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From: Thinking Horndog <im_a_thinker@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Strange Relationships 30/61 {Thinking Horndog} (MMF oral interr)
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Date: Fri, 07 Apr 2006 03:10:06 -0400
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Chapter 30...

Thinking Horndog
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Thinkers_tales/www/

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<1st attachment, "Strange_Rel_30.txt" begin>

Author: Thinking Horndog
Title: Strange Relationships
Part: 30
Universe: Second Best
Summary: A full-length novel that follows several young couples from Second
Best and their families.
Keywords: MMF oral interr

Keywords for full story:  rom, mf, MF, mmf, MFF, M+F, mm, F-solo, ir, D/s,
bdsm, mdom, spank, oral, anal, 1st, reluc, nc, voy

Strange Relationships

Copyright (C) Thinking Horndog, 2006 im_a_thinker@yahoo.com

Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyrighted with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. Reproduction for profit
is forbidden.  Any distribution must include this note and the author's
email address. Don't be caught attempting to make a buck off me!

Warnings and disclaimers:

This is adult entertainment!  Be warned!  If you're not into graphic
depictions of sex, this is the wrong story for you!  If you're too young to
be legally reading this, move along!

This is a work of fiction.  It is not intended to reflect any particular
person or persons, and the incidents portrayed exist in their current form
solely in the writer's imagination.  You get the idea.


Chapter 30
Let's Do Lunch...

	At school, Wednesday started quietly.  The composite group had
shaken out; everyone knew where everyone else was coming from and had global
acceptance -- including Teddy.  Darla Jean's mother picked her up at ten for
her gynecology appointment.  At gym class, Toby chided Randall, "So, how's
Peggy?"

	"She's surprising -- but we agreed that I'm not her type," Randall
replied, unaffected.  "Maybe you ought to stop talking trash and find out
yourself?"

	"Huh!  Like I can't do any better?" Toby responded scathingly.

	"Jimmy!  You keeping Toby's black book?"

	"Yeah!" Jimmy grinned, from the mats.  He'd seen this one before...

	"Any pages in it?" Randall pressed.

	"Nope..."

	Everybody laughed and Toby went red.  Randall turned to him and
said, "YOU'RE the one who said it was better than some, and that missed
pussy is irreplaceable.  Of course, you'd have to be nice to her..."  He
eyed Toby sidelong.

	"Yeah, right.  Heads up!"  A runaway basketball flew past.


	Tenisha cornered Mary and Nora at lunch, "All right -- you gonna
tell me?"

	"Here?"  Mary glanced around.

	"On the patio, then?"

	"Okay."  The girls shifted outside, plopping at a picnic table that
had seen better days.  Tenisha flashed 'the look' and Mary got started,
"Okay.  Actually, YOU had something to do with it, too..."

	"Me?"

	"All will become clear...  Nora and I arrived at the Prom with
Teddy, which was convenient for everyone, since Teddy was scared I'd put a
leash on him.  But Teddy discovered a glory hole in the Men's Room, and
staked it out.  Pretty soon, along comes Stick, mildly lit, and apparently
he finds the other side.  So Teddy blew him, and then got out of there -- I
guess Stick made some comment about dressing him in a skirt and keeping him
for a girlfriend, even though they still hadn't really seen each other; you
know how Stick can talk..."

	"Ooookay..."  Tenisha gestured for Mary to keep it coming.

	"Teddy came back to me, for protective coloration, but was hinting
that we ought to leave when Stick ambled out of the Men's Room and starts
quizzing me about recent exits.  When I pointed out that Stick had cum on
his shoe, both of them freaked, and I put two and two together and got six.
About that time, you monopolized Draper, taking Stick's ride away from him,
and Nora collected Nate -- which left me alone with Teddy.  So I blackmailed
Teddy into giving Stick a ride, threatening to out him to Stick and
reminding him that he REALLY didn't want to be alone with me..."

	Mary grinned ferally, and continued, "Once I got them home to my man
trap, Teddy started sprouting serious chicken feathers, so I stuck a beer in
his hand and he scooted off to the bathroom."

	"Man trap?"

	"I have a whole mother-in-law apartment over the garage for my
bedroom.  Big, private, and my folks USED to look the other way if I dragged
some poor boy up there."

	"She keeps beer and porn flicks," Nora interjected, "just the
thing..."

	"Wow!"  Tenisha was impressed.

	"Well, I don't get much male attention that I don't work for
directly..." Mary waved disparagingly at herself.  "Anyway, I told Stick
that I knew too much, but if he really wanted to know who the masked blowjob
artist was, I could tell him -- for a price.  Stick agreed, so I outed Teddy
-- but I made it clear that if Stick abused him, I'd hang HIM out to dry,
too!  Then I threw a bi-sex flick into the video player and we dragged Teddy
out of the bathroom."

	"So what was the price?"

	"I told 'em they could do whatever came to mind in privacy at my
place -- but they had to have sex with me, too," Mary replied.  "I figured
one of them would eventually roll over, and I'd get a boyfriend out of the
deal; one night stands hadn't netted me anything, so I was hoping that I was
an acquired taste..."

	"How did that go over?" Tenisha asked.

	"Well, Teddy was lit on one beer, and the video player was showing a
bunch of stuff he was interested in doing.  It turned out that neither of
them had actually had pussy, which helped; Stick was all in favor, and Teddy
was interested, even though he'd almost convinced himself he was gay.  THAT
was the REAL issue; the guys AREN'T gay, but they're both horny little
motherfuckers, and they weren't getting pussy, so why not settle for
something else?  That pretty much describes Stick's attitude at the time;
Teddy's was a little more complicated, since -- well, YOU know Teddy -- is a
Mama's boy like that gonna get a break?"

	"So what happened?"

	Mary shrugged.  "Without giving you a blow-by-blow, everybody got a
little piece of everybody else and we had a helluva good time!  After that,
we kind of figured that after a couple more outings, I'd pick one of them --
or vice-versa -- and the odd man -- or woman -- out would go looking
elsewhere.  I've dated both of them solo, and we've all been together a
couple of times since then, but the expected thing hasn't happened.
Instead, we're kind of stable the way we are..."

	"So, Stick fucks Teddy, and Stick fucks you, and Teddy fucks you...
Does Teddy...?"

