Foreword
This is the eighth in a series of stories about how Bobby Dalton was transformed, from a normal teenaged boy, into a man sought after by many women.  His story starts with "The Making of a Gigolo - Tilly Johnson", and there is much information in that first story, and the ones that followed it, that will be useful to you in understanding what happens in this story.   

For your fullest enjoyment, and because parts of each story are continued in succeeding ones, please read the stories in order.

Bob

==================================

The Making Of A Gigolo - Felicity Chumley
by Beating Off Bob

Foreword
This is the eighth in a series of stories about how Bobby Dalton was transformed, from a normal teenaged boy, into a man sought after by many women.  His story starts with "The Making of a Gigolo - Tilly Johnson", and there is much information in that first story, and the ones that followed it, that will be useful to you in understanding what happens in this story.   

For your fullest enjoyment, and because parts of each story are continued in succeeding ones, please read the stories in order.

Bob

==================================

The Making Of A Gigolo - Felicity Chumley
by Beating Off Bob

Chapter One

1972 - summer


1972 was a pretty interesting year for Bobby, as the seeds he had sown, and which had taken root in fertile soil, began to be harvested.

In June, Jill gave birth to a bouncing baby boy, with coal black hair, whom she named Steven, after her favorite uncle.  Had anyone taken the time to notice, or compare, they'd have seen that this baby looked startlingly like another baby named Jordan, who had been born earlier in the Spring, to Bobby's sister, Mary.   To that fictional observer, it would have become more and more apparent that, though the women he impregnated were quite different,  Bobby's genetic make up was dominant, at least when the babies he made were boys.  

Christy Brown, was then eight months pregnant herself, also with Bobby's baby.  She spent as much time with her housemate Jill, and the new baby, as possible, to get experience for her own impending adventure in motherhood.   It was less time than she wanted to, because her photography studio was doing quite well.

There would be more births of Bobby's children that summer, but those were buns that were already in the oven.  While they matured, Bobby was not idle.

He'd been making love with his second oldest sister, Florence, since December of the previous year.  Beverly, his third oldest sister, regularly did everything BUT fuck him, as her upcoming marriage to Bill Gregory, scheduled for September, crept ever closer.   His fourth oldest sister, Linda, had progressed from watching him pleasure Bev, to lying in bed with him, naked, as his finger taught her pussy how to enjoy something stiff and long in it, and his lips taught her nipples how much joy could be produced from little sucking motions.  His lips on hers were something to be taken for granted, these days.

He'd had to suspend, at least temporarily, intercourse with Jill, and Christy, but was providing full service, so to speak, to Rhonda Wilson, who was pregnant, but didn't know it yet.   He was also in routine touch with Sherry Winston, who had his daughter, Jessica, almost two years previously.  Sam, her husband, thought Jessica was his.  Now that the girl was almost two, Sherry had just informed Bobby that he would think the next one of Bobby's children was his too.

The fourth woman Bobby was actively making love to, on an occasional basis, was the woman who had given birth to him, and who was also pregnant.  Like Christy, Mirriam was beginning to get so large, though, that lovemaking was difficult for her.  Unlike the other women Bobby had impregnated, she did not cotton to the idea of being taken from behind.  That all went back to when she saw her other lover, Ted Brandywine, fuck her best friend, Prudence, that way on a blanket, where he later fucked Mirriam too.    She had always been a little jealous that he got into Prudence first, even though she hadn't intended to let him into her at all.  At least not that day.

It is important to understand that, while Bobby was sexually involved with a variety of women, and had, by the time he was twenty-three, impregnated nine of them, he was not, in the classical sense of the word, a tomcat.   He didn't fuck every woman he met.  He didn't even think about trying to fuck every woman he met.   And, though six of those nine women he'd impregnated, were either married, or engaged to BE married at the time, he didn't seek out women and try to get them to cheat on their husbands.   Boiled down the its most basic form, all Bobby did was give some women what they needed.  In some cases, that was sex.   If a woman was neglected, or abandoned by her husband, and she was lonely and horny, Bobby was willing to meet her needs.   It was actually the same with the divorced woman he had impregnated, Jill, and the widow he had impregnated, Prudence.  

His mother and sister didn't count in this way.  He simply loved them, and wanted them to be happy.  It just so happened that he had been making Mary happy for quite some time, in the same ways he was making some of his other sisters happy, when she decided to get married, and wanted to know what was going to happen on her wedding night.  The reason she got pregnant, was because she had so much fun learning that, that she practiced it for a month before she got married.

Bobby was not, in the classical sense, a gigolo.  Not in the Spring of 1972.  True, he had been paid twenty dollars to make love to Rhonda, but that was more of a joke, than an actual contractual engagement.  Her best friend had offered him the money, and, after he rang her bell, Rhonda had insisted that Janet make good on the debt.  Bobby didn't charge anyone to have sex with them, though.  He had sex with them because he liked them, and wanted them to be happy.

That, too, would change, in the summer of 1972, as we'll find out later.

======================================

The fourth of July was a big day in Granger, Kansas.   It was a hard-working town of about five or six thousand people.  The mainstay of the economy was still farming, though the fertilizer plant on the edge of town was expanding, and hiring more workers every year.  Most of the businesses in town, though, catered to the farmer, generally, and the opportunity to get together and have some good, old-fashioned fun came rarely.  The fourth of July was one of those times.  

This year, for the first time, there was a traveling carnival in town, so the annual celebration was a little more frenetic.  The youth of the town were extra excited to be able to engage in this kind of fun without having to travel to the State Fair, or one of the larger towns, like Great Bend, or Wichita.  Those children mingled freely, regardless of their socio-economic background.

The same was not true of their parents.   The picnic area was set up with about forty tables, of the kind with folding legs, that are common in churches, and town halls, and civic clubs.   They were equally spaced, and all were full, mostly with adults sitting at them. 

But there was an invisible dividing line that shifted, a little bit, as people came and went.  That line divided the "respectable" people, from those who were not to be seen sitting with.  People such as divorced women, who had not remarried ... or women who had children while their husbands were off fighting the Korean war.  There weren't that many unmarried women in town who had children, but they were included in that group as well.

Like most social situations, it was somewhat complicated.  In day-to-day business dealings, there was no line.  Between the children of all these adults, there was no line.  And, even though the line was beginning to blur a bit, old habits die hard, so the line still existed in social settings.

Mirriam Dalton, eight months pregnant ... again! ... and still not married after having seven "war babies", sat uncomfortably on one side of the line.  She was uncomfortable because she was eight months pregnant, and not because she was an "outcast".   Her daughter, who could have sat on the other side of the line, because she was properly married, sat next to her, with her three month old baby, Jordan.  Prudence Harris was also at that table, with her nine month old twins, Katherine and Kyle.   Jill, with her one month old son, Steven was there too.   Christy, eight months pregnant, could have sat on the other side of the line too, because her husband, stationed in Viet Nam, had been home on leave, seven months ago.  Only her doctor knew she was actually eight months pregnant, like Mirriam.

Two other people were sitting with them.  One was Ted Brandywine, who was the lover of both Prudence and Mirriam, who shared him.  The other was Florence, Mirriam's second oldest daughter, and the oldest one living at home.  Flo would be twenty in two months, was not dating anyone, and had no intention of dating anyone.  Bobby gave her everything she needed, as far as she was concerned.  She intended to take over operation of the farm, to allow her mother to "retire" and raise her new baby.   She felt too old to run with the younger teens, and so, sat with the adults.

It just so happened that she was sitting next to Ted.

She knew him, of course.  She knew he was fucking her mother ... was, in fact, suspected to be the father of the baby that was making Mirriam so uncomfortable right now.  She also knew that "things" happened at Prudence's house, when all three of them were there.  She didn't really think about that all that much.  Her mother was her mother, and she loved her.  Whatever she did was her business.

While Flo didn't see that much of Ted, he was invited to supper, occasionally.  He had stayed over night twice, but had been gone in the morning, by the time she got up and got to breakfast.

As for Ted, he was pretty well smitten with his two lovers.  He had adopted this strange lifestyle after his own divorce, and after moving to Granger to make a new start in life, and teach third grade.   He was "Uncle Ted" to Mirriam's daughters, at least the younger ones, and to Constance, Prudence's seventeen year old daughter.  The year he'd spent with the two women had been precious to him, and he had no desire to change things.

That Mirriam was less than enthusiastic about lovemaking, at this point, he understood.   She had been very enthusiastic, up until a month or two ago.  And, Prudence was very enthusiastic again, after having her own twins, though she was worried about getting pregnant again.   She knew he wanted her to have his children, and part of her wanted to do that too.  They had had serious discussions about it.  Both of them knew it was both risky and frivolous for her to get pregnant again, though, and it was beginning to be obvious that measures needed to be taken to prevent that.  The same would be true of Mirriam, after she had her baby.

Not that Ted couldn't enjoy making love to them without making them pregnant, but the possibility of pregnancy had added a special spice to their lovemaking, and that would be gone, if protection was used.

It is quite possible that had some effect on Ted, when Florence, out of sheer boredom, started asking him questions about what it was like to be a teacher, and how in the world he was able to keep his patience with children of that age.  That led into a deeper discussion about places he'd been, and things he'd done.

As they chatted, he looked at Flo, in one sense, for the first time.  He'd seen her, of course, and spoken to her during supper, or when he was coming or going at the farm.  She hadn't paid much attention to him, and he hadn't paid much attention to her.  When he'd met her she was nineteen, and he was in his mid thirties, so that seemed completely normal.

Now, though, as he watched her face, he couldn't believe how he hadn't noticed how much she favored her mother.  Mirriam kept her waist-long hair in a bun, unless she was making love to Ted.  Flo's shorter hair was, and always had been in a pony tail when he saw her, so that may have accounted for some of his blindness.  But her eyes were Mirriam's eyes, and her mouth was Mirriam's mouth.  Her laughter was like her mother's too, and her sharp wit, for that matter.

He found himself enjoying their talk very much.

=====================================

Linda Dalton was standing, looking up at the Ferris Wheel.  The hanging gondolas seemed so frail, as they swung to and fro up there.  She'd always been a little nervous about heights, but she'd always also had a fascination with Ferris Wheels.  She was trying to work up the courage to buy a ticket, when someone bumped into her.  She turned to see Paul Engle, a boy in her class at school.

"Oops, sorry," he said.  He had a calculator in his hand, and had been punching numbers on it while he walked.

"That's OK," said Linda.   

She knew Paul, but had never talked to him.  He was a science geek, and hung around with the other geeks.  As she looked at him now, she wondered why people called them geeks.  She thought of a geek as a skinny kid with glasses, and oily hair.   He wasn't like that at all.  He looked like any other boy, except for the calculator in his hand.

"What are you doing?" she asked, looking at the calculator.

He blinked.  He wasn't used to pretty girls talking to him, and Linda was pretty, as far as he was concerned.

"Um ... I was just calculating the g-forces that would come into play on the Tilt-a-whirl," he said.

"G-forces?" she said, looking doubtful.

"It's the force that's caused by acceleration, in combination with gravity," he said.  He stopped.  Girls like her didn't understand this kind of thing.

"Oh, you mean like when they go up in rockets?" she asked.

He blinked again.  "Yeah, exactly, or when you're in a car, and it turns a corner fast."

"Yes!" she said, smiling.  "That's fun sometimes, but it's scary too."

"It's really only scary if it's uncontrolled, or if the acceleration involved is too much.  It can hurt you if it's too much."   He couldn't believe he was having this conversation with this interesting girl.

"Yeah, it's scary," she said, looking back at the Ferris Wheel.  "It makes my stomach do flip flops.   I wish I wasn't too chicken to ride some of these rides."

"Which ones?" he asked.

"The Ferris Wheel, for one," she said.

"Oh, there's hardly any g-force at all involved with that," he said.  On the way up, you're pressed into the seat, but not that much.  You really wouldn't notice it.  It's on the way down that you might feel it.  Part of that is not being able to see what's coming, though, and it's just psychological."

"Gosh, you're sure smart," said Linda, who wasn't trying to butter him up at all.  She just thought he was smart.  What he said made a lot of sense to her.

"Haven't you ever ridden one?" he asked.  He'd ridden every ride at the carnival already.  He'd spent three months allowance doing it, but he didn't care.  He was having too much fun calculating things, and comparing them to the physical experience of the ride.

"I'm too chicken," she sighed.

"I could go with you," he said.  He instantly wished he hadn't offered.  Girls like this didn't ride rides with geeks.  He could already feel the rejection.

"Would you?" she asked.

Paul blinked a third time.  He gave a tentative smile.  "Sure," he said.

It got better, from Paul's point of view.  Much better.  In fact, it exceeded his expectations, calculated on when he thought he might experience certain stimuli in his life.   For instance, he'd calculated that it was highly unlikely that a female would ever press any part of her breast against him, not counting family hugs, until he was half way through his second year of college.  His calculations had to do with social integration patterns, and maturity levels, and meeting girls who were geeks like him.   There were a number of variables, but even taking them into account only affected his calculation by six months, on either side.

As soon as they were seated in the gondola, though, and the safety bar was lowered, she scooted up next to him, and put her arm through his, pressing her left breast firmly ... and warmly, he noted ... against the lateral head of the triceps brachii muscle of his right arm.  He may be forgiven for noticing the failure of his calculations, by virtue of being instantly electrified by her warm breast, and her warm breath, which wafted against the pinna, or ear flap, of his right ear, as she moaned: "I'm so scared!" 

Paul stifled the odd impulse to put his arm around her, mostly because that would mean that her soft breast would be removed from his arm.  He just said:  "It will be OK.  I promise."

And it was OK.  As they went round and round, and Paul delivered an ongoing explanation of what she was feeling, and why she was feeling it, Linda had fun.   She had more fun on the Tilt-a-whirl next, and then the Octopus.  And she wasn't the only person having fun.  Pretty soon, all Paul could concentrate on was that breast, which she kept pushing against him, and which inertial changes, and centrifugal force tended to make rub, back and forth, against his arm.   To his delight, (though it almost made him catatonic initially,) he found that, if he DID put his arm around her, she tended to put BOTH of her arms around him!  She also had a way of burying her face in the transition between his shoulder and neck - he couldn't quite remember the muscle names, for some reason - that pushed her breast against the side of his chest.  He didn't even try to think of the medical names associated with that.  

He just enjoyed it immensely.

By the time she had had enough, she took his hand, and pulled him to the picnic area, where she took him to a table that seemed full of either pregnant women, or women with little babies.

"This is Paul!" she said, to a woman who looked like she might go into labor any second.  He couldn't help but look at the bulging abdomen, to see if the uterus, under the tight shirt and skin of that abdomen was moving ... rippling, as it would during a contraction.  It wasn't.

"Hi, Paul," came a chorus of female voices.   

He looked around.  "Is this the Lamaze section, or something?" he asked.

There were chuckles and giggles.

"No, silly," said Linda.  "This is my mother, and that's Aunt Prudence, and over there is my sister Mary, and that's Ted, talking to my sister Florence, and this is ..."  She faltered, when it came to Jill.  Prudence and Mirriam knew her, but the kids didn't.

"Jill," she said, smiling.  "I'm just a friend of the family, and this is Christy, my roommate and best friend."

"I'm pleased to meet you all," said Paul, remembering his manners.

"Oooo," said Mary, smiling.  "He's polite.  I like him already."

"I do too," said Linda, having no idea that, by saying that, she had just made Paul her slave for life.   The only way he could keep from sinking down to the grass was by trying to calculate his blood pressure, based on the rush of heat in his face, and the thumping he could feel in his chest.  It didn't work, because he didn't have enough information, but he felt better.

"We've been riding rides," said Linda.  "I rode the Ferris Wheel!" she said, proudly.  She'd never told anybody about her fear of the ride, though, so she didn't get much reaction.   "Where's Bobby?"

"I don't know," said Mirriam.  "I haven't actually seen him tonight.  Why?"

"I just wanted Paul to meet him too," said Linda.

Mirriam looked at Prudence, who raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

"You know," said Paul, staring around him at all the babies he could see.  "It's really astonishing how similar all these babies look.  They could almost be brothers and sisters."

That got some reaction, at least from Mirriam and Prudence, who were aware of Bobby's carnal prowlings, and the fact that he had impregnated more than just them.  Actually, to be honest, Mirriam wasn't sure whether her son, or Ted was responsible for the pain in her back, right now, but this boy's comment caused discomfort.

