
retreated to gather his wits while pretending to watch TV. "Uh, Paul?" she
began, diffidently.
"Yes?" Paul shut off the television, a dead giveaway that he knew she
wasn't going to ask him anything trivial.
"You know I, uh, spent the morning with some of the other mothers in
the kid's little group," she continued, girding herself, "and I, uh, asked
for a little advice..."
'Oh, shit!' flashed through Paul's mind, 'Tim's going to be sending
Christmas cards to his parents at two different addresses!' Nothing good
could come of such a conversation between a group of women...
Ellen ducked her head, and continued, diffidently, looking up at her
husband, "I got a lot - the basic consensus seemed to be that I am
incredibly naïve, some kind of cross between a fool and an idiot."
Pauls' expectations for the next sentence were "They say you're an
incredible asshole, and I should move out!" But what he got was, "They gave
me one helluva wake-up call! I think there was some surprise that you
hadn't left me long since, I'm such a fuckup!"
"What? Say that again?" Paul was dumbfounded.
"According to the girls, I know NOTHING AT ALL about sex; I've been
doing EVERYTHING wrong, and refusing to let you do a bunch of things that
would make things a lot better for both of us! At this point, all I can say
is that I didn't know any better..." Ellen's courage - and her voice petered
out, leaving her looking up at Paul, with a pleading expression on her face.
Paul was totally poker-faced while he absorbed the implications of
this amazing revelation. He was having serious problems believing his ears!
Undoubtedly, Ellen had presented her case, no doubt looking for support and
sympathy, as well as advice - and her fellow females had knocked her down,
several pegs! Best to be cautious... Maybe it's a trap... "I see. Did
they offer anything concrete in the way of recommendations?"
"Yeah," Ellen replied, on the edge of an anxiety attack, "I don't know
if I can even remember them all, let alone implement any!"
Nearly two decades' experience made it easy for Paul to recognize the
signs of impending breakdown, so he stepped forward, and began rubbing
Ellen's back to soothe her. "Do you have any idea what you want to do?" he
asked, gently. If she crashed now, he didn't know whether he could hold the
icy façade, or not.
Ellen worked at her composure, noticeably. "I-I'm gonna reel off a
few things - it's not really structured - and then maybe we can talk about
it?"
"Some kind of negotiation?" Paul queried.
"N-no, more like you tell me where the holes are. I'm not in much of
a bargaining position!" Ellen declared.
Paul just nodded, not trusting himself to open his mouth. This was
going a LOT better that he'd ever imagined!
Ellen was shaking like a leaf. "Can we sit down?" she quavered. Paul
nodded, and led her gently to the couch, holding her hand. Once seated, he
maintained the grip, and Ellen seemed to grow sustenance from it. She drew
a shaky breath, and began, "Okay, it's been suggested that I forfeit all
right to deny you sex, under any circumstances."
Paul raised his eyebrows. "That's a pretty broad mandate," he
observed. "What are you planning to water it down with?"
"Well, some of the girls thought that we ought to make sure we can
handle the basics before we jump to anything advanced. But they all kind of
agreed that for whatever we might call 'normal' sex, you should probably get
whatever you want whenever you ask."
"What if you don't feel like it?" Paul asked. "What's your 'out'
here?"
Ellen's expression resembled that of a deer framed in the headlights.
"There isn't one." She managed a smile, "How did Me - Marilyn put it?
Something like: 'If he asks you, the most resistance you should put up is to
ask him for twenty minutes for the Excedrin to kick in. And that should be
followed in a little over nineteen minutes by the splat of your panties
hitting the floor!'"
Paul couldn't restrain himself; a chuckle broke out. "This Marilyn
has an interesting way of phrasing things. Who is she?"
"Marilyn Nellis - Rick's mother," Ellen replied, grinning. "That
comment was a hit with the other girls, too. I knew you'd appreciate it."
"So," Paul mused, "The rule for normal sex is any time, any place, any
way - is that it? What's normal?"
Ellen raised her hand, tentatively. "Can we agree on not being too
public, initially? I've got a lot to work on... I'd like to be sorta
comfortable with places like beds... As to normal - we'll need to agree on
that. But the girls said I'm not competent to even talk about that yet, so
we might want to give it some time and try a few things before we lock it
down."
Paul shook his head. "I have to admit, I'm amazed at your friends!"