	"No -- for a couple of reasons.  First Teddy isn't psychologically
set up to be on top, if you know what I mean.  And second, Teddy has a
really interesting cock..."

	"Huh?"

	Mary grinned.  "Well it probably isn't any longer than you'd expect
-- but it's almost all head and it's like, this big around..."  Mary
displayed its considerable girth by pretending to wrap both hands around it.
"No way Stick is gonna hold still for THAT!  I can take it, properly lubed
-- Stick generally lubes me by going first -- and MAYBE one day I'll try it
in the poop chute, but Stick?  No way.  He wouldn't be into it mentally,
anyway."

	"What about head?"

	"What about it?  You know Teddy blows Stick..."  Tenisha just looked
at her, waiting Mary out.  "Look, does it matter?"

	"You're protecting him."

	"You're damned right!  I think I'm in love with the skinny bastard!"
Mary rocked back and sat there, shocked at herself.  "Look, if either of
them could do without the gay sex thing, it's Stick.  He could walk away, no
problem.  But he hasn't, largely because I think he's a little fond of
Teddy.  Okay, yeah, he's done it, but only after I razzed him about how he
wasn't giving Teddy anything and that wasn't a proper relationship.  So I'm
at fault for that..."

	"Okay.  Didn't mean to put you on the spot."

	"Yeah, you did."  Mary eyed Tenisha dubiously.  "But either I can
trust you, or I can't.  I don't know what Draper will say..."

	Tenisha giggled.  "Draper told me last night that he wasn't
surprised at all.  I guess the subject had come up before, and Stick had
told Nate what he wanted to hear, instead of raising Hell 'bout how awful it
was..."

	Nora nodded.  "Nate had an absolute fit!  It took a lot of effort to
get his head turned around..."

	Mary nodded.  "Nate's reaction threw Stick for a loop; he figured
Draper would be just as bad..."  The bell rang.  "Oh, shit!  I have to hit
my locker!"

	"Okay, later!"  Tenisha waved, Nora waved back, and the three of
them headed in what were essentially three different directions, each in a
hurry.


	Across town, at Andrea's Restaurant, another lunch meeting was
getting under way.  Rodday arrived punctually, with two lieutenants, to find
Armand Wilson already seated.  Armand nodded at another table as he rose to
greet Rodday; Rodday dispatched them to it with his eyes, wondering how many
of the adjacent diners were Armand's people.  Frankly, he'd have found the
number scary -- it was two to one inside, with a support team in the parking
lot that had Rodday's people outgunned, there, too.  Flood would have
arranged for more coverage, but Flood was missing...  "Mr. Wilson.  How nice
to meet you."

	"Mr. Pinkham."

	"What can I do for you?"  Rodday attempted to get right to the
point.

	Armand, unperturbed, rolled over it.  "Why don't we order first?
The clams casino is excellent..."  Armand kept the conversation off-topic
effortlessly throughout the ordering process and into the appetizers, before
reining things in, "So how is business?"

	"Good -- picking up, actually..."

	"I suppose the video is bringing you tons of new employees?"
Armand's grin was malicious.

	"Uh, yeah.  A piece of luck, that was, having that fall into my
hands..."  Rodday replied, but 'Oh, SHIT!' was the thought burning in his
brain.

	"Funny that the perpetrator picked Tabitha Adams," Armand observed.
"How do you suppose that happened?"

	'He's toying with me...'  "Yeah.  Odd, that."

	"Tabitha tells me that you had a conversation with her only days
before about her lack of protection..."

	'Aw, FUCK!'  "Indeed.  Well, I was making the rounds, generally --
can't say I actually remember."

	"I blame myself for not being more visible -- but she needed so
little...  I'm REALLY PLEASED that she wasn't killed; when my people catch
the person who ordered this, he or she may even survive..."

	"Well, obviously, this guy was some kind of lone crazy..." Rodday
was visibly sweating.

	"The man enjoys his work, but the video made it clear that he was a
pro, operating under instructions.  No, while it might be fun to drag him
in, the responsibility lies elsewhere.  I was hoping you might tell me where
YOU got the video?  Obviously, whoever gave it to you expected you to profit
from it, so I can understand that you might be reluctant, but..."  Armand's
eyes told Rodday all he needed to know; this was smoke.  Armand KNEW.

	Rodday could take the coward's way out and lie, or he could face the
music -- he decided to do the latter: "I ordered it."

	"Did you investigate her claims at all?  It wouldn't have taken much
in the way of digging to discover a relationship between us..."

	"Would YOU?  I told one of my people to have a look, but nobody
expected anything..."  Rodday shook his head.

	"I'm sure you'll have a talk with that particular employee on your
return to your offices..."

	"Yeah." 'IF he ever shows up...' Rodday added to himself.


	At the club, Scott was grinning from ear to ear as he and Davis laid
out Flood in Rodday's office next to his companions.  They'd wake up in a
couple of hours, but they'd remember this little incident for a LOOOONG
time, thanks to Jason's suggestions involving their delivery.  The fact that
Flood carried keys to the club made things that much easier...


	Back at the restaurant, Armand continued, "You know, you'll catch
more whores with honey than you will wielding a big stick.  If you were
doing for them what you CLAIM to be doing for them, you'd have more
voluntary employees.  As it is, I can't stand behind the idea of your
monopolizing prostitution in this town."

	"Whores aren't as profitable as drugs; there are liabilities."

	"True.  And trash collection isn't as profitable as diamond mining,
either," Armand observed, "but you can still turn a tidy profit.
Prostitution is sales, and you're cutting your own people's profit margins
and incentives by being grabby.  Hookers have overhead, too; they have to
eat, they have to buy wardrobe, they need medical support for their STDs..."
Armand leaned back as the server arrived with his and Rodday's lunches.
"It'd help if you were really protecting them, too.  Volume ought to allow
you to keep the vice squad in pocket money..."

	Rodday shook his head, "The way they're chasing me over drugs?"

	Armand shrugged.  "You decided to carry that product line...  Why
bother with hookers?"

	"Ego, I guess."  Rodday was almost relaxed.

	"Well, your lack of vigilance probably extends to other things.  I
wouldn't expect to remain a free man indefinitely."  Armand leaned forward,
toying with a clam with his fork.  "Still, I have to tell you that I admire
the finesse...  The Tabitha thing was very well executed."