"All babies look alike," said Linda, not aware she was saving the day.  "Come on," she said, pulling at Paul.  "Let's go get watermelon!"

"Very observant young man," whispered Prudence, when they were twenty yards away.

"Too observant, if you ask me," sighed Mirriam.

==================================

Shortly after that disruption, it was announced that the homemade ice cream was ready.  All the women wanted some, but not enough to get up and get it, if they were pregnant, and those holding babies didn't want to disturb them either.  Thus it was that Florence and Ted volunteered to go get it for them.

"I'm really surprised I haven't gotten to know you better," said Flo, as they walked.  "You're very interesting."

"I'm really surprised I never noticed how much you look like your mother," he said in return.

"Are you flirting with me?" she asked, half kidding.

"You know," he said, sounding amazed.  "I might be."

"You can't do that," she scoffed.  "You're bedding my mother!"

"Bedding," he repeated.  "I haven't heard it called that since I was a little boy."

"Don't change the subject," she said, laughing.  "I knew men were basically amoral."

"I'm not amoral," he said, sounding injured.  "My morals are just a bit confused, since I moved here."

"You can say that again," said Flo, grinning.

"My morals are just a bit confused, since I ..." he started, and was cut off by her slap on his arm.

"I didn't mean it literally," she laughed.

"Why are you here alone?" he asked, suddenly.

"What do you mean?" she replied.

"You're a beautiful young woman," he said.  "You're intelligent, and interesting.  Surely you have a boyfriend."

"I don't need a boyfriend," Flo said.  She hadn't meant to say it quite like that.  She was a little flustered at the compliments he had paid her, though, and it rattled her.

"Don't tell me you're a lesbian," he moaned.  "That's just not fair to some poor guy."

"I am NOT a lesbian!" she squealed.  "Why would you even THINK that?"

"Well," he said, "for one thing, you said you didn't need a boyfriend.  What else was I supposed to think?"

"I cannot believe I'm having this conversation with my mother's lover!" she said, trying to change the subject.  Why she didn't need a boyfriend was something she certainly didn't want to talk about ... not to this man ... and not to anybody else, for that matter.   If people found out she was getting all her loving from her older brother, it would be a scandal.

"Probably not for much longer," he sighed, thinking about how his lovemaking with Mirriam would probably be severely curtailed.

"I should hope not!" she said, misinterpreting his comment to mean that the conversation would not last much longer.

"I'd gotten the impression that you girls didn't mind our ... relationship," he said.

"We don't," said Linda, stopping.  "What are you talking about?"

"You said you were having a conversation with your mother's lover, and I said I probably wasn't going to be her lover much longer," he said.  "Wasn't that what we were talking about?"

"No, I thought you meant ..."  She stopped.  "What do you mean you might not be her lover much longer?

"It's too dangerous, at her age.  She doesn't want to get pregnant again.  Prudence too," he sighed.

"Well, for pity's sakes," she said.  "That's what the pill is for!  That's why I'm on the pill!"  

Flo's face went white, and she closed her eyes.  Why in the world couldn't she control her mouth around this man?

"You don't need a boyfriend ... but you're on the pill," mused Ted.  He grinned.  "Don't worry.  It's none of my business.  I'm just happy that some guy out there is making you happy too."

"I'll talk to my mother," she said, trying to change the subject again.

"You'll do no such thing!" he said.  "Your mother is a big girl, and she can decide whatever she wants to decide."

"But she's been so happy since she met you," moaned Flo.

"I'm glad to hear that," he said.  "Now, if we don't get that ice cream, and get it back to them, she's not going to be all that happy.  We can talk later."

"Right!" she said, relieved that the disturbing conversation was to be held in abeyance.

It wasn't the only disturbing thing about the evening for them, though.   After they had served everyone else, and were eating their own ice cream, their eyes kept colliding, as they tried looking at each other without being obvious about it.

================================

The night was hot for another couple, who had drifted off into the dark.  Tim had picked up Constance in his car, even though it was only seven blocks from her house to the town square.  To be honest, he had hoped they'd end up in it, which is where they were now.

He'd also hoped she'd end up doing what she was doing.  He lay sprawled on the back seat, his legs open, as she knelt in the floorboards, her head bobbing up and down in his lap.  He couldn't believe how wonderful it felt.  Her mouth was so warm, and her tongue felt so good.

"I'm gonna shoot!" he gasped.  He always warned her, and she never reacted, except to drop her mouth on him even harder.  He felt the ecstasy of relief, and heard her frenzied gulps as she dealt with his spend.  He hadn't had any interest in another girl for months.

She stood up on her knees, wiping her mouth with the back of one hand, and swallowed again.

"I love that," she sighed.

"Ohhhh baby," he sighed back.  "I love it too."

"I need you to do something for me," she panted.

"OK," he said, not even thinking about what it might be.

"I don't want to go all the way," she said.  "But I'm so horny right now ... I need you to touch me."

Tim's heart leapt in his chest.  She'd never let him touch her anywhere but on her breasts.  Somehow, his endorphin-soaked brain recognized that wasn't what she was talking about now.

She came up on top of him, her lips seeking his.  He didn't even care that his sperm was probably still in her mouth.  All he could concentrate on was that one of her hands was working at her belt, and the opening of her shorts.  He sent his hand to help, if possible and together they pushed her shorts and panties down.

She couldn't spread her legs, but Tim didn't care.   He knew what to do.  He'd done this with Mandy Thompson, when they were both only twelve.  It had scared them both half to death.  They'd been friends ever since, but had never touched each other again, after that.

"Ooooooo" she moaned, as his finger slid through slippery hair, and between even slipperier pussy lips.  He hooked the finger.  He could just barely get it inside her.  This was as far as he'd gotten with Mandy, but he knew he had to rub.  He just didn't quite know what to rub ... or how to rub, as it were.

He made a few hurried thrusts with his hand, and was rewarded with delighted moans from the girl he now thought of as his permanently steady girlfriend.  She kissed him.

It went on for ten minutes.

"OK," she sighed, finally, pulling at his hand.   Had he asked, she'd have told him she was getting sore.  Had she known the difference, she'd have also told him she didn't have an orgasm.  It felt wonderful, but it didn't quite scratch the itch that was tormenting her.

Ten minutes later, clothing straightened, and normal smiles pasted on their faces, they strolled back into the light, to rejoin the celebration, just in time for ice cream.



Chapter Two

Linda, who had not, in anyone else's opinion, been blatant in her sudden friendship with Paul, felt differently about it.   She'd been on a few dates, and had talked to a ton of boys.  But she had never been fascinated with a boy like she was fascinated with Paul.  He had been so sweet to her, and so shy that she just wanted to eat him up.  She had wanted to kiss him in the worst way, but had not, saving that for their first official date, which she had asked HIM on, after they ate watermelon, and were standing, watching the fireworks show.

She had said: "There's a new movie showing at the Bijou.  I sure wish I knew somebody who wanted to go with me to watch it."

He'd taken the bait like a starving rat.

"I ... I ... I'd go with you," he stammered.  

"You would!" she'd squealed.  "Oh, I'd like that!"

Paul, who had looked clinically at his erections in the past, and thought about them clinically, as he made them go away, almost bent over to hide the one in his pants, just then.

It hadn't worked, though.  She'd seen it.  She hadn't said anything about it, of course, and had pretended to ignore it, but she felt a thrill at having produced it, just like she felt a thrill, when she went alone, to see Bobby, and he got hard for her too.

Thinking about Bobby made her feel a little better.  She could go see him, tonight, and take care of the heat in her belly, as she snuck secretive glances at the front of Paul's pants.

Yes, she thought ... she definitely needed to spend some time with Bobby tonight.

====================================

The subject of Linda's thoughts, was also the subject of a discussion that was taking place on the other side of the invisible line that separated Granger's "proper" citizens, from the "undesirables".

Bobby's name came up as a fluke, really, in response to how the conversation started in the first place.  It was being held between twenty-eight year old Felicity Chumley, and her friend from the Country Club, Millie Vaughn.   "Country Club" was a euphemism for the old house, on the old farm, that had been bought and turned into a nine hold golf course.  A swimming pool and tennis court had been added, and the house refurbished by gutting it, redoing the floor plan, and putting a new exterior on it.  It was pretty nice, all things considered, and served really good food from what had been the farm house kitchen, and had also been completely renovated.  Granger's elite, which compromised some hundred and fifty people who could muster up the dues to become members, liked to think of it as a country club.

It had been at the country club where Millie, whose husband owned one of two drug stores in town, and Felicity met.  Millie was thrilled.  Just about everybody in Granger knew OF Felicity Chumley, who was the second wife of Chester Chumley, the richest man in town.  Barely anyone actually KNEW her, though.     

Chester had inherited wealth, in the form of his father's steel and pipe business, which had been a mainstay of the town economy for decades.  Through savvy business dealings, he had made a ton of money, not only for himself, but for a number of other people in town.   Then, at age seventy-three his wife of forty-eight years had died, and all the heart went out of him.   He had managed to hold on to his desire to run business for three more years, and then sold out, making even more money.  The new owner had dismantled it and sold off the pieces.   It had been a huge blow to the town, but nobody blamed Chester.

Chester, who was born and raised in Granger, stayed in his mansion, on a three hundred acre plot of land, South of town.  All he kept, from the company that had been in his family for two generations, was his money, and his secretary, Felicity Hodges.

Felicity grew up Mission, Kansas, a suburb of Kansas City, where she was a popular girl, and a cheerleader at Shawnee Mission North High School.  She knew she was destined for great things, but her family couldn't afford college, and her grades weren't good enough for a scholarship.    She managed to pay her way through the Filby Secretarial School, in Kansas City, Missouri, which found her employment with a steel and pipe company in someplace called Granger, Kansas.  At the tender age of twenty, she rode Greyhound bus to Granger, and rented a room at the Dreamland Motor Inn for two nights, paying in advance, because that was all the money she had.  When she reported to Chumley Steel and Pipe, the next day, she  found out she was working for Chester Chumley, whose wife had died as she was getting off the bus, the day before.

It was madness, from her point of view.   Everybody in the place was crying, and nobody wanted anything to do with talking to the new girl.  She'd already filled out the paperwork, sending it in advance, and she was already on the payroll.  She wouldn't get paid for a week, assuming anyone was still capable of getting the payroll done, what with all the weeping and gnashing of teeth going on.  For lack of anything else to do, she took over the desk that was obviously hers, and dug into whatever work she could puzzle out, that needed to be done.    She didn't even see her boss for three days. 

Three years later, when Chester sold the business, and asked Felicity to marry him, she was twenty-three, and he was almost seventy-eight.

To be fair to Felicity, which almost nobody was when the wedding took place, she was probably the person who saved Chester from just withering away and dying, following his wife's death.   She didn't "go after" him, as she was sometimes accused.  Nor did she do anything more than care about him, and his loss.   That care was genuine, on her part.  Chester reminded her of her grandfather, who she had loved with all her heart, and who had died when she was sixteen.   

It was her detachment from the tragedy at Chumley Steel and Pipe company that kept the business going for the first month after Chester lost interest in things.   She was his executive secretary, which, in itself scandalized veteran employees.  She had been sent there by mistake, obviously.   An executive secretary was older ... more experienced ... not a blond bombshell, with an hourglass figure.   She ignored all that, and demanded action, on behalf of Chester Chumley.   When shipments were delayed, she raked the shipping clerk over the coals.  When payroll was late, she ordered the payroll clerk to work overtime.   When people ignored her, or, worse yet, defied her, she typed up memos, and took them to Chester, who signed them, more often than not without reading them.

At the same time, she took care of Chester.  She made him eat.  She took him home each night, afraid that he'd crash into a telephone pole, on purpose, if she didn't.  He had servants, who could take care of him at home, and who resented the questions of this interloper they didn't know.  They resented her so much that they took extra care in doing their jobs, just so she would have nothing to harp about.

She talked to him, and listened to his stories about his wife, and all the things they'd done together.   They were childless, which was another nail in his coffin.  He had no one to pass the company on to.  She sat with him, while he cried, and patted his hand, handing him tissues.

Basically, while everyone else around him pulled back, for fear of getting personally involved in his grief, Felicity put herself close to him, because she felt sorry for him, and liked him.

There was never any hanky panky.  Felicity wouldn't have thought of doing it in the first place, and Chester couldn't bear to think of soiling the memory of his wife.  No one could say they'd seen her do anything untoward, or flirty, or seductive.

She was his sounding board, when he decided to sell the business, and did all the paperwork herself, checking and double checking the contracts, to make sure what was promised, would actually happen.  She was the one who arranged severance packages, for those who didn't want to work for the new owner.  Later, many people would find out about that and rue the day they'd decided to stay.  They'd find out that, if they hadn't hated Felicity Hodges, they'd have listened to her warnings, and would have been much better off.

When Chester Chumley asked for her hand in marriage ... no one was more surprised than Felicity Hodges.

It was not, oddly enough, an easy decision for her to make.   She had spent so much time on her job and boss, for the three years she worked for him, that her social life was non-existent.   Even if she'd had time to date, it was unlikely anyone would have asked her out.  She was "The Bitch", informally, if people were even that nice when they talked about her.   That changed to "The Vampire Bitch" when word of his proposal got out.   People weren't all that careful about how loudly they said it, either.  The new owner was bringing his own staff with him, so the Vampire Bitch wouldn't be there to torment them any more.   

She knew that no one would ever leave her alone, if she married the poor man.  She knew she'd be hated forever.   At the same time, she was without a job, without a place to live, and without prospects, since only Chester could write her a recommendation, and that recommendation would be suspect, if anyone found out about his marriage proposal.  She knew what people thought.  They thought she'd already had sex with him.  Potential employers would think that too.  

Chester wouldn't listen to anybody either, though many people tried to convince him he'd been duped, or scammed, and that all she was after was his money.

Chester, however, knew this girl.  He knew her better than anybody else in the company.  He knew she was a caring, sensitive woman, who was hurt by the way she was treated.  He may not have been interested in running the business, for the last three years, but he wasn't blind, or deaf.  He knew who had kept things going, and he knew it wasn't him.  

He also knew he didn't have much time left, and, after three years of mourning, he decided he was going to sit back, with a pretty girl, and enjoy what he could.

The overriding thing in Felicity's mind, and the thing on which her decision hinged, was that she just liked him.  He was a dear, sweet man, who'd been crushed, but had struggled back up.  She didn't care about his money.  She just liked him.  And, to be honest, she, like Chester, thought his time was probably short anyway.  She could always start over, with a man her own age, when Chester went to his rest.

So she'd said "Yes", and became Felicity Chumley.  

She also became suddenly rich, beyond her wildest dreams.

That hadn't been the fur-lined basket she'd thought it would be.  She had been right that people would hate her, and be jealous of her.  She ignored that, and found new pursuits to use her intensity on.  She and Chester started a scholarship program for the young people in town to take advantage of, if they wanted to go to college.  It wasn't a giveaway program, but required good grades, and a willingness to work hard.    They took over sponsoring the fourth of July fireworks extravaganza, which was a real relief to the town fathers, smarting by then under the loss of steel and pipe, and the revenue it had put into the town coffers, before it was disassembled.  She loaned money to a young couple, who started the first Humane Society office the town had ever had, and made other small business loans to people trying to better their lives.

And, over the four years since she had been married to Chester, opinion had gradually softened.  Not completely, but no one called her a bitch any more.  She still spent most of her time with Chester, and had few social contacts.   Her decision to join the country club was an effort to ease the loneliness in her life, and advance, if possible, the glimmerings of good will she sensed being extended toward her.

When she met Millie, who treated her with respect, she reached out to her too.

=====================================

It was as Felicity and Millie were watching the fireworks extravaganza, and chatting, that Bobby's name came up.   Felicity had seemed distracted all night.  Chester was ill, and hadn't come to the celebration, so Millie thought that might be what was bothering her.

"You're worried about him, aren't you?" said Millie.

"What?"  Felicity looked at her.  "Who?  Chester?  No, he's just feeling his age, mostly.  He gets tired so easily.  I think he's stretching the truth about being sick, so he didn't have to come out and glad-hand everybody.  I think he'll be fine."

"Well, what's wrong, then?" asked Millie.  "You've been somewhere else have the night, and you haven't left my side."