Ellen grinned ruefully. "Well, you didn't have any friends at the
start, but the more questions they asked me, and the more stupid answers
they got, the more they came to the conclusion that I didn't have a leg to
stand on! I learned today that I know almost nothing about sex, and
everything I THOUGHT I knew was wrong. The sensible thing seemed to be to
let you run things."
"How do we set limits? What do you want banned?" Paul was still
probing - this made no sense!
"The girls recommended that I not try to set any, at the outset -
Merry said it was a bad thing in general, and Helen agreed with her." Ellen
responded. "Besides, she said I basically didn't know enough to be
intelligent about it.'
"Merry? Who's Merry?"
"Oh, uh, Marilyn."
"What's HER recommendation for rules?" Paul demanded.
"Uh, 'Don't knock it 'til you've tried it - twice.'" Ellen related,
timidly.
"She seems pretty opinionated, even if I like her opinions!" Paul
exclaimed. "Why are you listening to her so hard?"
"Well," Ellen sighed, "because she was doing to HER husband what I've
been doing to you - but the shoe's on the other foot now, so she knows where
we're both coming from. Besides, all of the other girls agree,
fundamentally. They were a bit more cautious about it, but it's where they
ended up." Ellen grinned. "Merry's a wonder! She could quote my mistakes,
chapter and verse, before I admitted to them! She found a couple of big
problems just by matching my responses with mistakes she's made."
"So, she lives all of this advice she's giving you?" Paul asked doubt
evident in his tone.
Ellen's voice went totally toneless. "Actually, she's gone a good bit
beyond..." At Paul's hard stare, she continued, "Marilyn's given over all
authority in her home - she's Robert's sex slave."
"Uh huh." Paul was dubious.
"Helen says she's seen it... Robert doesn't let Merry - that's
Marilyn's slave name - wear clothes at home, just a collar. He gets what he
wants when he wants, how and where he wants it!" Ellen hung her head. "I
was hoping to stop somewhere short of there... Merry's got to be some kind
of masochist - she LIKES it!"
Paul shook his head. "We'll hold the slave girl thing, for now -
although it IS intriguing... So, we agree on 'normal' after we've tried a
few things. Who dictates what we try?"
"You," Ellen affirmed. "I've got no idea what's up. I only ask that
you take it easy - one thing at a time, or something."
"Sounds fair. You need a veto?" Paul queried.
"Wouldn't be smart," Ellen husked, gathering her courage. "Only after
we've done something once - maybe twice. How about this? I let you know if
I have reservations, after the first time. If I still have them after
twice, we really need to talk - set conditions and rules, figure out how
important it is to each of us. I really don't know what to do after that -
binding arbitration?"
"Okay, so, bad once gets a warning, twice requires serious review.
What happens if I want it bad and you just can't deal with it?" Paul asked
gently.
"I honestly don't know," Ellen quavered. "I hope to God it doesn't
happen! Maybe we ask someone else..."
"Okay. Let's table it. We'll work it out when - and if - it becomes
necessary," Paul soothed. "Are you REALLY willing to do all this? For how
long?"
"I-I think so," Ellen affirmed. "I want to try. Maybe we can agree
to adjust things by mutual agreement as we go along?"
"Fine," Paul nodded. "I accept this as our working agreement. I'll
be testing it - if it doesn't hold..."
"I understand," Ellen agreed, "I only ask that we take it easy and not
try anything too wild right off. Um, maybe I ask for one pass on a new
idea? We go at it next time, after I maybe learn a bit about it, or
whatever?"
"Hmmmm," Paul was watchful for erosion to his new position. "One new
thing at a time, one pass on something new... twenty four hours to get your
shit together?"
"Uh huh!" Ellen locked eyes with her husband, obviously eager to
please. "I'll try not to use it too often, especially if we're taking it
easy. Promise!"
"Fine." Paul allowed. "How do you want to seal the bargain?"
"Um, a kiss?" Ellen returned. "More later?"
"Okay." Paul offered his lips, and Ellen flowed into him, giving
without stint. Paul frankly couldn't believe the results of this horse
trading - it was about 300% of what he'd expected! But he didn't let it
show - that would give away the game... Time would tell if Ellen kept her
promises - and what, if anything, he would do about it.
<1st attachment end>
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