	"Thank you."  Rodday was still smarting from Armand's observations
regarding his operation's efficiency, but he needed to pander to the man's
goodwill, apparently.

	"Drugs are also a problem because they promote the existence of an
extremely violent distribution system.  And, frankly, addicting your whores
adds to the turnover; better if they're clean -- they have longer shelf-life
and are more profitable if they aren't wasted husks," Armand observed.

	"Yeah, well, you get the same thing from gambling and loan
sharking," Rodday replied, "and I need a hold on my girls."

	"Loyalty in your employees would be a big improvement over fear and
chemical dependence," Armand returned blithely.  "As it is, you're diverting
part of your other product line to this support -- and you have to subsidize
it because you've already robbed your staff of the ability to pay full
price.  I understand the company store concept, but the whole thing is
inefficient.  The girls have no incentive to work, doped up and too broke to
make ends meet.  You suffer from absenteeism, employee turnover is
unacceptable, and the occasional untimely death..." Armand shook his head.
"I know a fellow a couple of towns over who manages to handle the 'company
store' angle solely from a rent money perspective.  AND he owns real estate,
AND he owns all of the strip clubs, AND he lures in new staff regularly to
supplement a thoroughly loyal core..."  Armand grinned.  "And he owns the
police department, lock, stock, and barrel, too..."

	"Interesting..."

	"Of course, he eschews the drug trade, because that draws Federal
scrutiny..."  Armand leaned forward.  "You need to clean up your act.  In
the meantime, you will leave Tabitha Adams strictly ALONE -- or I will see
to it that the consequences fall upon YOU directly.  If, at some point in
the future, the situation changes to the point that there is a benefit to
her in being associated with your organization, we can revisit this
conversation -- but I don't see that as a high-probability option."

	Armand leaned back and put down his fork.  "In the meantime, I now
have to subsidize her protection -- which may translate into the creation of
more serious competition for your business, as she can't possibly repay me
on her own.  I haven't decided exactly how to handle that, yet.  Last, but
not least," Armand glared, "the current incident is not over.  I have been
ignored and treated with contempt.  While I now believe it was accidental,
that very fact reveals a dangerous weakness in your organization that I
reserve the right to remind you of at some point in the future."  He glanced
at his watch.  "I believe we're done, here.  Enjoy your meal."  He got up
and stalked out, flanked by a couple of people that apparently appeared out
of the woodwork.

	"Shit." Rodday grunted.  "Now what the fuck..."

	"You okay, Boss?" Junior came over from the table he'd been
pigeonholed into.

	"Yeah, for now," Rodday sighed, "Any word on Flood?"

	"Nope."

	"Boy has serious explaining to do."  Rodday discovered that he had
no appetite.  "Let's go."  He waved for the waiter.  "Check, please."

	"Mr. Wilson has paid," was the reply.

	"Well, at least he's got class."  Rodday led his people out -- and
two more of Armand's people followed at a discreet distance.


	"What the fuck?"  Flood heard the voice and wondered vaguely what it
was talking about.  Slowly he swam up to consciousness -- why did his ass
feel so...  stuffed?

	"Flood, you wanna tell me what the fuck you're doing layin' buck
naked on my floor with a -- what is that? -- CUCUMBER up your ass?" Rodday
asked, dumbfounded.

	Flood looked around groggily.  On either side of him, Jaime and
Stretch were similarly undressed -- and similarly stuffed!  "Ah, Jeezus this
hurts!  Fuck!"

	"Well, get it out..."

	"I... don't think I can!"

	"Well, I ain't doin' it!" Rodday laughed, "You three go to work on
each other!"  There ensued about a minute and a half of strained grunts --
and at least one scream -- before the three victims managed to extract their
vegetable butt plugs.  "Awright, now, where the fuck have you been?"

	"We staked out Tabitha's place, lookin' fer her boy, like you told
us to," Flood replied.  "What the fuck day is this?"

	"Wednesday."

	"Awright, so it was last night, then.  So the kid, Nate, shows up
wit' some white bitch, an' we corner him in the apartment -- but THEN musta
been half-dozen motherfuckers unloaded on us...  I woke up some fuckin'
where, tied to a goddamn chair.  They alternated bustin' me in the chops and
pokin' me with a fuckin' needle..."

	Rodday grew grave.  "Shit!  Well, do YOU know who did this?"

	"No..."

	"Well, I do!  Armand Wilson!  Turns out the Adams bitch DID have a
protector!  Now MY shit is in the wind 'cause YOU didn't check her ass out
properly!  I just had a pretty fuckin' unpleasant lunch with him, listenin'
to him tell me how I SHOULD be runnin' whores!"

	"Wilson?  Fuck..."

	"Yeah, Wilson.  The good news is we didn't ice the bitch -- Wilson
apparently kinda admires the job the guy did -- otherwise, I don't know what
the fuck he woulda done..."  Rodday shook his head.  "He's still rumblin' --
and I DON'T know WHY!  What the FUCK could HE have in common with Tabitha
Adams?"

	"I sure as shit don't fuckin' know..."


	"Busy?"  Matheson stuck his head in the door of Tabitha's hospital
room.

	"I'm fuckin' bored to fuckin' tears!" Tabitha whined.  "Lemme guess
-- you found that crazy muthafuckah!"

	"Uhhh, no.  Sorry!  The guy is a pro -- he's not going to be run
down any too quickly.  What we DID do was confirm that Rodday called him in.
Rodday sent three of his boys around to collect Nate -- but, well, there
were six of us..."  Matheson whipped out a photograph.

	There it was, in living color:  Three of Rodday's boys, buck naked,
with...  "What the fuck did yo' put in they ass?"

	"Cucumbers."

	"Oh, holy fuckin' shit!"  Tabitha cracked up.  "Jeeezus! Ha ha ha
ha...."  She wrapped her arms around her chest, "Aw, shit, that hurts -- but
it's SOOO fuckin' funny!"

	"We laid 'em out like that in Rodday's office about an hour ago --
while Mr. Wilson was busy giving Rodday a good talking to," Matheson
laughed.  "I don't think he's done, either.  If you feel like riding
Rodday's ass with a strap-on, all you probably have to do is ask..."