Felicity shrugged.  "Its nothing, really.   My ten year High School reunion is in two weeks."

"Well that's wonderful!" said Millie.  "Just imagine how impressed everybody will be when they find out you've done so well for yourself."

"That's just it," said Felicity.  "I know how lucky I am.  I know Chester loves me, and I really love him too ..."

"But ..." prompted Millie.

Felicity frowned.  "I can't take Chester there.  First off, he already said no.  He doesn't like to travel.  Second, no matter how much I love him, I'd be a laughing stock.  You know that.  I didn't care ... here ... where my home is, but I know it would bother me with my old friends.  I know it's wrong, but I can't help it."

"So, go alone, dressed to the nines, with enough diamonds on to blind them all," said Millie.  That's what she would have done.

"I can't do that either," said Felicity.  "It wouldn't work.   Most of them were rich when I went to school with them, and are probably doing as well as I am now."

"I doubt that, seriously," said Millie.

"You don't know them," said Felicity.  "They've had money all their lives.  Money doesn't mean the same thing to them that it does to people like you and me."

"You know what you need to do," said Millie, slyly.  "You need to find some young hunk to take with you, and pawn him off as your rich husband."

"That's what Chester said," Felicity replied, frowning.

"You're kidding!" said Millie.

"No I'm not," said the richest woman in town.  "I was pretty pissed at him."

"Why?" asked Millie, incredulous.  "If he said you should do it, why wouldn't you want to?"

"In the first place, Chester is my husband.  I don't want to go on what amounts to a date with a strange man.  I'm married!   Besides, where am I going to find ... what did you call it ... some hot hunk?  Where am I going to find somebody like that?   And even if I did, I'd probably hate him.  Men are so weirded out by money, and especially women with money."

"Actually," said Millie, looking around.  "I was thinking of somebody when I said that."

"Who?" asked Felicity, unable to suppress her curiosity.

"He's here, somewhere," said Millie, still gazing this direction and that.  "I saw him earlier."

"Who is he?" asked Felicity.

"His name is Bobby Dalton," said Felicity, bending to look around an obstruction.

"I've never heard of him," said Felicity.

"You've never heard of anybody," said Millie, only paying half attention to what she was saying.  "All you ever do is stay home with Chester, and come to the club with me."

Felicity was about to make a retort, when she saw Millie stiffen and smile.

"There he is," she said.  There was an odd sound in her voice.

"Where?" asked Felicity.

"OK," said Mirriam.  "See Jennifer Langston?"

"Who's that?" asked Felicity.

"Good grief, Felicity, you HAVE to get out more," moaned Millie.  "The woman in the pink top and blue shorts.

"OK," said Felicity.

"Look past her on the right.  He's wearing jeans and a tank top ... black hair ... the one who is just killer handsome."  Millie sighed.

Felicity looked at the young man, who was laughing, and holding a piece of watermelon.  He seemed to be talking to a woman Felicity did know ... Martha Thompson, who had recently joined the country club, with her husband.

"The one talking to Martha Thompson?" she asked.

Millie had to move over to where Felicity was.  "Yes, that's him.  I didn't see Martha.  OH!  She knows him too!  I bet he did some work for her too."

"Work?" asked Felicity.

"He's a handyman," said Millie.  "He does all kinds of things.  He tore up our old cracked sidewalk, and put down paving stones.  It looks so much better.  Anyway, I got to know him a little bit.  He's a very sweet young man, and to-die-for handsome."  That odd tone was back in Millie's voice.

"I can see that," said Felicity, examining Bobby.  He reminded her of Elvis Presley, for some reason.  She decided it was the lock of curling hair that fell on his forehead.  She glanced at Millie, who was looking longingly at the boy.  "Millie!" she said, her voice hushed.  "Don't tell me you did something with that man!"

"Of course not!" said Millie, her face blushing.  Then she took a deep breath, and got control of herself.  "But I sure thought about it."

"Well," said Felicity, looking at him again.  "He does look like he'd clean up nicely.  Some clothes, and a professional haircut ..."   She frowned.  "But he'd have to be able to play the part of a businessman, and I don't think 'handyman' is going to quite cut it, for as nicely as we'd be dressed."

"He's very intelligent," said Millie.  "He can talk about anything.  You could just say he's in construction, and leave it at that.  Who cares where his money came from?  All that matters is that he's rich, and handsome, and you bagged him."

Felicity looked at her friend.  Sometimes, the way Millie thought seemed crass and ... common.   She gave herself a mental shake.  She had no business deciding who was 'common' and who wasnt.  She was common herself.  Marrying Chester hadn't change her from what she was before that ... had it?

She looked back at the man, and saw him lean down and pick up Martha's four year old, who hugged the man around the neck.  The man seemed completely at home holding the little boy, and continued to talk to Martha, as if they were friends.   If all he'd done was work for her, he must be very likable indeed.

"I could ask him for you," said Millie, sounding eager.

"No!" said Felicity, immediately.  "I'll talk to Chester again.  He may know this man, or something about him.  I won't do this unless I'm convinced Chester means it.  Sometimes he teases me." 

"It's not like you're going to do anything with him," said Millie.  "I mean he'd just be your escort, really."

"You were tempted," said Felicity.  "Weren't you."

"Well," said Millie, her voice suddenly light and airy.  "I suppose I was ... a little.  But he was a perfect gentleman.  He looked at me, but that was all.  Well, he talked to me a lot, as I watched him work, but that was different.  He was just being friendly."

"I'm not sure being tempted ... even a little ... would be good for me," said her friend.

======================================

What Felicity meant, by her last comment that night, before she forced a change of subject to something less unsettling, was really quite simple.

Felicity, when she went to work for Chumley Steel and Pipe, was a ripe young woman, in the prime of her breeding age.  The circumstances she found herself in did not lend themselves to that situation.  She went from being a carefree young woman, who could flirt with the best of them, and who had felt more than one stiff penis filling her sensitive pussy, to a dragon lady who men feared.  In the three years she was Chester's secretary, it became clear to everyone in the company who really held the reigns of power.  Chester signed whatever documents she prepared for his signature, including those that led to the firing of people who did less than was expected of them.  It was true that she was always right ... that her head for business, though untrained, was almost astonishingly clever when it came to things that kept the company healthy.   It never occurred to anyone that she had access to all the historical documents of the company and that she studied them, both at work, and at home, learning how the company had done well, and where it had done poorly, in the past.

And Chester, though he had no enthusiasm for the business any longer, wasn't simply a robot either.  His malaise didn't prevent him from reading what she put in front of him.   He did not, as people thought, sign anything she put in front of him.   On many occasions, he made changes, and had his secretary re-type a document.  She never asked questions about that, but did what he wanted, and then studied why he might have corrected her, learning more.

Then, when that part of her life was over, and she could have gone somewhere else, where men would have sighed over her and chased her with great enthusiasm, she had agreed to marry a seventy-seven year old man.

They made love, at first with the aid of certain Oriental remedies, assisted with a device she was able to find on an infrequent business trip to Chicago.  It was a vacuum pump, and it helped, when she used it on his penis.   He was quite good at loving her with his mouth and fingers, and she learned to do the same to him, when it wouldn't get hard enough to penetrate her young, muscular vagina.  For the last two years, oral satisfaction was about all he could manage, and about the only way she could help him achieve an orgasm.

She hadn't really minded.   He was tender and sweet.  That he adored her was something that was plain every day.  No woman could be adored like that, and not feel great tenderness for the man who almost worshipped her.  She loved him.  It wasn't quite the same as the love she might have felt if he were fifty years younger, but it was still true love.  She tried not to think about the last man she had lain with, who had been her age.   That wasn't too hard.  She had lived at home while she went to secretarial school, so her opportunities to spread her legs were limited to those few times she went home with a date, and then had him take her home.  Her parents would never have stood for her to stay out all night, even though she was well above the age of eighteen.  It was just the way things were, and she knew that.

And, these last four years were just the way things were again, in her mind.  She loved Chester. He was very good to her.  He had some years left, after which she would assume some other life path - she had no idea what - and things would be the way they were then, too.   To be honest, she didn't think about whether Chester would leave all his money to her or not.  There were some nieces and nephews out there, who came, infrequently, to visit, and who were nice, as far as strangers seem nice.  They didn't have much to do with her, because they were all older than she was too.

But, try as she might, she could not forget those powerful memories of lying under a young, thrusting bull, whose penis wasn't half hard, and attached to an old, wrinkly body.  She knew what it was to be breathless during sex, and to wish that an orgasm would never stop.   Some part of her mind suspected that the young man, as she thought of him, at the 4th of July celebration, would be able to leave her breathless, if she let him, and that she couldn't help but be tempted by that.

No ... even a little temptation would be very dangerous, and she knew that.   She thought about that as she drove home, alone, to go to bed with her eighty-year old husband.

=============================================

By the time Linda was through dragging Paul all over the square, and through the carnival, she was convinced there was such a thing as love at first sight.  She could not think of a time when she'd felt more feminine, or had more fun, with the possible exception of being given an orgasm by Bobby.   The look in Paul's eye, as he looked at her made her feel powerful.  And, once she got past the stereotype that she'd built about him, and some of his friends, she found him to be a fun and funny boy to be with.  Being able to tease him with her body was fantastic fun.  She had no idea how cruel that was, to a young man who thought he had no chance with a girl like her, but she hadn't done it to be cruel.  She'd only done it because it felt good.  The three or four kisses on the cheek she'd given him had helped - him, at least - in terms of convincing him that she was not toying with him, just to laugh at him later.

Neither did her somewhat sober reflection, which she shared with him, when it was time to go back home.  She had stood, holding both of his hands, and staring into his eyes.

"I have to go now," she said.  "I had a really good time, tonight.  I like you, and I hope you like me."

"Are you kidding?" he almost gasped.  He had done a lot of almost gasping that night, as his world was turned upside down.

"No," she said, seriously.  "Since we're going to the movies later ... are you going to ask me to be your girlfriend?"

"Me?" he wheezed.  "Be your boyfriend?"  His knees felt weak again.  He was used to that by now.  He hadn't thought through a single calculation for over half an hour.  All he wanted to do was spend a few more minutes with her, have her touch him just once more, and smile at him.  If that happened, he was sure he could die happy.

"Yes," she said.  "I know I'm not smart, like your friends, but I really like you."

"Girlfriend ..." The word kind of burbled off his lips.  He'd calculated he wouldn't have one of those for at least five hundred and eighty days, give or take ten days.  It was one of his goals, and he had it all planned out.   This night hadn't been part of the planning, or supposed to happen.

"Please don't say no," she said.  "Can't you just think about it for a while?  I'll try to learn science and all that stuff.  My sister, Suzie likes that stuff, and she might help me."

Paul's intelligence finally battered its way through his adolescent paranoia, and poor social self image.   He was about to lose a chance that every single one of his male friends would kill for.

"I like you!" he blurted.

"Oh, I'm so glad!" yipped Linda.  

She started leaning closer, and Paul, thinking she was going to kiss him, prepared to faint dead away.  He knew that would happen, if she really kissed him, so he bent his knees a little, so that, when he lost it, they would collapse, instead of stiffen.  That way he wouldn't topple, and there was less chance that he'd get hurt.

"I can't kiss you good night," she said, here lips inches from his.  "That would be too forward.  But if you're going to be my boyfriend, I can kiss you on our next date.  Would that be all right?"

Paul could smell the corn dog on her breath, and he was suddenly ravenous.

"Uh huh," he said, his voice dreamy.

She smiled, and he thought his heart would tear itself out of his chest, beating so furiously, like it was.

"We could go to the movie ... tomorrow afternoon," she suggested.

"Uh huh," he said, dreamily again.

Linda looked at him.  That he adored her was plain, and it affected her deeply.  She looked around.  Nobody was really paying attention to them, and it was pretty dark.

"I guess one little kiss wouldn't hurt," she whispered, and pressed her lips to his.  She just naturally pushed the tip of her tongue into his mouth.  She kissed Bobby like that all the time, and it felt good.  She pulled back.  "Mmmm, you taste like popcorn," she said.   "See you tomorrow!"

Then she was off, running like a deer, to leave Paul standing there, bent over slightly.  Not only did he have a boner that wouldn't quit, but his balls were starting to hurt too.

Only that kept him from sinking to the ground.


Chapter Three

In the back of the pickup truck, which Flo was driving, while Mirriam sat, trying to make herself comfortable in the passenger seat, the scene was a little bit like it had been the year before, when Flo had seen Bev's hand drop and squeeze the front of Bobby's jeans.

Bev wasn't there, though.  She was with Bill Gregory, who would bring her home.  This year, it was Linda who sat beside him, leaning back against the back of the cab.  Suzie and the twins, were chatting animatedly about the night, in the bed of the truck.   Linda leaned over to whisper in Bobby's ear.

"I'm going to come see you tonight," she said.

"OK," said Bobby.  He'd had a good time at the party too.  He'd gotten to hold most of his children, and their mothers had left him pleasantly on the edge of being horny.

Later, as she dropped her nightgown, and climbed in bed with him, Linda kissed him with a little extra ardor.

"I found a boyfriend, tonight," she said.

"Oh, really?" he said.

"I tried to find you, to show him to you, but we got kind of busy, having fun."

"How did you stumble on this boyfriend?" asked Bobby.   Prior to this, Linda hadn't expressed any real interest in any particular boy.

"His name is Paul Engle," she said, rubbing her breasts against her brother's chest.  "I never noticed him before, but he took me on some rides," she explained.

"And that made you want him for a boyfriend?" asked Bobby, smiling.

"He was nice to me," she said, reaching for Bobby's penis.  She wrapped her hand around it, and slid it up and down.  She was getting good at that.  "He helped me not be scared of some of the rides."

"Did he do this?" asked Bobby, catching a nipple and squeezing it gently.

She shivered, and ground her pussy against his thigh.

"No," she sighed.  "He didn't try anything.   I wanted him to, but he didn't."

"You wanted him to." said Bobby.

"I wanted to kiss him," she said, "like this."

She kissed him, and crawled up on top of him while she did so.  She settled her pussy down on his stiff prick, the way she had watched Bev do so many times, but had done only twice herself.  She started rocking, and felt the rush of sweet pleasure inundate her loins.

When she stopped kissing him, to breathe, Bobby cupped her breasts, and squeezed them.

"You probably shouldn't kiss him like this," he said, smiling.  "Not for a while, anyway."  He pushed up at her with his rod.

She felt like giggling, but it came out as a moan, as her clit scraped along his prick.

"I really like him," she panted, moving faster.  "I really like him a lot."

"Just be careful with him," said Bobby, feeling the urge to splatter his stomach with spunk.

"Ohhhhh," she whined, feeling the orgasm she'd wanted for the last three hours rushing toward her.  

She was so excited that she was a little extra enthusiastic in her movements.  She also leaned a little further forward than she had, the last two times she did this.  That combination, resulted in something unplanned, which was that she rode off the tip of Bobby's prick on the way up, and impaled her pussy on two inches of it on the way back.   It was a little like a car, sliding on the ice in winter, and having a little fender bender.  The damage made her wince, but there wasn't anything she could do about it.

"OHHHHOWWWWW", she whined, feeling the pain of her hymen splitting, and, at the same time, the most wonderful stretching sensation, and the most wonderful warm, wet feeling in her horny pussy.

"AHHHHHHH" grunted Bobby, whose prick had begun to belch sperm, at exactly the same time she stuffed two inches of it in her pussy.  It was his copious spend that she was feeling.   

Bobby, as experienced as he was, fell prey to instinct, about the same time his penis told his brain what had happened.  About the time his brain was saying "You might want to pull that spurting thing out of your baby sister, pal," instinct was bunching the muscles in his abdomen, and sending the signal to his hands, which slid off her breasts to grip her hips, holding her in place while his abdominal muscles powered his penis further into her, where it happily finished spurting.

As it had been with Flo,  who intended to get fucked, the first time she did that with Bobby, the completion of his orgasm made his penis less firm immediately, which lessened the stretching in Linda's pussy.  Linda had NOT intended to get fucked, but her pussy, in the process of reporting the accident, also added that what had happened wasn't all that bad, and that there was probably little enough damage that the Police didn't need to be called to the scene.

Both of them just stopped, and she looked down.  She couldn't see his penis, which wasn't too odd, since she could tell it was still inside her.

"You just fucked me," she panted.