	"Shit, what a picture!  But that'd just piss Rodday off an' he'd try
ta kill me..."

	"Well..."  Matheson shook his head.  "I'm pretty sure that Mr.
Wilson has convinced Rodday that messing with you is bad for his health."

	"Huh!  I'll believe THAT when I see it!  Some folk too dumb to
live..."  Tabitha shook her head.  "You tell Mr. Wilson that this'll do it.
I gotta live wit' the fuck."

	"Trust me, Mr. Wilson will make his point.  You're gonna remain an
independent contractor.  Oh, by the way, you might have to move -- Nate beat
the shit out of your landlord for giving Rodday's boy access to your
apartment...."

	"Shit!  I done missed THAT, too?  Fuck me..."  She chuckled, then
eyed Matheson sidelong, "Speakin' o' fuckin' -- I wasn't shittin' you; yo'
gotta unlimited account at Tabitha's..."

	Matheson laughed.  "Don't tempt me.  Besides, I'm just one of about
six or eight guys in on this..."

	"Yo' point 'em out, Honey, an' I'll give 'em a dip -- but yo' kinda
cute..."  Tabitha batted her eyes.

	"I'm only human," Matheson chuckled.  "You make offers like that, I
might be tempted to collect..."

	"Y'all do that..."

	"So how are you feeling, really?"

	"Tits still hurt.  Ass is better.  Pussy is, too.  Hospital food is
godawful, but at least I don' hafta cook it.  Fuckin' painkillers are
keepin' me fum missin' the shit too much..."

	"Shit's bad for you."

	"People been tellin' me that for fuckin' evah, an' I'm still
here..." Tabitha grunted.

	"You'd look better and feel better if you'd listen to 'em."

	"Look," she murmured, holding his eyes, "I got what they call an
'addictive personality'.  I like ta feel good ever once in a while.
Generally, I got good sense about it.  But I cain't give it up."

	Matheson merely smiled.  The 'painkillers' had other functions, too;
Tabitha wasn't hurting that badly for a reason.  Well, time would tell...
"Can I get you anything?"

	"You done pretty good, Honey.  I'm fine, fo' now.  Don' hang it out
for Rodday to chop off, now..."

	"I'll save it for you."  Matheson grinned and walked out, leaving
Tabitha chuckling over the picture.


	"Miz Sharon?"

	"Mmmm?"  Sharon roused to the diffident voice.  "Yes?"

	"You wanted to be awakened before now, actually..." Leticia began,
"but Charles called Mr. Wilson and he told me to push things off a bit."

	"Oh."  Damn Armand -- always messing in things...  Sharon was butt
to butt with Felicia in the bed -- and in contact.  Well, it hadn't hurt
anything...  "Felicia!  Get up, Honey, and start me a bath..."

	"Mmmm?"  The redhead rose up, rubbed her nose with the back of her
hand, a move unconsciously childish.  " 'Kay."  She got up and wobbled
toward the bath.

	Sharon glanced up, "Thanks, Leticia.  Anything going on I should
know about?"

	"No, Ma'am.  Things are on track."

	"Fine.  Oh, is this Velma's shopping day?"

	"Ummm.  Might be.  Wednesday?  Yeah."

	"Have her stop by before she leaves, will you?"

	"Certainly, Ma'am." Leticia turned to leave, but wasn't too far gone
to hear the next exchange.

	"Mistress?  Want bubbles?"

	"Something.  I smell like -- well YOU know what I smell like!"  An
answering cackle came from the bath.


	"Robbie?  Could I speak to you for a moment?"  Millicent Graham's
voice drifted in from the room that she styled 'the parlor'.

	"Yes, Mother?"  Rob rolled his eyes and turned into the room.  He
didn't really have time for this; he'd come home over lunch to pick up his
forgotten Civics homework.

	"I received a most distressing telephone call today from Claudette,"
Millicent murmured before glancing back down at her knitting.  "Yes, most
distressing."

	Mother's gift for melodrama was legendary; she styled herself a
southern belle -- and she was deep into it, at this point...  "Really?" Rob
replied.

	"She tells me that you've stopped seeing her and taken up with some
slut..."

	"Oh?" Rob returned blithely.  "That's interesting.  Until last week,
the girl she described to you as a slut was one of her inner circle..."

	"When did this all happen?" Millicent asked.

	"It happened at the Prom, Mother."

	"You all made such a fine-looking couple..."

	"That was the problem, Mother.  It was all looks."

	"Oh?"  Millicent looked up.  "I don't understand.  I figured that
you two would be a couple right through college..."

	"Mother, Claudette wasn't going to stay with me through college.
The only reason Claudette wanted to be around me was because I'm popular.
Here, I'm a big fish in a small pond; in college, though, I won't be the top
dog.  Claudette would have hit the road as soon as she found a higher-class
ticket on the gravy train."

	"Oh, come on, now, Son.  She was all over you!"

	"Only in public, Mother.  In private, she wasn't interested."

	"You're your father's son; surely, you could woo her..."  Mother
eyed him sidelong, her eyes revealing that she KNEW he kept those tools
honed.

	Robbie sighed.  The fact was, Mother resembled Claudette all too
closely.  How Dad had managed to get Mother pregnant with him was a mystery.
Certainly, they hadn't had sex in a decade...  "Nope.  All Claudette wanted
was for us to look like the perfect couple.  She had no interest in a REAL
relationship..."

	"Real?" Millicent taunted.  "Like those other girls you've been
seeing?  That kind of real?"

	Rob sighed.  "In its own way, that stuff wasn't any more
substantive."

	"Hmmph.  Let your father know, will you?" Millicent sighed.  Donald
Graham had a steady flow of women in and out of his bedroom, and it was a
source of continuous embarrassment to her.  On the other hand, they kept her
from having to sully herself...  "Besides, you miss the point, Robbie.  Is
this new girl just another slut?"

	Rob rolled his eyes.  "No, Mother -- she's just unwelcome
competition for Claudette, who I'd already split with, by the way, when we
got together.  I'm sure that once you see her, you'll approve of her."

	"Whom, Dear."  Millicent continued to hold her son's eyes.  "Must I
drag it out of you?  Are you or are you not sleeping with this girl?"

	"Mother!  Please!"