"I was just lying here," he said, his hands still gripping her hips.

"It's inside me right now," she breathed.  She suddenly realized there were muscles inside her she'd never known about.  She flexed them, and felt something pushing back.  She knew it was his penis, and it fascinated her.

"I think it is," said Bobby.

"I like this," she said.

"We shouldn't have done this," he cautioned.

"I'm on the pill," she said.   She leaned down and kissed him.  "And I like it.  Do it again."

"I can't just do it again," he said.

"It was too quick!" she whispered.  "I barely got to feel it."

"It wasn't supposed to happen, Linda," he insisted.

"Well it did, and it's too late, and I want you to do it again!"

After the argument was done, which, of course, the woman won, Linda learned how to taste him.  Then she learned what it was like to be pinned to the mattress by a man, whose "pin" was significantly larger than the kind she was used to, when making a dress with her mother.  She liked that too.  Tonight was turning out to be a red letter night, with her discovering all kinds of things she liked a lot.  The orgasms were MUCH more intense, and the feeling of hot skin pressing against her was MUCH more intense, and that beautiful, wonderful fullness was MUCH more fun than just having an orgasm.

Like all the others, though, the best part was when she saw his eyes flutter, and heard him moan, and knew that she was the one who had brought him to this place, where he was in such ecstasy, as his warmth spurted into her belly.

=======================================

The fifth of July dawned bright and cheerful, and the bright sun woke Felicity, who found herself draped over Chester, whose eyes were open, just staring at her.

"Good morning," she mumbled, aiming her mouth so that her morning breath wouldn't wash over his face.

"I love you," he said, his voice husky with age.  His hand went to mold against a firm breast.

"I know you do," she said, smiling.  "It's the reason I'm so happy.   I love you too."

"I know you do," he said softly.  "It's the reason I still feel like staying alive."

It wasn't until breakfast, which she always fixed him, giving the cook mornings off, that she brought up the subject of the reunion again.

"I told you," he said, his voice a little whiny, "I don't want to go off to Kansas City, and sleep in a strange bed, and have all those youngsters stare at me."

"I know," she said.  "Remember what you told me?  About hiring someone to act like he's you?"

"Yes," he said.  "You didn't think much of that, as I recall.  I also recall telling you your friends would be a lot more impressed by a strong young man, than an old geezer like me."

"Your memory is a lot better than people think," she said, smiling.  "I was at the party last night - the fireworks were divine, by the way.  You can be proud - anyway, I was there, with Millie, and she pointed out a young man that she says would be perfect for that."

"You told Millie about this?" asked Chester.

"She's my friend," said Felicity.  "She's discreet.  I wouldn't have told her if she wasn't."

"I hope you're right," said the old man.  "That would probably raise a lot of eyebrows, if folks found out about it."  He smiled at her as she served him oatmeal, with brown sugar on it.  "Who is he?" he asked.

"His first name is Bobby.  I can't remember his last name.  It's Darwin ... or Donald ... something that starts with a D.   He's a handyman, around town, apparently.  He did some work for Millie."

"And what is it that makes him so perfect to play the role of your husband?"

"Oh, she went on about how smart he is, and how much of a gentleman.  Apparently she was quite taken by him, though she says she didn't give in to temptation."

"He's handsome?"

"I suppose he's nice to look at," she hedged.  She was trying to be polite.  He was most definitely handsome.  She felt a twinge of guilt for thinking that, though.

"Repairman, you say?"

"Handyman is what she said.  He put in a brick walk for them."  Felicity watched her husband.   He was thinking.  She could tell.

"Have him come over here to fix something," said Chester.  "I want to meet him ... talk to him."

"All right, Darling," said Felicity.  "I'll call Millie and get his number."

=========================================

Bobby approached the mansion with a few doubts.   He could fix most things, even if he had to jury-rig them, so they'd work properly.  He didn't know if his aesthetic skill, though, was good enough to satisfy the likes of Chester Chumley.  True, it was Mrs. Chumley who had called him, and asked him to take a look at the porch swing which, she said, was sagging.  She was of the opinion that it might not be safe any more, and wanted him to see about making a new one.

His doubts increased, when he saw the place up close.  It was beautiful.  Everything about it was beautiful.  It was old, but had been well cared for.  The gardens bespoke a full time, professional gardener.  The crushed lava driveway didn't have a single weed in it anywhere.   Someone had paved the area in front of the house, with pink slabs of some kind of what looked like granite.  They were so closely spaced that nothing grew in the cracks either.

He saw the porch swing as soon as he walked up the steps, made of the same stone as the paving.   It was old, to be sure, but the chains it hung from were not rusted, like they'd be in town.  Someone had taken a wire brush to them and oiled them.   The swing itself was painted white and, other than a slat, missing from the backrest, and which might have been left out intentionally, as part of the pattern of the thing, he could see nothing whatsoever wrong with it.

He sat on it, gingerly.  Sometimes looks could be deceiving.  He didn't want to break the thing he'd come to fix.  It was rock solid.  He didn't feel any give in the wood, or the chains.   He got up and looked around.  Sometimes people had more than one porch swing.  Seeing nothing, he frowned, and pulled the old time rod that rang a chime inside the house.

He thought the woman who answered the door was a maid, because she was so young.  She was quite beautiful too, but that wasn't odd.  Rich men had beautiful women around them.  It was just a fact of life.   Bobby knew who Chester Chumley was, of course.   He'd toyed with the idea of trying to get on at the factory, when he was younger.   But they had only full time positions, and he was needed at the farm.   He knew Chester's first wife had died, and that he'd married a younger woman.  He'd even seen her a couple of times, from a distance.  In fact, she looked a lot like the woman who had answered the door.

"I'm Felicity Chumley," said the woman, her voice a high alto.  "You must be Robert Dalton."

"Please," said Bobby.  "Nobody has called me Robert since I was christened.  I go by Bobby."

"Such a young name, for a man," said the woman.  She was looking at  his face.

"It's just a name," he said.  "I'm used to it, that's all."   He went straight to the point.  "There's nothing wrong with the swing on the front porch.  Do you have another one, somewhere else?"

"No," said the woman, looking nervous for the first time.  "My husband would like to speak with you."

She turned and walked away.  She was wearing a silk blouse and Capri pants, which were not quite skin tight.  Her buttocks were fabulous ... round and firm, but with a jiggle that was enticing.   She had good legs too, as if she exercised a lot.   It was hard to tell her age, but she was a lot younger than the Mrs. Chumley he had expected.  When a seventy-something man married a younger woman, you expect him to marry a woman who is in her thirties of forties.  At least Bobby did.

She walked with grace too, not swinging her arms, like a man, or a woman in a hurry.  Her feet didn't quite step in front of each other, but perhaps only a few inches to one side.  It made her look like she was walking like some models walk.

She took him to a set of double doors that were eight feet tall, and made of oak.  They were gorgeous.  They were also well balanced and hung, because she didn't have to strain at all to move a door that had to weigh seventy or eighty pounds.  It swung open noiselessly and she stood to one side.

He understood that he was to enter the room.  It was a library.  He could see two walls crammed with books, through the open door.  It was also obvious that she wasn't going to announce, or introduce him, so he stepped into the room.  He smelled the rich odor of a cigar.

Chester Chumley was sitting in a chair, with a book open on his lap.   The cigar was in a crystal ash tray on a table by his arm, along with a round brandy snifter, half full of an amber liquid.  The old man looked up.

"You'll pardon an old man who doesn't get up to welcome his guest," he said, his voice raspy.

"Certainly," said Bobby.

"Sit down, sit down, boy," said the man, waving vaguely at two leather chairs across from him.  "Would you care for a cigar?  I get them from Cuba.  It's much more difficult since the damned President started his damned embargo."

"Thanks," said Bobby.  "I don't smoke."

"Some brandy, perhaps?" asked the man, lifting his snifter.

"I don't think so," said Bobby, easing into the chair.  It whooshed, as air left the cushion, and he sank into it deeply.  He looked at the thick looking amber in the glass the old man was holding.  It looked good.  "I had a sip of beer once, and didn't much like it.  I've never tried anything else."

"Did you look at the swing?" asked Chester.

"Yes sir," he said.  "There's nothing wrong with it."

"Doesn't need to be replaced?" asked the old man, his voice querulous.

"I couldn't make one as good as the one you've already got," said Bobby, wondering what was going on.

"That will be all, dear," said the man.  

Bobby looked, to see Felicity Chumley, standing in the doorway.  He hadn't known she'd stayed there.   She looked ambivalent, but then stepped back and closed the big door.  It clicked closed with barely a sound.

"I was a lucky man, to find her," said Chumley.  He had touched neither the cigar or brandy since Bobby came in, other than to hold the brandy up, when he offered Bobby some.  "She's a beautiful woman."

"Every man hopes to find a beautiful woman," said Bobby.  "You were, indeed, lucky, but I suspect there was more than luck involved."

"You think she's after my money too?" asked the old man.  "Everybody else does."

"I have no idea," said Bobby.  "I don't know her.  What I can tell you is that I've never heard of her kicking up her heels, or spending a lot of money frivolously.  If it was money she was after, I think she'd be tempted to do that, at least once in a while."

"Yes," mused the old man.  "I suppose you're right.  Most people wouldn't think about it that way."

"To be honest, sir," said Bobby.  "I've never really thought about it at all, until now.  About her, I mean.  I think I might have seen her twice in my life, and I know very little about her, or you, for that matter.  I must admit I'm curious about why you called me out here to fix a swing that isn't broken, though."

"Well," said Chester Chumley, finally picking up the brandy and taking the tiniest of sips, "let's just talk about that."

=========================================

Felicity went to the kitchen, while Chester talked to the young man.  Once she'd seen him up close, she was more nervous than ever.  He was gorgeous.  He had a strong jaw line, and the most devastating blue eyes, under that lock of hair that dangled on his forehead.   His work shirt fairly bulged with the muscles under it.  She sneaked a peek at his behind, which was also hard looking and compact.  He walked with a kind of animal stride, not at all like most people, who tiptoed around when Chester was involved.

Ramona was in the kitchen, getting lunch ready.

"I'm going to make some cookies, Ramona," said Felicity.  "I'll try not to get in your way."

"What's wrong?" asked the woman, who was in her forties, and cooked old fashioned home cooked meals, rather than the fancy stuff that they were teaching in cooking schools these days.

"What makes you think anything's wrong?" asked Felicity.  Because she had little contact with the outside world, she had gotten to know her staff quite well.  She was friends with most of them, and they all knew it.  None of them tried to take advantage.  They had great jobs, with great pay.  

"You always make cookies when you're upset about something," said the cook.

"Not every single time," objected Felicity.  "I made cookies for Valentines day, and I wasn't upset about anything!"

"I stand corrected," said Ramona. "So, what are you worried about?"

Felicity shot her a look, and then her shoulders slumped.

"It's this High School reunion that's coming up.  Chester won't go with me.  He says I'd be embarrassed."

"Most women your age would be," said Ramona.

"You know me better than that," said Felicity.

"I do," said the woman.  "It would still be hard, even for you.  He's a sweet man, but he's as old as dirt."

"Ramona!" said Felicity, sounding shocked.

"You hadn't noticed that yet?" asked the cook, grinning.

"He says I should take a younger man ... and pretend he's my husband."  Felicity frowned.

"That sounds interesting," said Ramona, one eyebrow rising.

"It's ridiculous," said Felicity.

"Of course it is," said Ramona.  "He's just being the sweet old man he is, thinking of you, more than himself."

"I won't do it!" said Felicity, mashing dough through her fingers.

"You will if he wants you to," said the cook.

"No I won't!" said Felicity, pouting.

"You know you saved his life," said the cook, calmly.  "I was here when she died.  I know what he was like.  I expected him to follow her within a week ... a month at the most."

Felicity stopped and turned to look at the woman.

"Then you came along," said Ramona.  "I'm not saying he turned around right away, or anything," she said.  "But you kept him going.  He used to complain that his new secretary was burying him in paperwork.  He said it wasn't proper ... that he couldn't mourn properly."

"I didn't know what else to do," said Felicity, softly.

"Oh, he complained, but I knew he didn't mean it," said Ramona.  "He mourned.  But he had something else to do besides that, and that's what made the difference."

"Well, the company had to go on functioning," said Felicity.

"Yes, and he was well aware that it was you who was making that happen.  He complained about you, but he said you had spunk.  He complained that you made him feel guilty ... making decisions that he should have made himself.  He was impressed with what you thought should happen, though.  That was plain too."

"I didn't mean for him to burden you," said the young wife, who had taken over the mansion too, when she arrived.

"Oh, I didn't mind.  I was glad he was taking an interest in things, even if it was to pretend to complain.  He talked about you more and more as time went on.  I think he was having a little fun, watching you manhandle all those other folks."

"You make me sound like a harridan," said Felicity.

"I wasn't too sure about you, at first," said the cook.  "But I trust Mister Chumley's judgement.  He hasn't been wrong about a person very often.  When he started talking about bringing you home, I got a little nervous."

"When was that?" asked Felicity.

"It was a year before he asked you to marry him," said the woman.

"Really?"  Felicity was astonished.  He'd never showed any interest in her, other than to respond to her requests, and give her occasional instructions.  She'd thought he was just dragging himself through each day.

"Oh yes," said Ramona, stirring a pot on the stove.  "It was plain he was taken with you.   He said it was silly ... a man his age ... thinking about a woman yours.   When he decided to sell out, he was worried about what would happen to you, though.  He worried about that for six months before he made his decision."

"I thought he'd just gotten a wild hair," said Felicity.  "I wasn't sure he was thinking straight at all."

"Nope," said Ramona, checking something that smelled delicious in the oven.  "He chewed that bone for six months.  That's when I knew things were going to be better.   He really loves you."

"I love him too!" said Felicity.

"We all know that," said Ramona.  "He does too.  I think that's what he's most thankful about.   You know, one time, he told me no man could be that lucky twice?"

Felicity felt an upwelling of emotion, and her eyes got misty.

"That's the whole point," she said.  "I can't just go off with some stranger and pretend to be married to him.  Especially not the man he's talking to!"

"He's talking to a candidate?" asked Ramona.  "I heard the door chime a while back."

"Yes!" said the young wife.  "And he's gorgeous!"

"Ahhh," said Ramona, nodding understandingly.  

"I can't go off and be tempted with a man like that," moaned Felicity.

"Do you think Mr. Chumley isn't aware that you're a healthy young woman, with all the normal needs a young woman has?"  The cook looked at her cooking, instead of her mistress.

"I chose to be with Chester!" said Felicity firmly.  "He's my husband.  I don't want another man."

"All I'm saying is that Mr. Chumley loves you.  You've made him very happy, and it doesn't surprise me that he wants you to be happy too."

"I AM happy!" insisted Felicity.

"It wouldn't surprise me if he wanted you to be even happier," said the cook. 

"That's just ridiculous!" moaned Felicity.  "People dont do that kind of thing."

"Most people arent in the same kind of circumstances you are," said Ramona.

"Whose side are you on?" wailed the frustrated young woman.

"Yours," said the cook firmly.  "You and Mr. Chumleys"

"What does that mean?" moaned Felicity.

"It means that if doing this would make Mr. Chumley happy, Im all for it," said the servant.  "and if it means you could be happier too, then Im extra all for it."

"This man ... if I do it, I mean ... hes just supposed to be my escort ... to play a role," said Felicity firmly.  "Im not going to get involved in some adulterous affair, here!  I dont see how that would make me any happier."

"Maybe you should ask Mr. Chumley what he has in mind," said Ramona, with the wisdom of age.   "I know him ... I know how he thinks.  Convention isnt all that important to him when he really wants something."

"Ill just DO that!" said Felicity.  "In fact, Ill do it right NOW!  This has already gone farther than I think it should."  She started out of the kitchen, her stride long.

"Maam!" called Ramona, about to remind her that her hands were covered in dough, and  there was flour on her cheek.  Felicity was already out of the door, though, and the cook just sighed.  Youth!  How impulsive ... how passionate ... how blind.

Chapter Four

As it turned out, as Felicity barged into the library, Chester was just showing Bobby out.  She pulled the door open and jumped back, when she was confronted with two men, standing there.

"I see youve been making cookies again," said Chester, smiling at her.

She looked at her hands, and flushed deep red.  "I need to talk to you," she said.  "about this ..." she waved a doughy hand at Bobby.  "about him ..."