	"You are, then."

	"That doesn't make Claudette right!  Most of the girls I've... been
with... have been willing to provide sex up front to be Rob Graham's
girlfriend -- which, frankly, is more than Claudette ever did.  Her basic
idea was that I benefited just from being seen with her -- like THAT was
huge, or something..."  Rob shook his head, angrily.  "Mary and I moved
relatively slowly to this point, having been together a lot.  I like being
with her, with or without sex.  And if Claudette weren't making noises about
it, the fact that we're dating wouldn't even be public knowledge!"

	"So then you're ashamed of her?" Millicent probed.

	"Not at all!" Rob countered.  "We're just not in it for the
publicity, like a pair of movie stars just before their latest movie gets
released.  Mary is a very popular girl, in her own right -- but we're
focused on US, not other people.  I've seen the results of THAT!"

	"ROBBIE!" Millicent shrieked, stung.  "I won't tolerate such
accusations!  I'm your mother!"

	Rob sneered.  "Then be careful what you say about my girlfriend!  At
least she wants ALL of me, not just my face, or my money!"  He stalked out,
fuming.  Mother probably got pregnant with him just to consolidate her hold
on Dad, now that he thought about it; the realization had been hanging
there, at the edge of his consciousness, forever, but this surfaced it --
and all of the little digs about following in Dad's sexual footsteps made
sense...  Well, he knew what he wanted, now.  If things didn't work out with
Mary, at least he was pointed in the right direction.  But things WERE
working out, for now -- and he was determined that time-wasting showoffs
like Claudette and his mother would not interfere...


	Darla Jean got back to school right after lunch; she could have
stayed home, but making Dwayne fumble basketballs was fun.  Besides, there
was something empowering about having a pack of birth control pills in one's
purse, even if they hadn't really taken effect yet...  In the hallway
outside his sixth period class, Darla Jean decided to see if she could make
Dwayne drop books, too.  Checking to see that her new pink midriff top was
doing its job, she sidled up behind Dwayne, "Hi, Dwayne."

	Almost.  He jumped, visibly, and fumbled a bit.  "Hi, Darla Jean.
What's up?"  His eyes took in the top, and what it exposed.  There was a bra
there, and nothing really huge underneath, but it was more visible than
usual, by a good bit.  And there was that strip of bare flesh below...

	"Oh, nothing.  Just thought I'd say hi..."  She wasn't REALLY very
good at this...  What kind of come-on SHOULD she have used?

	It was good enough, though.  "Say, do you think we could maybe get
together some time?" Dwayne blurted.

	"Oh, I don't know.  You're awful busy, what with basketball and
all..."

	"Maybe after practice?  You've been coming, after all..."

	"We'll see.  I have to check on my homework.  I'll know by then."

	"Okay..."  Wow!  That'd been pretty easy.  Maybe Ted was right --
maybe Darla Jean was just ready...


	"So, Peggy.  Randall?"  Louise Bryant asked the question, but there
were eight other girls in earshot.

	Peggy raised her hands.  "Yes.  And no."

	"No?"

	Peggy shook her head.  "He's... too much.  Here," she pointed to her
temple, "and, weirdly, here..."  She rubbed the crotch of her gym outfit.
"I'm gonna be bowlegged for a week.  It's great, but..."  She shook her
head; stunned chuckles erupted here and there.  Most of the other girls just
couldn't believe it...

	Darla Jean hung back, soaking it in.  It looked like a quiet
conversation with Peggy was in the cards...  It took a few minutes, but she
managed to get Peggy basically alone, "So what happened?"

	"Ummm, the short version is he didn't fit.  I guess maybe I'd have
stretched, but he's also got a lot of stamina...  It was just too much."

	"That's pretty wild," Darla Jean mused.  "So, how would you classify
him, in general?"

	"He's great!  I still want him to tutor me, and I want to be friends
-- but I think we'll leave sex out of it."

	"What did he think of that?  I can't see a boy just..."

	"No, he was okay with it."  Peggy blushed, "I guess I wasn't the
best ride he'd ever had..."  She shook her head.  "If he goes without for a
while, I imagine he might come back for a rematch -- I would if I was him.
Depending on how things are going, I might offer him something -- but long
term, we don't have a future.  In the meantime, maybe I'll get a little word
of mouth advertising from the deal..."  Gazing at Darla Jean, she added,
"He's a seriously undervalued property -- but then you know that, don't
you?"  Darla Jean said nothing, merely shrugging; that's what she was trying
to figure out...


	Basketball practice found her in the bleachers, doing homework.
Dwayne, having been seriously badgered by Coach Ellis for having his head up
his ass, was working hard at not being distracted by her presence -- a
process aided a bit by the fact that he now KNEW she was there for him and
they had more to go on than just staring at one another.  Ted tried to haze
him anyway, "Hey, your girlfriend is in the bleachers!"

	"Good.  Where's yours?"

	"What?"

	"I don't see any chicks there watching YOU!" Dwayne put a point on
the barb.

	"Maybe SHE is..."

	"Nope."

	"Huh!  YOU don't know that!  You'd have had to talk to her!"  'And
you got no guts,' came across without being said.

	"I did.  She's waiting for me to get out of practice, then we're
going somewhere," Dwayne replied, matter-of-factly.

	Ted took a ball in the shoulder, in the midst of saying, "Bullshit!"
The ball bounced into the hands of a defender, and women took the bench as a
subject while they rode out the mistake -- including another harangue from
Coach, this time directed at Ted.

	Darla Jean, for whom the entire episode was a bit too distant to
make out, had her attention drawn elsewhere:  Mary Eikenberry came in,
obviously fuming.  "What's up, Mary?" Darla Jean asked, wondering just how
she'd suddenly become Mary's friend and confidante.

	"That gold-plated BITCH Claudette called Rob's mother, whining about
being dumped -- and she called me a SLUT!"

	"Shhhh!  Stuff echoes in here!"  As it was, a couple of boys were
looking up.

	"Sorry!  She just...  sucks!  I never realized..."

	Darla Jean shrugged.  "She's a classic -- and you were in.  Now you
get to see how the other half lives."

	"Rob says his mother is a carbon copy of Claudette -- or maybe vice-
versa.  And he made some admissions that didn't help my case..."