"Excellent!" said Chester.  "I need to talk to you too.  Ive hired Mister Dalton here to escort you to your class reunion."

Her flush drained away.  She looked at the man standing with her husband.  He was five inches taller, looked a foot broader in the chest, and was smiling at her.  That smile, and his blue eyes, and that damned cute lock of hair made her feel like she was seventeen again.

"I dont want to go," she rasped.

Chester turned to Bobby and held out his hand.

"Thank you, sir, for your candid answers to my questions.  I appreciate a man who is honest.  Well be in touch, after I discuss this further with my wife."

Bobby shook his hand firmly.  "I remember the way out," he said.

Felicity watched as he started toward her, making her move to get out of his way.

"Maam," he said, that smile still on his face.

She watched him move away from her too, feeling the blush begin to re-stain her face.  Then she turned to face her husband, who reached for her hand, and drew her into the library.

=====================================

"Please dont make me do this," moaned Felicity.  She was sitting on Chesters lap, where he had pulled her.

"I wont make you do anything you dont want to do," said Chester, cupping one of her breasts.

"Thank you," she sighed.

"But I want you to go to the reunion, and I want that young man to take you."

"But why?" she moaned.

"Dont try to fool an old man," he said, squeezing her firm breast.  "I know you found him attractive."

"Thats the whole point!" she moaned.  "I dont want to be tempted like that."  She was remembering that smile, and those blue eyes, and that troublesome lock of hair that she had wanted to brush back into place.

"Sweet, sweet Felicity," said the old man, unbuttoning her blouse.  She wore front release bras, just for him, and he was adept at getting them undone.  The bra sprang apart to reveal her pink nipples.  His hand went to fondle a naked breast.  The nipple was already stiff.  "I know what it has been like for you, these last four years.  He pinched the nipple slightly, and she sucked in a breath.

"I love you," she moaned, leaning down to kiss him.  

He let her ... kissed her back, but then spoke again when she was finished.

"I know you do," he said.  "And I love you too.  I want you to be able to experience the excitement of being with a younger man."

"Not like this!" she whined, as he mauled her nipple.

"Not unless you want to," he said.  He pulled her toward him and sucked at the nipple while she moaned.   after giving it a good suck, he went on.  "But this is about all I can do for you, my darling.  We both know that.  It would make me very happy if I knew you were experiencing something more ... passionate, lets say."

"But I dont WANT another man!" she moaned.  "I want YOU!  Im happy when you make love to me."

"That is precisely why I love you so much," he said softly.  "but you deserve to be deliriously happy when you make love.  Can you honestly look me in the eye, and say I make you deliriously happy in bed?"

"Yes," she said immediately, looking at his mouth.

He put a finger under her chin and lifted.  Slowly, her eyes came up to his.  She flinched, slightly.

"Be truthful, my sweet," he said.  "I know what a young woman deserves ... needs.  I was young once.  What I gave Virginia ... back then ... is so much more than I can give you now.  You know that."

"You want me to go off and have an affair with a stranger?" she whined, this time looking in his eyes.  "I cant do that."

"Which is why I hired him for the two weeks between now, and the reunion," said the old man.  "He is to spend time with you.  You need to get to know him, so that, when you present him as your husband, it will be believable.  You need to know where hes from ... what hes like ... how he thinks.  Hes a delightful young man, Felicity.  I like him a lot."

"Why?" she asked, curious.

"I asked him questions," said Chester.  "We talked.  I was impressed with his answers.  I think he is a man of character."

"Did you tell him to ... have sex with me?" she said, her voice high.

"Of course not," said Chester, chuckling.  "That all depends on you, not me."

"I wont have sex with him!" said Felicity firmly.

"If that is what you want, then you wont," said her husband.  "If you change your mind, I want you to know that I love you, and will always be here for you."

"Thats just insane!" said Felicity.  "I cant make love with a man I dont love!  If I did that ... with him, I mean ... it would mean I fell in love with him.  I love YOU.  I dont want to fall in love with anybody else."

"I will not be here, forever," said Chester.  "You know that too.  You need to be ready to find another love, when I am gone.  I will not go to my rest ... join Virginia again ... knowing you plan to stay a widow only."

"But that will be years from now," said Felicity, hope in her voice.  "I can deal with that then.  Dont make me do something like that now!"

"Im not making you do anything," said Chester.  "Lets just say I want you to keep in practice.  How long has it been since youve had a man other than me?"

"You know its been since school," said Felicity.  "I told you that, when we got married."

"Seven years, without the kind of passion that keeps you young," said Chester, shaking his head.  "Its too long, my darling.   You dont have to do anything with this man, but I want you to feel that passion, and I think this young fellow has what it takes to bring that out in you."

"He was just supposed to escort me,"  wailed Felicity.

"And if thats all that happens, Ill be happy too," said Chester.  "At least youll have had some time with a man your own age.  I think you need that.  Please do this for an old man who loves you."

Felicity didnt know what to think.  She had conflicting emotions already, and didnt like that.  She liked to be sure about things.  She liked to be in charge of things, and make sure they went the way they were supposed to.  Nothing in her life, though, had helped prepare her for managing something like this.

"Please?" asked the man she loved.

"For you," she said softly.  "Only for you."

"Thats my girl," he sighed.  "Now, come let Daddy make you feel good."

Ten minutes later, with Chesters finger in her pussy, and his mouth on her nipples, Felicity felt both better ... and worse.  She felt better, because she needed an orgasm, to calm her down.

She felt worse, because while she was having it, with her eyes tightly closed, she was seeing blue eyes, and a forelock that wouldnt stay where it belonged.

====================================

While Felicity was having her orgasm, Bobby was thinking about the interview.  It was clear, now, that thats why hed been called there ... for an interview.

Chester Chumley seemed to know a lot about him.   In fact, Chester knew more about him than was comfortable.   Chester had seemed to know about Prudence, and Jill, and Christy, for starters.  Where he got his information was a mystery, and, while he was circumspect, he asked Bobby outright if he had done work for those women.

Bobby hadnt lied about anything.  At the same time, he hadnt admitted anything other than performing repair jobs for all the women Chester had eventually named.   After talking about those three, he had then asked about Martha too.  He hadnt mentioned Tilly, or Sherry, but Bobby got the idea he just stopped when he had the kind of information that hed wanted.

Chester had asked some very personal questions about his upbringing too, somehow getting Bobby to admit that Joe had been his father figure.

"Met him once," said Chester, when Bobby finally gave name to the man he was talking about.  "He hired on at the plant for a while, in maintenance.  Did good work - could fix anything made by man -  but wasnt the kind to put down roots.  He was a good man, though.  A bit unconventional, Id say ... but a good man."

Bobby had simply agreed, wondering what was going on here.

Then Chester got around to talking about the reunion, and hiring Bobby to impersonate ... him, basically.   Bobby had almost goggled at the man, as he casually said Bobby would be required to act like Felicitys husband ... convincingly.  That was the particular word he had used ... "convincingly".

Bobby had questioned him on that.

"What, exactly would I be required to do ... convincingly?" hes asked.

"She will be your guide on that matter," said the old man, as if it were nothing of importance.   "You just be there to see to her needs, and convince those young people shes trying to impress that she caught herself a good man."

"That might get ... awkward," said Bobby.

"I can see how it might," said the old man, looking Bobby right in the eye.

Bobby had expressed an opinion that he was better at fixing things, than playacting, which was when he was offered two thousand dollars to spend as much of the next two weeks with her, getting to know her, and letting her get to know him, as she was comfortable with.

"If, when its time to go, you dont think you can do it, then Ill understand," said Chester.  "Ill have to depend on you to tell me if you think you can pull it off."   He had squinted at Bobby.  "Of course, the fee will be the same, regardless.  I will have used your time, and kept you away from other ... work."   

He had basically offered to pay Bobby two thousand dollars for spending a little time with Felicity, and which might come to nothing at all, in terms of the ultimate objective, convincing a bunch of people they were married.

"Youre sure you want to do this?" asked Bobby.

"Im sure," said the man."

Bobby had stood, then, and said:  "Have her call me when shes ready to start."

Bobby wasnt at all sure shed call him at all.  If she didnt, that was fine.  Hed just keep working, if she didnt.  He wondered at why the old man would want something like this.  It was obvious that he cared deeply for his wife, and, from the looks of it, his wife cared deeply for him too.  To do this must mean the old man wanted her to have something he couldnt give her.   

Just about all that could be was sex.  He had everything else in the world, and, through her marriage to him, she did too.

Bobby grinned and shook his head.  It would be interesting ... if it happened.

======================================

Bobby went into his mother's bedroom.  She was lying on her side.

"Hey," he said.

"I don't like you very much right now," she moaned.  "You did this to me.  I just know it was you.  My back hurts."   

He went around and started massaging her back, pushing his fist into it as she moaned her appreciation.

"It won't be long now," he said, rubbing her shoulders for a while, and then going back to her back.

"He moves around so much!" she sighed.  "It's like he's running around in circles."

"He?"   

"I know it's a boy," she said.  "It feels like you felt ... not like with the girls.   He's going to come out looking just like you.  I know it."

"I hope so," he said, kissing her neck.

"Go away!" she said, petulantly.  "That's what got me like this in the first place."

"Not quite," he laughed.  "I could show you how you got that way, but I don't think you'd enjoy it so much right now."

She struggled to roll over, and faced him.

"We can't do this again," she said softly.  "I'm getting too old for this."

"Mamma," he said back to her, touching her cheek.  "I'm going to help you change his diapers, and suck the milk he doesn't want, and, as soon as you're able, I'm going to make sweet love to you.  I'm going to do that until you're at least eighty."

"Ohhhh," she moaned, tears of love welling up in her eyes.  "How can I feel this way about my own son?"

"You just love me," he said.  "Like I love you."  He stroked down to her breast.  "You want me to induce labor?  I've heard that an orgasm can do that, when you're this far along."

"Go away, you horrid man!" she said, but there was no vitriol in her voice.  

"I got a new job," he said, changing the subject.

"Who's the poor helpless woman this time?" asked his mother, feeling sorry for herself.

"Felicity Chumley," he said quietly.

She jerked, and her eyes opened wide.

"No!  Honey ... not her!"

"Her husband hired me to take her to her High School reunion.  He's paying me two thousand dollars for two weeks."

"Chester Chumley hired you?!" she gasped.   "Why?"

"I'm supposed to convince all her young friends that I'm her husband."

"Ohhh, no, baby, not her.  This can come to no good, Bobby."

"He seems to know what I've been up to," said Bobby.  "He interviewed me for an hour before he offered me the job.   He mentioned some of my previous ... customers."   He smiled.  "Two thousand dollars would go a long way toward a newer truck."

"That's your money," Mirriam objected.

"That's our money," he corrected her.

He kissed her, and she was able to ignore the ache in her back for a few minutes.   He stroked her breast, and she felt the pain of her milk letting down.  She pushed him away.

"Now look what you did!" she moaned, as a dark stain appeared on the front of the oversized T shirt she was wearing.  It clung to her swollen belly, showing her protruding belly button.  "What am I going to do now?"

He showed her what could be done about that, as she halfheartedly tried to stop him, until the exquisite pain/pleasure of him feeding at her breasts made her relax.  The pain in her back vanished, and she felt the glow of being comfortable.   He kept going long after her breasts were empty, until she felt the tingles that she wasn't prepared to deal with, and pushed him back.

"I'm not ready to go into labor just yet, Mister," she said.  "Go away."

He started for the door.

"Thank you," she said.

"My pleasure," he said, smiling at her.  "If you get uncomfortable again, though, you may have to call Ted.  I'm supposed to spend all my time with my new wife."

"Be careful," she moaned.

"You know me, Mamma," he said, and left.

"That's what I'm worried about," she muttered, turning back on her side.

=====================================

Bobby's first meeting with Felicity didn't start out well at all.   When he arrived, a servant met him at the door, rolled her eyes, and bade him follow her.   

"I'm Annie," she whispered.

"Nice to meet you, Annie," said Bobby.  

Felicity was dressed formally, in a gown, and with her hair done up.  She looked good.   The dining room table was set ... with her at one end, him at the other ... and fourteen feet of table between them.   Another servant, this one male, seated her, and then came to seat him as well.

"Good luck," he whispered, as Bobby sat down. 

Bobby turned to look at him.  "Why aren't you doing this?" he asked.

The man looked horrified, and backed away.

"What are you talking about down there?" demanded Felicity.  

"I was just saying hello," said Bobby.

"You don't address servants in that way!" she snapped.  "If you're going to try to convince anyone that you have breeding, you're going to have to do much better than that."

"Yes, Darling," he sang out.

"Don't you dare call me that!" she snapped back.

"Of course, Dear," he said, smiling.

Her chair made a racket as it scraped back, going an extra foot from the energy she shoved it back with.  She stalked down to his end of the table, no longer walking like a lady.  She put her face close to his.

"I think this is a stupid idea," she said, through teeth that were firmly closed.  "I don't like you, and I'll thank you not to use terms of endearment to me."

"You don't have to like me ... Sweetheart," he said calmly.  "All you have to do is ACT like you like me.  And you and I both know, Pumpkin, that people will expect terms of endearment to be exchanged between a husband and wife."  He smiled.  "Honey," he added.   

Her face went almost purple with rage, and she stood back up, breathing deeply.  Bobby watched, shamelessly, as her breasts moved under the gown.  Her mouth opened and closed several times and she sputtered.  Finally she settled on something to say.

"I'm only doing this for him!" she snarled.

"So am I," said Bobby, gently.

She looked like he'd slapped her.  Then she calmed herself, visibly, and marched back down to the end of the table.   She rang a tiny silver bell, and they were served ... seven courses.   The meal was excellent, and he made a note to find the chef and tell him so.  He used all the right utensils, and wiped his lips before and after every sip of water, like he'd been taught to do by his mother, when he was fifteen.  She'd told him he might never need the knowledge of how to formally dine, but that it was better to know it and not need it, than to need it and not know it.  He also made a note to himself to kiss his mother when he got home.

Felicity was clearly nonplussed that he could behave at the table.  He tried to carry on light chatter, but she wouldn't return his comments.  When the sherbet was served, he stood, crooked a finger at Annie, who was holding his crystal goblet, full of the pink stuff, and picked up his chair.  He walked down the table and sat his chair next to Felicity and seated himself.  Putting his napkin back on his lap, he leaned back, to let Annie know she could serve him now.   The hand holding his sherbet was shaking a little, as she set it down.   If Felicity would have frowned any harder at him, her eyes might have looked Oriental.

"What are you doing?" she asked tightly.

"Well," he said, causally, taking a spoon full of sherbet.  "You seem to think that, when we get to your reunion, the dinners will be formal, and served on fine china.  I kind of doubt that, myself," he said.  He put the sherbet in his mouth and, when she opened her mouth speak, he held up his index finger, point the spoon at her.  He tasted, swallowed, wiped his lips with the napkin, and went on.  "You also don't seem to think there will be any light conversation, which I also doubt.   He made his face wrinkle as he seemed to think of something.  "Unless," he said, "You went to some fancy boarding school, where they acted like you've been acting.  If that's the case, I'm sure I'm wrong."

She stiffened even more, if that was possible.

"I'll have you know I went to public schools all my life!" she snapped.

"And lunch was like this?" he asked.

She abandoned her sherbet by slamming her spoon down on the cherry tabletop, and Bobby winced at the thwack of the utensil hitting the hard wood.  There would be a mark left, and that was too bad.  It was a beautiful table.   He could tell she intended to get up, and he moved smoothly from his chair to stand behind hers, pulling it as she moved it.

"Allow me, Dear," he said, solicitously.

Fuming, she stalked to the parlor, where she sat on the edge of an  upholstered high-backed chair.  She sat ramrod stiff, and held herself like a queen.   There was another chair angled toward hers, with a table between them.   Apparently this was where she intended to ... chat.

"Be right back," he said.

He went off toward the doorway he'd seen Annie coming from, when she served them, and found his way to the kitchen.  Annie and an older woman were in there. The older woman had on an apron that was stained with the sauce their brazed beef had been soaked in.

Annie's eyes were round, as he came up to the counter, across from them.

"Might I assume you are the chef?" he asked the older woman.

She blinked at him, and her eyes seemed to wander around his upper body until she settled them on his face again. 

"I've never been called a chef," she said.

"Well you should be," said Bobby. "I've never had better.  My compliments."

She smiled.  

"Why THANK you," she said, beaming.  "Mrs. Chumley said it needed to be good, so I tried to make sure it was."

"You are NOT to approach the staff in this house, Mister Denton!" came the rasping voice of Felicity Chumley, from the doorway behind him.  "Is that clear?"

Bobby winked at both of the staff he was facing, and then turned.

"But Darling, don't I need to know how to interact with the help?  How will I ever convince your friends that I have breeding, if I can't learn these kinds of things?"  He smiled.  "And, just for the record, my name is Dalton ... not Denton."

She went pale, as the blood drained from her face.   The servants all knew what was happening, of course.  They hadn't been told, formally, but they knew.  She was aware of that.  But his bald-faced approach was too much!  She turned and fled to the bedroom, where Chester had said he'd be taking a nap.

Bobby turned back to the women.

"Sorry," he said, his face wry.  "I hope I didn't get you in trouble."

"Oh, we'll survive," said the cook.  "I'm Ramona, by the way.  Just slip me your wants, next time you're coming over, and I'll be happy to serve you some real food."

"Thanks," he said.  "If there's a next time."

He went back to sit in the parlor, and wait.

Chapter Five

Chester wasn't in the bedroom.  In fact, she couldn't find him anywhere.  She felt helpless.  As maddening as he was - imagine the nerve of the man, calling her 'darling' and correcting her in front of the servants! - she had to admit that he was a strong man.  She had hoped he'd just give up and go home, when she made it clear she didn't like him.   She'd been fine, as long as he was clear down the table from her.  But, both when she'd gone to him, and when he'd come to her, those blue eyes seemed to be pools of endlessly deep water, that she could drown in, if she wasn't careful.  She was trying to hate him, but it was hard!

She stormed through the house, looking for her husband, with no success.  And, to make things worse, the servants all seemed to have vanished into thin air.   She turned a corner and saw him sitting in the parlor.  He'd worn the same clothes as before ... a work shirt and jeans, with boots.  He looked at home in them, like they belonged on him.  They wouldn't do for the reunion, of course.  She'd have to dress him up a bit for that.  She felt a sinking sensation as she realized that would mean she'd have to go shopping with him ... probably to Wichita, since she certainly couldn't take him anyplace around here, where people knew her.  That would mean riding in the car with him ... all that way ... both there and back.

She didn't want to feel like she felt already, and, with dismay, she somehow knew that it could only get worse.   He had treated her with respect, mostly.  It would have helped if he'd have leered at her, or been coarse.  But he wasn't.   And he was sitting there, costing them money, while she ran around like a chicken with its head cut off.

Squaring her shoulders, she took the first tentative steps toward the parlor.

=====================================

She sat down and looked at his shoulder, instead of his eyes.  That helped a little bit.

"Look," he said, before she could speak.  She didn't know what to say anyway, so she just listened.  "it's obvious you aren't interested in doing this.  I have nothing to lose, because Mr. Chumley said he'd pay me even if it didn't work out."

She looked at his eyes then, frowning.  Chester hadn't told her that.

"I'm not going to hold him to that," said Bobby.  "I'm not interested in torturing any woman, not the least you.  I've been here about an hour and a half, and was here an hour last time.  How about you just pay me twelve dollars and fifty cents for my time, and we'll call it even.  I'll go back to work, and you can relax."

She pulled her eyes away from his with an effort.  She had more conflicting feelings.  He was being a gentleman about it, that was plain.  And he wasn't gouging Chester either, when he could, technically, if he wanted to.  He had given her a way out of this horrible situation.  All she had to do was give him twelve-fifty.

She frowned.  Was that all she was worth?  Twelve and a half dollars?  She did some calculations in her mind.  She was good at math.  At a thousand dollars a week, for say, fifty-six hours - that would be seven eight hour days - he would be making almost eighteen dollars an hour.  Of course, the three days and two nights they'd be going to the reunion would be twenty-four hour days, so that would be only about six or seven dollars an hour then.   And he was willing to settle for five dollars an hour to endure her presence.

"Well?" he said, interrupting her flow of thought.

"Hush," she said.  "I'm thinking."

She didn't look at him.  That was too dangerous.  He was too pretty, with those eyes, and that smile, and that hair.  Her eyes went to his hair against her wishes.  He'd need a haircut.  For what he did every day, this was fine ... delicious, in fact ... but not if he were her husband.  She frowned.  How could she think about him as her husband?  She should just give him the money and be rid of him.

She found herself on her feet, ready to go get her purse and pay him, when she thought about Chester.  He wanted her to do this.  That seemed so strange to her.  She loved him.  She didn't need a young man to feel passionate.  Some place in her mind asked the question:  "Why does he bother you so much, then?  Why are you so afraid of him?"   

"Because he's gorgeous!" she answered in her mind.  "He's strong, and tall, and I know it would feel so good to be in his arms!"

"Isn't that what Chester wants for you?" asked the part of her mind she wished would go away.

"Yes, but ...  what if I can't resist him?"

"Does Chester WANT you to resist him?"

"No, but ... it's not RIGHT!"

"Chester seems to think so."

She closed her eyes and put her fists in them, ruining her makeup, as tears came.  She didn't know what to do!  A sob escaped her throat, and she felt shame, crying in front of this stranger.

"Hey," came his soft voice from right in front of her.  "Don't cry.  I didn't mean to hurt your feelings.  I didn't know you were that disgusted by all this."  

She took her hands away and looked at him.  This was OK, because she was looking through tears, and  he looked all wavery.  He had something white in his hand, and he pressed it to her left eye.

"Don't worry," he said.  "I'll go away and you'll never have to see me again, OK?  I don't want you to cry, Felicity."

She stood, helplessly as he dabbed at her eyes.  Finally her hands came up to take the handkerchief from him, and she touched his hand.  Her name sounded so strange on his lips.   As her eyes cleared, they were captured again by his.  There was concern in them.  He actually cared how she felt!   With an agonized sob, she fell against him, her arms going around his neck, as she sobbed, heart breaking heaves wracking her body.  His arms came around her, holding her.   He WAS strong.  His arms felt like steel around her.  All he did was hold her, and pat her back.

She got herself under control.  She didn't have to push him away.  He sensed, somehow, when she was strong enough to stand on her own.

"I don't want to be ... intimate ... with you," she whimpered.

"Then we won't be intimate," he said.  "That's not a problem.  I'm not here to make you do anything.  If I can help, that's good, but I don't want to make you unhappy.  This isn't worth that, to either of us.  It's just play acting ... that's all."

"Just play acting?" she said, the whimper still in her voice.

"That's all," he said.  "You tell me how to act, and that's what I'll do. If I think you're wrong, we'll talk about it.  We'll just be two actors, performing a little play, for your friends, OK?"

"You're being very decent about this," she moaned.

"No I'm not," he said.  "I didn't come here intending to try to take you away from Mr. Chumley, or anything like that.  I just don't know what you want.  If you want me to leave, I will.   If you want me to stay, I'll do that too.  If you want me to bark like a dog, we'll have a little spat, while we work that out."

She couldn't help but giggle, hiccuping as she reacted to his goofy comment.   He really was nice.  Part of her brain pointed that out.  "He's gorgeous AND nice!  Danger, Danger!"   But he'd said she was in control, and that made her feel better.  Chester had said the same thing.  She was in control.   It would be all right, because SHE was in control.

"We need to get you some clothes ... and a haircut," she said.

"Clothes and a haircut," he said firmly.  "When?  Today?"

"I'm worn out from all this right now," she said.  "Now about tomorrow?  We'll go over to Wichita and go shopping."

"What time do you want me here?" he asked, his voice businesslike.

"Eight?" she said, not sure if that was too early for him.

"Eight it is," he said.  "Your car or mine?"

"Mine," she said, laughing.  "Yours looks like it might break down at any minute."

"Awwww," he moaned.  "And I was all ready to stop out in the middle of nowhere, and tell you I was out of gas."  He looked positively sad, but she knew he was teasing her.  That was OK.  She'd acted horribly toward him today, and she knew it.   He was flirting with her too, she realized.   She couldn't believe how good that felt.  There was the dim murmur of "Danger, Danger!" in her mind, but she pushed it away again.  She was in charge!  Everything would be fine.

==================================

The next day went better, depending on how you looked at it.

Felicity answered the door herself, in a pair of Bermuda shorts and a cotton top.  Her hair was pulled back and held with combs and clips.  Sandals completed her outfit.  She looked critically at Bobby, who, as usual, was in jeans, and a faded blue work shirt.  This time, though, he was wearing tennis shoes.  Felicity glanced at his face, but nothing more.

"Ready?" she asked.

"Ready!" he announced.

They took her car, which was a 1971 Mercedes 280 SL convertible.  It was beige, with a chocolate interior, and, probably, a chocolate top under the boot, which was covering the folded down roof.  Bobby felt like he was soiling it when he got in.

She drove with skill that said she knew how to handle the engine, which had a throaty purr, and let the passengers know it was powerful.   He wondered if she'd chosen it because the wind noise would make it difficult to chat.   He found out differently when, at seventy-five miles an hour, he had no trouble hearing her.

She didn't say much, in the beginning, so he started drawing her out, asking her about Kansas City, and the place she lived when she went to the school they would be going to.  She described it in some detail, and talked about the swimming pool she had spent hours each day at.  It was built among a group of caves, and the caves were used as dressing rooms.  She talked about the school too, and the pep club and her cheerleading.  They were "The Indians", she said, and they had good teams all the years she went there.

"Any chance you'll be running into any old boyfriends?" he asked.

She shrugged.  There had been four or five, none serious.  The squad had taken most of her extra curricular time.  In her last year she'd worked at a little corner store, tending the counter part time.

It sounded like an ordinary life, for a girl who would end up marrying a millionaire, and he said so.  She darted a glance at him, her eyes invisible behind sunglasses.

"I didn't marry him for his money," she said.

"I didn't say you did," he answered.

"People think so," she said.

"People are stupid sometimes," he observed.

"I love him," she said.

"I can tell ... and he loves you too."

She looked over at him long enough that he reached out to push the wheel gently to the left.  They were about on the shoulder.  She looked back at the front.

"He does love me," she said.

"It's obvious," said Bobby.  "He grilled me up one side and down the other before offering me the job.  He wasn't about to just send you off with some guy, if he wasn't sure you'd be treated well."

"You could have lied," she said, feeling guilty immediately for saying it.  She forced herself to go on.  "You could have told him what he wanted to hear ... to make him trust you."

"I had no idea what he wanted with me until he was done," said Bobby.   "I thought he was just making sure that he wasn't letting a nere-do-well into his house.  How was I supposed to know he was going to entrust his wife to me?"

She felt even worse then, and drove quietly for a while.

"Why do I make you so nervous?" he asked.

She bit her lip.   She couldn't tell him the truth - that he was so gorgeous she wanted to throw herself at him.   She frowned, as she admitted that to herself, and jerked her conscious mind back into control.

"You've heard about some of the others," he said, misinterpreting both her silence and her frown.  "Haven't you?"

"Others?"  Her curiosity was piqued.

"Oh, boy," he sighed.  "I just blew it."

"What others?  Have you done this before?"  She looked over at him, but he was looking at a passing field.

"Not like this," he said, still looking away.

"What are you talking about?" she asked.   "Tell me!"

He looked back at her.  "You might not like what you hear," he said.  "Your husband seemed to know about it.  That's why I thought you might too."

"WHAT OTHERS?" she yelled.

"Calm down," he said.  "I'll tell you."

He waited until she got agitated and then started.

"There have been some women ... women I worked for.  Some of them had problems.  They needed ... help with things."

"Help?" she asked.  "With what?"

"Emotional help," he said.  "They were worn out, or neglected, or just hopeless ... whatever you want to call it.  They didn't have husbands who loved them, like you.  Some of them didn't have husbands at all."

"You're a therapist?" she asked, her voice rising.

"I guess you might say that," he said.  "I don't have any training.  I just sense what a woman needs.  If I can, I give it to her."

Felicity felt flip flops in her stomach.

"Sex?" she asked.  "Did you give them sex?"

"Some of them," said Bobby.  "Not all.  Just some."

Felicity remembered the way Millie had mooned over this man.

"Did you have sex with Millie Vaughn?" she asked, her voice rising even higher.

"I'll answer that question," said Bobby.  But, you have to understand that I will not answer any further questions about individual people.  They deserve their privacy, and I intend to honor that."

She looked at him again, her mind grappling with what he'd said.  He went out and had sex with women, to make them feel better, but he wouldn't brag about it.   He wasn't like any other man she'd ever known.  That was for sure.

"No," he said.

She was confused by his interruption of her thought process.

"No what?" she asked.

"Millie didn't need me.  Not for that."

"Oh," said Felicity, feeling better for some reason.  The thought that this man might have made Millie feel better ... in that way ... made her want to ...    She frowned.  She had been about to be jealous!  No ... she WAS jealous ... before she found out she didn't need to be, anyway.  She felt a tremor in her arms.   She couldn't be jealous like that.  That would mean she wanted ...   She stopped that thought.  No!  She did NOT want that.   She tried to think about what his life might be like, being with women ... like that.

"Don't the husbands want to kill you?" she asked.  "You can't keep something like that secret.  It just doesn't work."

"Actually, sometimes, you can," he said, easily.   "But most of the men found out, one way or another."

"And they didn't come looking for you?" she asked.

"One of them basically approved it, after the fact," he said.  "It was a very unique situation.  I confronted another one."

"You told him yourself?!" she gasped.

"He was being a prick."  He looked away.  "Sorry.  Sometimes I get a little emotional about things.  He was being a poor excuse for a husband, and I told him, to get him to get his act together.  He needed to make big changes in his life, or he was going to lose her."

"You make love to women ... and CARE if they want to leave their husbands?"  She was flabbergasted.

"You don't understand," he said.  "These are rare and different circumstances.  She loved  him.  She wanted him.  But he ignored her.  She was frustrated, and dying for some attention, so I gave her some.  But what she really wanted was her husband back.  So ... I got him back for her."

"How in the world did you do that?" she asked, still stunned.

"I'll tell you, but you might not like that answer either," he said.

She waited, and he finally spoke.

"I told him I'd kill him if he didn't straighten up."

She made it to the shoulder safely, but only barely.  She slid the last six feet on the gravel and grass beside the road.  She almost got out of the car and ran, but he was just sitting there, looking straight ahead.   He looked so normal, sitting there.  He didn't look like the kind of man who would do something like that at all.

"If it's any comfort," he said softly.  "I don't think I'd have been able to do it.  I had to convince him I would, though.   It worked.  I hope I never have to do anything like that again."  He looked over at her.  "I'm not dangerous.  I wouldn't hurt a fly if I could help it."   He barked a laugh.  "Well, maybe a fly.  They drive me crazy."

=================================

They got into town, before she spoke again.

"Why did you tell me that?" she asked.

"You wanted to know," he said.

She thought about that for a moment.  

"Would you tell me anything I wanted to know?" she asked.

"That depends," he said.  "I already said I wouldn't break confidence with the women who trusted me."

"I'm not talking about that," she said.  "If I asked you how you felt about something, would you tell me the truth?"

"Probably," he said.  "I can't think of anything I wouldn't, but I won't promise you something I may not be able to honor."

"Do you find me ... attractive?" she asked.

He looked over at her and grinned.  "Of course," he said.  "You already knew that."

She blushed faintly.  She'd assumed it ... but she hadn't known it.

"If you had to ... if the situation called for it ... would you kiss me?" she asked.

"I thought you wanted to know something interesting," he said.  "I was hired to play the part of your husband.  I'll do anything a husband could reasonably be expected to do ... Darling."  He grinned again.

This time, she smiled faintly.

"Can I ask you a question?" he asked.

"Go ahead," she said.

"Why are you so afraid of me?"

She thought about that, while she negotiated her way onto Kellog street.  Traffic was fairly light, this time of the morning, but she wanted to pay attention to that, rather than answer his question.

"Let me guess," he said, finally.

"OK," she said, relieved that he'd let her off the hook, after she had questioned him.

"You find ME attractive," he said.

It was like he could see into her brain, and she got anxious again.

"You love your husband, but there's a part of you that wants to be with me ... to explore what that might be like.  You're curious ... and a little horny."