	"Oh?"

	"It's hard to defend yourself from charges of being a sexpot..."

	"... When you're being one?"  Darla Jean's eyes twinkled, but she
wasn't accusing.

	"Well, it's no secret he's good!  Some of Claudette's popularity
stemmed from the idea that Rob kept her around, which meant SHE had to be,
too -- but it didn't work that way; she wasn't giving him as much attention
in private as she was in public!  Me, I...  well, he rocks my world!  I'm
addicted!  We started out slow, but now that it's happened, I, well, I can't
do without..."

	"Aren't you worried that you'll end up in Bang Nation?" Darla Jean
asked.

	"Well, it could happen -- but Bang Nation shakes out pretty quickly.
I didn't start out waving my tush under his nose, so I think maybe I'm a
little less one-dimensional..."

	"How many dates?"

	"Well, it didn't start out as something you'd call a date.  We'd
meet somewhere and just talk about something -- not planned -- in the caf or
somewhere.  Rob did a lot of bitching about Claudette, and I started out
defending her -- but his viewpoint made me take a step back.  After the
blow-off Prom Night, he wasn't exactly in a mood to be romantic, but he
moved on to other things.  We started spending a lot of time together, but I
don't think we DATED until last Friday or so.  Once I had his full
attention, though, well, I just couldn't defend myself -- and I didn't WANT
to..."

	Darla Jean pretended to evaluate things.  "I still think you
probably get constructive credit for three dates.  AND for being a friend,
first."

	Mary smiled.  "Thanks!"

	"Do you get the feeling that Rob's mother wields any undue
influence?" Darla Jean asked.

	Mary took a moment to decipher this.  "Ummm, no.  Quite the
opposite, in fact, I think.  But we probably won't be going to his house to
neck any time soon..."

	"It'll blow over," Darla Jean offered.  "Ride it out."

	"Well..." Mary sighed.  "Jeep seats suck..."  Both girls giggled.
"And Dwayne?" Mary changed the subject.

	"We have some sort of vague plans for after practice," Darla Jean
replied.

	"A clear sign of inexperience," Mary advised.  "If Dwayne was the
stud he thinks he is, he'd have something specific planned that SOUNDS
innocent, but allowed him a set-up..."  She paused.  "He's just a notch in
your lipstick case, right?"

	Darla Jean nodded.  "Unless he turns up something incredible, I'm
just getting course credit in comparative biology."

	"How long are you gonna play him?"

	"Not long; doesn't seem fair."

	"You'll get an AWFUL rep, guaranteed!" Mary admonished.

	Darla Jean shrugged, "It'll just make next time easier..."

	"Well, maybe..." Mary looked dubious.

	"Believe me, I don't have some of your visible assets; the demand
won't be THAT big," Darla Jean argued.  "Besides, I'll probably end up
hunting in the Brain Trust again at the end of it all, and a certain lack of
chastity will help make me approachable."

	"Geeks?"

	"You'd be surprised.  Ask Amy Kelleher.  Or Mary Nally.  Or even,"
Darla Jean smiled to herself, "Peggy Ellis.  Besides, I have to be able to
carry on a conversation with them OUTSIDE a bed..."

	"Yeah, I can see that," Mary agreed.  "Not for me, but..."

	"It's just another reason for me NOT to take on a jock," Darla Jean
asserted.  "His ego would be all bruised when he discovered that I can out-
think him."

	Mary giggled and settled in to watch Rob.


	The limo picked up Nora after school; Nate drove his rattletrap to
the warehouse district.  He wasn't thrilled at this development, because he
didn't know exactly where things were going, but he had to do a day's work
SOMETIME, and given the way things were with Mama, the sooner the better...
Besides, Nora's Daddy was big on self-reliance, and sucking off him too much
would ruin his good impression; no, unless this job thing was crap, this was
the thing to do.  The architecture of the east side of town was strictly
utilitarian -- there was nothing particularly exciting about the warehouses
and manufacturing buildings.  Nate knew that sometimes drug dealers and
fences scheduled their meets in these nondescript surroundings, since they
tended to be deserted after business hours, but it was still early, and
therefore relatively safe and mundane.  He parked in the parking lot beside
the address he'd been given and went around to the front door to knock.

	Knocking didn't work -- he tried five times.  Ringing the bell
didn't work, either, so after the second time, he circled around back to the
loading dock.  Here, things were happening; trucks were being loaded and
numerous people were moving back and forth.  Nate went up the stairs at the
side of the dock and was immediately accosted by a portly, balding man in a
vest, "Who the fuck are you?"

	"I'm, uh, looking for Mr. DiAngelo..."

	"Okay, so?" The man sported a cigar -- probably why he was standing
on the dock, since he didn't seem to be lugging anything.

	"I'm Nate Adams..."

	"Adams..."  The man frowned pensively, then turned and yelled
inside, "Stella!  Who the fuck was at the door?"

	"That was me..."

	The man grunted and bellowed again, "STELLA!"

	"What?"  A heavyset Italian-looking woman stuck her head around the
corner.  "I hadda pee!  There ain't nobody there, now!"

	"Well, fuckin' tell somebody next time, so I can cover the fuckin'
door!" The man turned, fuming, "Fuckin' women and their weak goddam
bladders..."   Changing focus, he rounded on Nate.  "I'm DiAngelo.  Hmmph.
And you're this Nate Adams."  He ran his eyes up and down Nate's narrow
frame.  "Kinda stringy, ain't ya?"

	"I do okay," Nate replied, mildly miffed.

	"Yeah, well, we'll see, I guess," DiAngelo replied.  "Word came down
about six levels that I'm to try you out.  Who the fuck did YOU kill?"

	"Huh?  I, uh..."

	"You got friends in high places?"

	"Well, sorta, I guess.  Let's pretend I don't..."

	"If I did that, two of the boys woulda thrown you off the dock by
now!" DiAngelo returned jovially.  "Okay, tonight's a one-off.  I need half
a shift outta you Tuesday and Thursday, and a full shift either Saturday or
Sunday during the day -- IF you show me something!  Pays twelve-fifty an
hour, and I hear you're in the system somewhere already.  What did you fuck
up before coming here?"

	"Nothing," Nate replied.  "I guess this is a case of justifying
being on the payroll..."