"I am not!" she said, her voice tight.

"OK," he said, dropping it.

She pulled into the parking lot of the store she wanted, and parked where no one would open a door and hit her car.  Then she turned to him.

"OK," she said, her voice low.  "Maybe I think you're interesting.  But you're right.  I love my husband, and that takes priority."

"And yet, your husband, who loves you - there's no doubt about that - hired me to do this.  Do you think he knew you'd find me ... interesting ... when he did that?"

She slumped.  

"Yes, he knew.  He even told me I would."  She frowned.  "Do you think he's testing me?"

Bobby smiled.  "No," he said.  "I don't think he's testing you.  I think he wants you to go to your reunion and knock all your old friends socks off, and have a good time, and come home and tell him all about it."

"I don't want to be tempted by you," she said.

"Look, Felicity," he said.  "Other women have reacted the same way to me.  I understand that.  I understand how you can want something, and not want it at the same time.  All I can tell you is that I'll only do what you need me to do."

"Do you want to make love to me?" she asked.

"That's a question you don't want me to answer truthfully," he said.

Her first thought was that he would say no, and that hurt, for some reason.  Then she thought about what she knew about him.  She'd caught him looking at her like a man looks at a woman.  He wasn't obvious about it, but he did it.  She knew what the answer would be then, and her stomach did flip flops again.

"Thank you," she said, very quietly.

"My pleasure," he said.  "Now, I need a new pair of jeans, for the reunion."

She laughed, then, not sure if he was serious or not.  She got out of the car and, when he offered her his arm, she took it ... gingerly ... but she took it. letting her hand hook lightly under his arm, to rest on his biceps.  She felt the muscle there, and moved her hand to his elbow, as her stomach acted up again.

"Where we're going, there are no jeans," she said.  "I'll pick the clothing, if you don't mind."  It wasn't really a negotiation.

"Fine by me," he said.  "Please just don't make me look like one of those guys in New York and places like that, where you can't tell what sex they are."

Her laughter was genuine, this time, and the instinctive urge to pull his arm against her breast was done, before she realized it.  She wasn't used to that feeling.  When she took Chester's arm, she had to reach down a lot farther, and it just wasn't situated to pull his arm against her breast.   This man just felt like he fit better.  She pushed that thought aside too.  It wasn't quite so hard, this time.

Chapter Six

She bought him two suits, a sport jacket, ten shirts of various hues, and five ties.  It was the kind of place that could do the alterations in the same day, for the right amount of money.    She took him to another store, while the alterations were being done, and got him four pair of casual slacks off the rack, and two more shirts.

"I thought this deal was only two days," he said.

"Yes," she said, in shopping mode now, and easily able to ignore his tug.  "But there will be three nights.  We arrive one evening, and will probably go out that night.  Then there's the first day of the reunion, and we'll go out that night for sure.  The second day is really for those who couldn't make it on the first day.  We'll be too tired to drive home, so we'll go out that night and then come home the next morning.   So it's three nights and two days, in all."

"Oh," he said.  "Sounds like fun.  Where do you suppose we'll go out at night?"

"That will all depend on the people who are there," she said.  "They may want to go to a club, or to an Opera, perhaps, or maybe there will just be a party somewhere.  We won't know that until it happens.  That's why I'm getting you a range of clothing.  We want to be prepared for anything."

"Well, then we have more shopping to do," he said.  "For you too, I'm guessing."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, holding a pullover shirt up to his chest.

"One of the big scene's these days is Country and Western dancing.  I've got clothes at home I could wear for that, but they're not new.  I doubt you have anything to wear to something like that."

"I wouldn't know how to dance at a place like that," she said.

"Well, then," he said.  "While you're teaching me how to go to an opera, I'll teach you to two step."

==================================

He had tried on dozens of outfits for her, and come out of dressing rooms dozens of times.  She had looked at him with professionally critical eyes, looking for the things that made an outfit look right or wrong on him.  Now it was her turn to come out of a dressing room, wearing what he had picked out for her.

"This is ridiculous," she said, pulling the curtain apart and sticking only her face out.

"Come on," he said, grinning.

"You're teasing me," she said.  "You don't actually expect me to wear this."

"I don't know," he said.  "Let's see it."

She came out in a lavender sequined tank top, over a jeans skirt with fringe on the hem, which only came to mid thigh.   He'd picked purple cowboy boots, and a hat to match.   She looked fabulous.  The tank top clung to her breasts like skin, and her legs were superb.

"I approve," he said.

"Of course you do," she said.  You can probably see the freckles on my boobs, this thing is so tight.  And if I bent over, you could see my panties!"

"That's why you aren't supposed to wear panties with that outfit," he said calmly.

She blushed bright red.   "OK, buster, you've had your fun.  Now, get me a real outfit!"

He ended up getting her a doeskin shirt that had built in cups for the breasts to go in, but didn't amount to a bra.  That's because the back was all held together by strings, that basically showed a bare back.   The dark maroon skirt went to just above the knee, but the hem was weighted so that if she spun, it would rise and show whatever she was wearing under it.  He didn't tell her that part.  He kept the hat and boots, though.  They went with the skirt and top.

"There's no back to this thing," she complained from inside the dressing room.

"It's all the rage in Western dance clubs," he said, lying through his teeth.  He had no idea what the rage was.  He knew how to two step, and that was it.   It had been in the "Dancing Clothing" section, and he thought she'd look good in it, so that's what he picked up.

"I can't wear a bra with this," she complained.

"It has one built in," he said.

"Yes, but it won't hold me still."

"And your point is?" he said, laughing.  

Her face came through the curtain again.

"My point is that I'll jiggle like Jell-O!"

"That, my dear, is exactly what I'm going for."  He grinned.  "I want every man who didn't beg you to marry him in High School, to rue the day he let you get past him.  I want every man who sees you to get a stomach ache, thinking that, had he been just a bit smarter, he could be the one you're going to the hotel with that night.  I want you to destroy them all.  I'll ogle their women, of course, just so they don't feel left out."

"You're horrible," she said, feeling the flush of pleasure his words had brought to her.  He sounded passionate about wanting her to look sexy. It made her want to look sexy too.  "If you're sure ... I'll get it ... but if I'm the only one dressed like this, we're leaving."

"Im sure," he said firmly.  It would be worth it if the only place he got to see her in it was in the hotel room.

She came out, dressed in her traveling clothes, and handed the other items to the clerk, telling her to bag them up.

"Now," she said.  "We'll need a swim suit for you. Do you have one?"

"At our place, if you go swimming in the pond, you're skinny dipping," he said.  

She put her hands on her hips, looked him up and down, and took him to another store.  She had him try on ten different suits.  It wasn't until the fifth one that he figured out she just liked looking at his bare chest and legs.  She finally settled on the tightest one.

"That's the one," she said.

He looked down.  He could see the outline of his prick in it, and the swell of his balls below that.

"You're kidding," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"The girls will just die when they see that.  We definitely have to go swimming."

"So, is it my turn to ogle you in a dozen swim suits?" he asked.

"No," she said lightly.  "I already have one."  She turned to the clerk, who was female, and who had had just as much fun watching Bobby model swim suits as Felicity admitted to herself she'd had.  "We'll take that one," she said.

"Do you need any help getting it off, Sir?" asked the girl.

"He'll do just fine by himself," snapped Felicity.  "Besides, if anybody helps him, it would be me.  We're married!"

The girl rolled her eyes, as if to say "Sure you are, honey, and I'm Dolly Parton," and went back to her work.  That look was not lost on Felicity.

Back in the car she said so.  "She didn't believe we're married," she said, worriedly.

"I saw her checking out your ring, and then my hand," said Bobby.  "I'll need a wedding band."

"Of course!" said Felicity, feeling a little better.  

"And, we have a lot more work to do to get to that comfortable place happily married people are in."  Bobby looked at her to see her reaction.  She had relaxed, while shopping, but had tensed up when she claimed to be married to him.

She looked over at him.  Now that they weren't shopping, he affected her again.  She was amazed that she could have looked at him so much, and been so unaffected in the stores, but that now that he was just sitting there, the butterflies were back in her stomach.

The suits were ready.  By the time they were in the trunk, it was full.  They stopped at a Spangles, and ate, while he told her a little about his own childhood, and then they headed back to Granger.   Once there, she said she'd place his things in a guest room.  The plan was for him to stay at the mansion for three days before they left for Kansas City.  That would get them both used to seeing each other all day long.  

Nothing was said about the nights.

=======================================

That night, Linda visited him again.   She didn't even try to hide the fact that she was trying to get him in her again.  The first time, though, had been by accident, and she couldn't figure out how she'd done it.  Bobby didn't help her, until she got frustrated.

"You're sure you want this?" he asked, softly.

"Yes," she moaned.

He rolled her over.  With Linda, he wanted to be in control, for some reason.  He laid her knees on top of his shoulders, leaving her helpless and bent.  Her pussy was perfectly aligned for his prick, when he slotted the head between her pussy lips.  She was wet, from all her playing and trying.  To ease what he knew would be discomfort, at best, and pain, at worst, he bent down and sucked hard on a nipple as he slowly pushed her full of prick.  She made grunting sounds, mixed with moans.  She'd only had two inches in her before, and now she was skewered.

Once inside her, he stopped. In this position, his prick didn't hit her clitty, and he had to use both hands to support them.   He knew that while it felt wonderful for him, she might not be able to cum this way.  As he felt her tightness begin to relax, he gave an experimental withdrawal and shove, and she yipped and panted.  He did it again, and the look on her face told him all he needed to know.

Slowly, he started withdrawing almost all the way, and then sliding back in.  Her round eyes, and panting puffs of stuttering breathing said she was feeling things she wasn't quite prepared for.  Speeding up seemed to rob her of the ability to speak, and she gasped for air, her hands banging on the bed beside her hips.  When he started moving really fast, she started whining.  It was getting louder and louder, so he bent her further and, using just his abdominal muscles, began short jackrabbit in and out thrusts, while he covered her mouth with his.

It was her cries into his mouth that told him she was, indeed, having an orgasm.  This position was hard on him, so, he kept going, feeling his own release approaching.   As she wound down, he finally pushed in deep, getting a grunting hiss from her, and bathed her cervix with hot spunk.  Her kisses became almost frantic as she felt the heat, deep in her belly, and her hands came to pull his face to hers.

They froze there, with her bent over, and his weight holding her.  When he was sure he'd dribbled his last into her, he moved back.  She took a huge breath of air as her lungs were allowed to inflate.  He stayed in her, but moved her legs off his shoulders.  Then he grasped her hips and lifted them, pulling her against him, so that he couldn't fall out of her.

"What ... are you ... doing?" she panted.

"Holding you up, so my sperm goes in your womb," he said.

"Why?" she huffed.

"So that, if your pills don't work, I'll get you pregnant," he said, grinning.

"You want ... to get me ... pregnant?" she panted, her eyes opening wide.

"Sure do," he said.  He let her butt back down on the bed and, still inside her, leaned down to kiss her again.  "I want to give my baby sister a big, round belly, just like Mamma's."

The response wasn't quite what he'd intended.  What he'd intended was for her to think about how dangerous this was, whether she was on the pill or not.  Nothing worked a hundred percent of the time, and she needed to understand that.   What he got, was another frantic kiss, as the idea of looking like her mother made Linda almost want to do that.  

She thought her mother's pregnant belly was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

===========================================

For the next week Bobby spent most of each day at the Chumley residence.  He was a big hit with the staff members, particularly Annie, who was unmarried, and just as susceptible to Bobby's charms as most other women seemed to be.   At one point, it was a bone of contention between Bobby and Felicity.

"You're being cruel to her," Felicity said, as they sat at a table outside, sipping fruit juice.

"How?" asked Bobby.

"She has a crush on you, and you flirt with her and tease her all the time.  That's not kind, when she'll never get a chance to take it any further."  Felicity's voice was chiding.

"Who says she'll never get a chance?" asked Bobby.   "I think she's a sweet girl, who deserves some fun in life."

Felicity felt the same thing she'd been feeling lately, when one of Bobby's "other women" came up in conversation.  It irked her no end that she was jealous of Bobby's attentions to other women.  She was still trying to convince herself that nothing would ever happen between them.   That she was having to convince herself at all was also unsettling.

"You can't play with her emotions like that!" said Felicity, frowning.

"I wouldn't play with her emotions," said Bobby.  "I'd just make love to her and make her happy."

"You can NOT just go around making love with my staff!" yipped Felicity.

"If we were actually married, I'd agree with you," he said, grinning.  "But we're not."  He reached out and touched her hand.  "Though we are getting better at acting like it.  At least in my opinion."

His fingertips on her hand made Felicity want to pull it away.  That was something he'd been doing all week ... touching her.  It wasn't anything obvious or lewd.  He touched her elbow, or took her hand, briefly, as they walked side by side in the garden.  He had a maddening tendency to wipe her lips for her, when they were snacking on something.  It wasn't that she found his touch distasteful.  Quite the opposite.  That was the problem.  Twice she had taken HIS hand, while walking.   She'd let go immediately, but it was very troublesome.

Her husband wasn't helping either.   Every night, he asked her how things had gone, while he stroked her and brought her to orgasm.  The trouble was that he made her talk about Bobby, while he did that.  So, quite naturally, she tried to tell herself, she thought about Bobby's hands doing what Chester's hands were doing.  It was getting so she didn't even want her own husband to make love to her!

She'd never thought of herself as a "hot blooded" woman.  Now, all day long, and at night, in bed with her husband, she kept thinking of sexual things.  It was enough to drive even a strong woman to do strange things.

Such as what she'd done recently, at dinner one evening.   Ramona seemed to take particular delight in serving them different dishes, as if they were eating in a restaurant, and had ordered different things from the menu.  She said it was because that's how it would be on the trip, but more than once Annie, while blushing and serving him, said "Ramona made this especially for you."   

On that night, she'd wanted, for some reason, to taste his food.  When he found out, he actually FED her with his own fork!  And she'd found herself suddenly putting her fork in HIS mouth, while he went on and on about how good it was.  Watching him just eat, after that, had gotten her so horny that she'd welcomed Chester's hands on her body, later that night.

It got so bad that she told him to take Saturday and Sunday off ... to spend time with his family, she said.  

Actually, it was to give herself a chance to catch her breath.

=======================================

At home, Linda was insatiable.  She'd been going out with Paul, and she loved every minute of it.  He was shy, and did not respond to her attempts to flirt with him.   It was their third date before he leaned toward her, to kiss her.  He'd chickened out, and pulled back, and she'd had to take his head in her hands and pull his lips to hers.  She still giggled when she thought about the look that had been on his face after she did that.

She didn't push it with Paul.  Part of that was because she really liked him, and didn't want their relationship to be strained.  But most of it was because she had Bobby at home, and could climb in bed with him, to ease the ache in her loins after she'd been out with Paul.

She'd learned how to get him in her while she was on top, and particularly loved the feeling of letting her weight down on his stiff prick, as it went as deep as she could get it.  Her assumption that all men were like him wasn't destroyed until much later, but she learned enough from him that she was able to teach Paul how to make her feel that good too.  That was much later, of course.

It was good for Bobby too, because he found himself in a situation that was unfamiliar to him.   Always before, the woman he had chosen to ... "help" ... had been a willing participant in things, at least eventually.  Felicity was a strong woman, with strong convictions and ideas, and was resisting his attempts to make her feel ... comfortable with him.   It was good to have Linda each night, to let him expend his unused sexual energy.

He also spent time with his mother, twice sleeping with her, to massage her and lavish attention on her by spreading body lotion on her swollen belly while she sighed at the relief of his touch.  It seemed like the baby would never come, to her.

====================================

The second week of "preparations" at the Chumley home wore heavily on Felicity.   More and more she found herself laughing or giggling at something Bobby had done, or said.  He really was fun to be with, and did the most outrageous things, such as kissing Annie's hand, when she served him something he especially liked, or spending twenty minutes telling Ramona how good her homemade hot rolls were ... all the while begging for more of them.

When he suggested they swim in the pool, she didn't think anything about it.  When she'd picked his swim suit, her mind had been compartmentalized.  She'd been in shopping mode, with an eye toward critical examination of potential purchases.  She hadn't let herself LOOK at him, as a man she'd be spending lots of time with.  When she got to the pool, which he'd gotten to first, and he climbed up out of the water to greet her, she'd thought she might faint.  She'd stood, frozen, her eyes pinned to the clear outline of his penis in the wet suit.  His chest had looked a mile wide, and that devastating, somehow teasing smile was on his lips.