	THAT got him a look.  "Awright."  The little shit didn't want to
tell him, and orders were orders, anyway...  "Roland!"

	"Boss?"  A big black with his left arm in a cast looked up from
trying to muscle a hand truck one-handed.

	"The runt, here, rides with you!  Stay off that fuckin' arm!  I
don't want you totally off work, you stupid fuck!" DiAngelo ranted.

	"Awww, fuck!  This comin' outta my end?" Roland groused.

	"Nope, it's a freebie!  Show Nate, here the fuckin' ropes.  And
don't dick him over, there's plenty of work around here!"

	"Awright!  Shit!  'Roland, train the newbie!'  'Roland, we're done
with your tired ass, the newbie gets your job...'."  The big man OBVIOUSLY
wasn't happy...

	"That don't sound too good," Nate noted.

	"Dumbass has got six kids, by two different mamas.  He's been
killin' hisself trying to feed alla his brats.  Now he's worried the likes
of YOU will replace him!"  DiAngelo shook his head.

	"Ummm, I can't drive a truck..."

	"Yeah, that's right...  Roland!  Shut up, you fuck -- the kid can't
drive!  Teach him how to load and unload and stop your fuckin' bitching!"

	"Awright!"  Roland eyed Nate truculently.  "You comin' or what the
fuck?"

	The next three and a half hours were extremely busy, with Nate
wheeling the hand truck and learning the ins and outs of load preparation
for efficient delivery to several sites, gems such as, "You stack that there
an' I GUARANTEE it'll fall on your ass!" and "How you gonna get at the ham
if you stick all the bacon in front of it?" or "You gotta run the pre-
packaged shit outta the side door -- unless ya want to haul carcasses over
the fuckin' top of it!"  Nonetheless, the irascible Roland slowly warmed to
him with comments like, "You're gettin' over, kid -- DiAngelo usually makes
'em spend their whole first shift with a hook in their hand," and "Don't
lift like that, you stupid fuck!  You'll bust a gut and won't be able ta use
your dick for a month!"

	One oddity was the size of the deliveries; they made four, and the
two to 'Mom and Pop' outlets turned out to be larger than those to the chain
groceries.  "Why aren't we doing bigger loads to the big groceries?" Nate
asked.

	Roland shrugged.  "Dunno.  We're not gettin' shelf space.  I figger
someone is gettin' paid off, but the head shed says that contracts are 'bout
the same as everyone else, an' volume is good other places..."

	"It's local, then?"

	"Mebbe," Roland went back to shredding the end of his cigar.

	Things seemed to be worst at the chain grocery in Nate's old
neighborhood.  Nate decided he'd pay the place a visit, sometime.  He,
personally, didn't buy much meat there, preferring the small place up the
road, having been burned a couple of times by spoilage...

	They got back with about twenty minutes to spare, and Nate was
introduced to the intricacies of cleaning a refrigerator truck.
Fortunately, they had good rain gear, and he managed not to get soaked too
badly -- except for one almost certainly deliberate shot from Roland, if you
read the grin on his face, rather than the lackluster apology.

	"Ya done good, Kid," Roland begrudged him a grin.  "Let's go see ol'
Noisy..."  When they got to the office area, however, the blinds were drawn,
although there were muffled noises with a suspicious rhythm...  Roland
chuckled.  "It'll be a little bit -- 'Big D' is pronging Stella again..."

	"Oh?"

	"Yeah.  Stella is whatcha call a 'fringe benefit'.  She's the
world's slowest fuckin' typist, an' she can't add, but DiAngelo's ol' lady
sewed her pussy shut a long time ago, an' he likes his wit' some meat on it.
Stella's single an' she needs the work -- an' besides, she likes ta fuck --
he ain't holdin' nuthin' over her head, or anything.  She can walk any time
-- but then she'd hafta find a new job AND a new dick."  He waved it away.
"They're made for each other."

	"Anybody complain?"

	"What for?"  Roland shrugged.  "Work gets done, eventually.  'Sides,
Stella only lets DiAngelo prong her, but she loves to suck cock, and
DiAngelo likes to watch her do it.  Any time one o' us gets a little hard
up, we jus' walk in an' let Stella vacuum it out..."  He rubbed his stubble,
"Great thing when the ol' lady is on the rag an' too uppity to handle it
herself...  Go ahead, get you some!"

	"Nah.  I gotta steady girl an' I don't want to fuck it up," Nate
related.

	"How's she gonna know?"

	"I'D know.  No, I got it good right now -- no way I'm fuckin' up
what I got runnin'."

	"Whatever..."  Roland gave him a look that categorized him as young
and stupid.  "Ever had white pussy?"

	"Well, yeah, as a matter of fact..."  Nate's grin said it all.

	"WELL!"  Roland laughed.  "NOW shit makes sense!"  He scratched his
beard.  "They gonna be at it a while -- Boss likes to get two nuts.  Might
as well bust in..."  He popped open the door, "Yo, Boss!"

	"Yeah?" DiAngelo puffed.  He had the heavy brunette, Stella, bent
over the desk facing the door, obviously going to town, doggy style.  Stella
was still basically dressed -- he'd merely flipped up her skirt, apparently
-- as she leaned on her elbows, looking pink-faced and wild-eyed, obviously
well on her way to an orgasm.

	"Kid's a good shit, Boss," Roland rumbled.  "You payin' him by the
night?"

	"Naw, I'm puttin' him on the payroll, if you're passing him,"
DiAngelo replied.  Turning his limited attention to Nate, he asked, "That
cool with you?"

	"Yeh, fine."  The work wasn't incredibly easy, but it wasn't that
hard, and the salary wasn't that bad, either.  "Mebbe we should leave?"

	"Nah," DiAngelo demurred, "it's okay.  Stella only gets hotter when
she's watched, don't you, Sweetmeat?"

	"Uh... huh," Stella gasped out between strokes.

	"If you want some head, young stuff would be a treat for her,"
DiAngelo offered.  Stella nodded, eyes wide as she gazed at him.

	Nate grinned.  "No offense, but I've got my own, and she'll want all
I got when I get home..."

	DiAngelo eyed him for a second.  Orders to hire the kid had come
down from on high -- maybe he was a spy?  Naw, the Boss didn't care if he
knocked a piece off of Stella, as long as she didn't get pissy about it --
and Stella had wrapped her lips around just about every cock in sight...
"Well, it's around -- and it's white..."

	"So's his, apparently," Roland chuckled.

	"Oho!" DiAngleo grunted.  No wonder the kid was passing up the likes
of Stella!

	Roland ambled forward, "Hey, Stella, want me to milk your jugs a
bit?"

	" 'Kay," Stella puffed, spreading her elbows so her sizeable jugs
were better accessible through the neckline of her blouse.

      "You saving yours for Mama, too, Roland?  How many more kids you
want?" DiAngelo asked.

	Roland, already unbuttoning her blouse and working his hands in to
get at the clasp of her bra, chuckled.  "I guess you could suck the potent
stuff off the top, bein' you're all eager..."  Nate watched him take a fat
brown nipple between thumb and forefinger and start working it.

	Stella started digging in Roland's work pants, then looked up at
Nate.  "Can you watch?"

	Nate frowned, thought about it.  "Yeh, I guess..."  The look on the
big brunette's face was something; she was digging for Roland's meat like
she hadn't eaten in days, while moaning, "Uuuuuhhhh, yeah!  Like that!" and
driving herself back toward her rotund boss.  When Roland's cock appeared
(apparently, it had snagged on his shorts), Nate judged it to be about the
same length as his, but a bit thicker.  Stella went "Mmmmmm!" and started
immediately absorbing it, engulfing the head with her lips.

	DiAngelo managed to sound almost conversational as he grunted,
"Stella's a slut.  She was a good Catholic girl until she was almost thirty,
when she finally discovered what she was missing.  Now she's tryin' to make
up for lost time..."  Stella started going, "MMPH...  MMPH...  MMPH..."
around Roland's thick black cock, so DiAngelo let go a series of rapid-fire
strokes.  Stella's face went cherry red and her eyes glazed while she shook
like a leaf for a long moment, then she went "Ummmm," around Roland's cock
and started bobbing on it again.  DiAngelo settled back to a more leisurely
pace.  "She loves bein' told what a slut she is, in the nastiest way
possible, and she likes to be watched..."  He swatted her on the ass, "C'mon
ya scuzzy bitch!  Milk my dick with that fat pussy of yours, or I'll stick
it in your ass!"

	Nate scratched his head a bit.  "Okay."  He circled around to stand
beside Stella at the head end and made a production of getting a close-up of
her vacuuming Roland's cock.  Roland had a hand behind her head and was
driving deep, apparently going right for the throat.  Stella started
shifting her eyes between Roland's and Nate's...

	Nate had spent some time before meeting Nora perfecting what he
liked to call his 'rap'.  It had been designed to make him sound worldly and
rope in women with greasy compliments and double-entendres -- but it had
design flaws as he had invariably let go with something insulting.  Since
Nora, he'd let the thing go as useless, but maybe it'd work, here --
especially since compliments, per se, didn't seem to be what was being asked
for...  "You be a slut all right.  You'd be surprised -- I know somebody
that turns 'em out regular and keeps 'em runnin' nekkid through the house,
and you," he made an exaggerated examination of the woman, "you be
definitely a slut!"

	Warming up, he went on, "You like that?  You like havin' ol' Roland
shove his monster meat down your neck?  You like suckin' the juice outta
black cocks?  Mebbe we should line everybody up and have 'em fill you up
with spunk so you wouldn't need ta eat dinner!  Would ya like that?"

	Stella had stopped watching Roland; her eyes were locked on Nate's
-- and she was reddening, pinking up in preparation for another orgasm.
Nate went on, "If you was mine, I'd have 'Slut for dark meat' tattooed on
them big titties, and never allow you to wear anything that didn't show it!
I'd put rings in them fat nipples an' tie you outside naked for whoever
happened along to stick his dick into!  Mebbe you oughta ask Roland to take
you down to the 'hood to pull a train!  Get some bruthas to do ya three at a
time -- one in yo' slut mouth, one in that skank pussy and one in yo' big
ass!"

	"HHHHRRRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!" Stella screamed around Roland's
cock!  Her eyes rolled up and she hunched, there, cherry red.  DiAngelo,
slamming away howled, "Jeezus!  She just squirted all over me!  Fuck!  I'm
gonna shoot!"

	"Fuck, me, too!" Roland bellowed above Stella's grunts, cupping her
head to hold himself deep.  His other hand had tugged one of her heavy
breasts up off the desktop by it's nipple, and he was obviously giving it
Hell with his fingers...

	Roland was the first to back off, letting the heavy brunette get
some air.  "Damn, Stella, I'm gonna have to stay away from Mama tonight -- I
think you took two loads!"

	Stella grasped him by the shaft and gasped, "Hang on a sec -- I'll
clean it off..."  Turning to Nate, she gasped, "Thanks a lot!  That was..."
Words apparently failed her at that point; she just shook her head.

	"No problem..." Nate replied.

	Stella went to work in the pubes at the base of Roland's cock, where
dribbles of semen had escaped, here and there, during his ejaculation.
DiAngelo looked up and grunted, "Gimme a second..." grabbing a shop rag from
a counter in reach and shoving it against Stella's sopping opening as he
withdrew.  "Awright, if you're done with fucking around with Roland, get
your slut ass down here and clean me up!"  Stella, apparently taking no
offense, backed away from the desk and squatted to take her supervisor in
her mouth as she had Roland.  "And keep that rag in there!" DiAngelo added,
"You're a fucking swamp!"  Looking up at Nate, he said, "Tomorrow at four,
then?"

	"Sure."

	"You want Saturday, or Sunday?"

	"Lemme ask my girlfriend."

	"Whipped, huh?" DiAngelo leered.

	Nate passed it off, "Yeh.  If you had what I got you would be,
too..."  Turning to Stella, he added, "No offense.  Coupla weeks ago, I
woulda bellied up and dropped two loads an' asked ya if you wanted to meet
some friends, but shit's changed..."  Stella merely smiled and nodded.
"Okay, see ya then."

	"I'll have payroll shit for you tomorrow if Cum-Dumpster here
remembers how ta type," DiAngelo replied, ruffling Stella's thick brown
hair.

	Nate waved and headed for the car.
<1st attachment end>


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