She hadn't given a thought to her own suit.  She'd worn it to the pool at the house a hundred times, and it was something she never thought about any more.   If she'd have taken the time to remember how she felt the first time she'd worn it for Chester, she might have decided that swimming with Bobby wasn't the best idea.

Her suit was a bikini.  It was a pale rose color, that got semi transparent when wet.   It covered her breasts, except for the insides and the outsides, being composed of two long triangles that joined at the bottom.  The panty rode high on her hips, but covered her, both front and back, reasonably well.  If she actually swam in it, it tended to creep between her buttocks in the back, but she learned to pull it back out almost automatically.

Chester had loved it.

Now, as Bobby approached her, with his penis all but hanging out of the suit SHE had chosen for him, she saw in his eyes that he loved it too.

She felt suddenly naked, and looked down in horror as she felt the tingling that always happened when Chester played with her breasts.  Her unbelieving eyes saw her nipples betray her as they made dents in her bikini top.

"Beautiful," sighed Bobby, his eyes raking up and down her body.  "Just beautiful."

She was so discomfited that she said "Thank you" automatically, when what she wanted to say was "You can't look at me like that!", turn around, and run back into the house.

Then he took her hand, like she was a princess, and stepped way too close to her.  His blue eyes ended up inches from hers, and she felt like she was going to fall to the pool deck any second.

"I'm going to like pretending to be your husband very much, if you wear that."

He didn't even give her the chance to correct his behavior.  Instead, he grinned and said "Now I gotta go, before I really make you mad," and turned and dove into the pool.   She didn't understand what he meant.  She hadn't had the chance to see that the outline of his prick had gotten much longer, and much straighter in his trunks, before he hid it from her in the water.

If the pool situation was bad, though, it didn't hold a candle to his dancing lessons.  She found  herself standing in front of him, one of his hands reaching around to her stomach, and his other holding her arm out straight, while the beat of the music made it almost impossible not to bump her butt against the front of his jeans.   He threw her, and pulled her back and spun her until she was dizzy, and HAD to hold on to his strong body.   Her nipples tingled constantly, and she couldn't catch her breath.   His running commentary on how she was doing and what to do next kept her mind spinning.   Even dancing side by side, hip to hip, with his arm around her back made her tingle, as she tried to remember the steps.   What she thought saved her was that sometimes, they danced apart too.  That was so much easier.

And then there were the constant conversations they had, about everything under the sun.   If they weren't doing something together, they were sitting and talking.  He got her to talk about all kinds of things, as if he were really interested in what her life had been like, and what her feelings about things were.  They had deep conversations about important things too, like capital punishment, cancer research, the war in Viet Nam, and a variety of other things she hadn't thought much about, but which suddenly seemed very important.

And always, Annie seemed to be throwing herself at him ... blushing ... saying how handsome he looked with his new haircut, or in the clothes Felicity had bought for him ... letting him kiss her hand ... and suddenly stopping conversations she was having with Ramona, when Felicity walked in.   Felicity didn't admit her jealousy to herself until she thought about firing Annie.

Then, in bed with her husband, she cried.

"What's wrong, my sweet?" asked Chester, holding her.

"I thought about firing Annie today," she sobbed.

"Why on Earth would you do that?" he asked.

"I don't want to tell you," she moaned.

"Come, dear," he said softly.  "You must."

"I'm jealous of her!" she sobbed.

"How could you be jealous of her, my darling?" he asked.  "She's just a slip of a girl ... just nineteen.  You're much more beautiful than she'll ever be."

"She pays attention to ... him.  And he flirts with her!"

"Is he sleeping with her?" asked Chester.

"No," she moaned.  "But if he was staying here, she'd be trying to sneak into his room every night."

"And why would that be so terrible?" asked Chester.  He'd heard an unending litany from his wife about how she was NOT interested in anything other than playacting with this man he'd hired for her.

"I don't KNOW!" she whined.

"You've come to like him," said Chester.

"I don't WANT to like him!" she wailed.

"But you do anyway," he said.

She rolled away from him.

"YOU did this to me!" she said.  "Why would you do this to me?  I LOVE YOU!"  She started crying again.

"I did it BECAUSE I love you," he said, holding her again.  "I told you all the reasons.  I want you to have passion in your life ... to feel young and beautiful ... to have what I cannot give you."  He stroked her back.  "You should be looked at and lusted after by a man who can take you places I can never take you ... make you feel like I can never make you feel.   You are most precious to me, my darling, and I want you to be vibrant, and alive ... fully a woman, while I can still see that, and know how happy you are."

It penetrated, at last.  She finally allowed herself to admit it.  Her husband ... dear sweet Chester ... didn't mind if she had sex with a younger man.  Not any younger man, but a man he had chosen for her.   Her intellect understood what he was saying ... appreciated it, even.  Her emotions felt a sense of relief ... that what she kept feeling for Bobby was actually allowed ... encouraged, in fact.   Her resistance had been because she was sure it would hurt Chester.  And yet, his insistence was that it would make him happy, not sad.  She didn't understand that part.  The jealousy she felt for Annie was something she just assumed any person would feel, in her situation.  She assumed Chester would feel jealousy too.  But his insistence was that her fulfillment was more important to him, and she finally believed  him.

In a way, that was worse, because she also admitted that she was infatuated with Bobby.  She didn't want to be, but she was.  And that wouldn't change.   She already knew him well enough to know she'd always like him ... always respect him for being the man he was.  That meant that her defenses would be down.

And that meant that she would ... most likely ... allow things to happen that, two short weeks ago, she'd have fought against with all her strength.

Something broke inside Felicity Chumley, that night, as she lay in her husband's arms.  "Broken" doesn't always mean that something bad has happened.  A drought, when broken, is a good thing.  When a fever breaks, it is a positive sign.  And when Felicity's resistance to Bobby broke, she began to feel better almost immediately.

Not that she became a wanton hussy.  Not by a long stretch.  But she thought about things differently.  Oddly, once she admitted she was infatuated with him, the attraction wasn't so powerful.  She could look at him like a handsome, interesting man, and feel like exploring that interesting man wasn't so dangerous.   She also realized that her jealousy for Annie was fading a bit.

In fact, in a somewhat bizarre twist, she thought of a way to let Annie help her.

It happened at lunch, when, once again, Annie blushed and complimented Bobby on how handsome he looked in the slacks and mauve shirt Felicity had picked out for him.  Felicity thought he looked pretty good too.

"Annie!" she said suddenly, thinking about something she and Bobby might have to do during their play acting, and which she had resisted thinking about until now.

"Yes, Ma'am?" said Annie, realizing she'd done it again.  She had recognized the unhappiness in her employer in the past, when she paid too much attention to Bobby, and had tried to control her crush."

"You are aware of why Bobby is here ... what we are preparing to do."

"Um .. yes Ma'am," said Annie, uncomfortably.   It hadn't been discussed this openly before.

"I wonder if you'd help me ... with a little experiment." said Felicity.

"Of course, Ma'am," said the servant.

"It may be required that I ... kiss Bobby, at the reunion, at some point.  Of course I don't want to do that frivolously ... such as now ... but I do need to have some idea of how to be prepared for that, should it be required."

"I don't understand, Ma'am," said the girl.

"I was just wondering if ... perhaps ... you would be willing to let him kiss ... you.  Then you could tell me what it was like."

Bobby grinned, and Felicity wanted to shake him.  How could he be so openly anxious to kiss the girl?!   She realized she was jealous again, and pushed that away.

"Me?" squeaked Annie.  "Kiss ... him?"

"You don't have to, of course," said Felicity.

"Oh, it's OK!" said the young woman, entirely too quickly for Felicity's taste.  "I could do that!" said the girl.  "For you," she added, almost as an afterthought.

Bobby wasted no time.  He stood, swept a jittery Annie into his arms, and kissed her like he would kiss Felicity, if he ever got the chance.

He had to hold her up, when it was done.  She was as limp as a rag doll, and her head lolled to one side, her eyes unfocused, and her mouth open.   Bobby carried her to his own chair, and sat her down, holding her, as she started to lean to one side.

Felicity jumped up.

"What on Earth did you do to her?" she asked, her voice tight.

"I just kissed her," said Bobby, grinning.

"She's practically unconscious!" said Felicity, bending over her servant.

"All I did was kiss her," said Bobby, whining like a five year old.

Felicity started slapping Annie's face gently.

"Annie?  Honey?  Are you all right?" she asked softly.

Annie's eyes cleared, and strength came back into her body quite suddenly.  She jerked, and looked, first at her employer, and then, as her head turned, to Bobby.

"Wow!" she sighed.

"Thank you," said Bobby, almost primly.

Annie looked back at Felicity.  "I might have to do that again.  I can't remember too much about that one."

Felicity felt anger tighten in her chest, and then, the comedy of the situation rushed down on her.  SHE was the one who had made the poor girl do this.  And now SHE was unhappy about it.   SHE had watched, as Bobby's lips had crushed the poor, innocent girl's, and his strong arms had crushed her body to his.

She giggled.  Then she sat down.  Annie had just done something she wanted desperately to do, but was too unsure of.  Suddenly, Annie seemed like a girl friend, who had some knowledge that she wanted badly.

"Was it really good?" she asked, as if Bobby wasn't even there.

"Ohhhh Ma'am," sighed Annie.  "You don't want to do that, Ma'am."

"I don't?" asked Felicity.

"No Ma'am," said Annie firmly.  "That's a very dangerous man."

"Thank you," said Bobby again.

"If he needs to be kissed, you must promise to call me," said Annie.

Then she giggled.

Both women started laughing, and Felicity apologized for making Annie do it, and Annie kept saying she didn't mind, until both of them were laughing so hard that they had to hold on to each other. 

Bobby just stood behind them and grinned.

Chapter Seven

There was a subtle shift in the atmosphere around the Chumley manor, after that.  It wasn't a huge shift, but it made all the difference in the world.

Felicity began to flirt with Bobby.

More than that, she let him flirt with her.   

Bobby touched her more.  Now, in addition to touching her hand or elbow, he put his hand in the middle of her back, and it often stroked her briefly, there.  Their dancing became more fluid, as she quit trying to keep her body away from his, and allowed the sensations to create in her, the kind of excitement that has made dancing a passion-filled thing for millennia.

She didn't kiss him ... not even on the cheek.  But she knew she would, some day, kiss him.  That anticipation made her more passionate in bed, with Chester, and he noticed it.   Now, when she took his flaccid penis into her mouth, and worked it until he had an orgasm, she did so with a gusto that had been previously lacking.  Not that she hadn't enjoyed sucking him.  She just enjoyed it more now.

His joints caused him trouble, when he had to get on his hands and knees, to service his wife in the same manner.  It was worth it to him, because her taste was delicious, to his aged tongue.   But they hadn't done it often, because it caused him pain.   Now, she carefully lowered her pussy to his lips, as he lay, comfortably, and she held her weight on her knees and with her arms, as she rubbed, and he licked, and she felt deliciously ecstatic at the orgasms he produced.

At one point, when they lay in each other's arms, Chester told her he'd noticed her increase in sensuality.

"Has he made love to you?" he asked.

"No," she blushed.  "I haven't even kissed him yet."   She wiggled against his thigh, pushing her slippery pussy against his bony knee.  "I told Annie to kiss him, and seeing what that did to her ... I just got scared."

"Has he bedded her yet?" asked the old man.

"Of course not," she said.  "He spends all his time with me."

"What will you do when this is all finished?" he asked.

"It will just be over ... won't it?" she asked, her eyes widening.

"I suppose that's up to you ... and Annie," he said.

"You're so strange," she commented.  "Most men would be jealous."

"How can I possibly be jealous, when my wife comes to me insane with passion?" he smiled.  "You've become an even better lover, my dear."


"Because I love you," she said, kissing his shoulder.

"True," he mused.  "But also because he excites you.  I get the benefit of that excitement."

"That's why I don't let him touch me," she said, satisfaction in her voice.  "I want YOU to satisfy me."

"You're this passionate when he hasn't even touched you," pointed out Chester.  "How much more passionate would you be if he did?"

She pushed her pussy hard against his knee, feeling an orgasm possible.  She kept rubbing, telling him to just lie still, and let her use his body.  As the orgasm seeped through her belly, she admitted she'd been wondering the same thing.

===================================

Two things threatened to undo all the work they'd gone to, to prepare for the fiction they were going to foist on her old friends.

The first was that Mirriam began having contractions.   Bobby was home, at the time, and took her to the hospital.   But the doctor said they were false contractions, and sent her home.  Bobby was worried that she'd go into labor while he was in Kansas City.  He was due to spend the night before they left, sleeping in his guest room at the manor, and he was loathe to leave, if she was so close to delivery.

Ted, having been notified by Prudence, who was notified by one of the girls, when Bobby took her to the hospital, arrived at the house, having gone to the hospital first.    He knew that Bobby had a trip of some kind planned, though not what it was about.   He assured Bobby that he'd spend the weekend with Mirriam, taking care of her.   With Flo, Linda and Suzie, not to mention the twins, who were now fifteen, helping him, he convinced Bobby that she'd be well taken care of in his absence.

The second issue happened at the manor, on the Thursday night before he and Felicity were due to leave for the reunion.   He'd spent a few hours with both Felicity and Chester, in the library, just chatting, like old friends.  Felicity had sat with her husband, holding his hand.

Later, while he lay in a strange bed, reading himself to sleep, there was a tap on his door.   He was in his jockey shorts, and he thought it must be Felicity, with some last minute instruction.  He decided to tease her by answering the door in just his underwear.

It was Annie, instead.

"Is there anything else you ... Oh my!" she yipped, her eyes slithering all over his mostly naked form.

"Oh," he said.  "It's you.  I'm sorry.  I thought you were Felicity."

"Do you often meet her like ... this?" asked the girl, her voice dreamy.

"No."  He grinned.  "I was going to tease her, to be honest with you."

"Well, you're teasing me instead," she breathed.

"I didn't mean to," he said, recognizing a woman in heat.  "But Id be happy to tease you a little, if you want me to."

"How would you do that?" she asked, her eyes bright.

"I'd kiss you, and feel those luscious breasts you have," he teased.

"You would?"  Her voice was back to dreamy.

"Don't you have a boyfriend?" asked Bobby.

"I did, but he went off to college, when we graduated.  He has a new girlfriend now."  She didn't seem all that upset by that.

"Do you need a kiss, Annie?" he asked softly.

"Uh huh," she sighed.

"Are you a virgin, Annie?" he asked.

She blinked, and then flushed bright red.  "No," she said, her voice small.

"If you let me kiss you, I'm going to want to do some other things too," he said, smiling.

She looked down, and he almost laughed.  He knew he was already hard ... had felt it happening to him, at the thought of playing with this sweet girl.

"I can see that."  Her voice was husky.

Felicity found them, in a torrid embrace, Bobby kissing Annie again.  They were standing in his open door, and his hands were on Annie's butt.  She was wearing her uniform.

"Ahem," said Felicity.

Annie, to her credit, tried to escape his embrace.  He wouldn't let her.

"Yes?" said Bobby, holding the girl tightly, his hands still on her butt.

"You need to get some sleep," said Felicity, feeling the heat of jealousy and desire, at the same time.

"I need to relax," said Bobby.  "So does Annie.  She's very tense right now."

Annie had stopped trying to get loose, and buried her face in his naked chest.

"Annie will have to find some other way to relax," said Felicity firmly.

"And me?" asked Bobby.  "Are you going to help me relax?"

Whereas, two weeks ago, she would have exploded, and said something like "Certainly NOT!", by now, she was more honest with herself.  "Tempting," she said, regally, "but no.  I just came to tell you to wear the apricot shirt, with the chocolate slacks, tomorrow morning."

"All right," he said, his hands finally leaving the girl's buttocks, to slid up her back.  "Is that all?"

"Yes," she said, feeling lost and lonely.

"OK, then," he said.  "I'll see you in the morning."

He pulled Annie into the room, and closed the door.

"We can't!" came Annie's dim yelp, through the door."

Then it was quiet.

Felicity stood there for long minutes, straining to hear anything else through the door.   She thought about knocking, and demanding that Annie go back to her duties.  She glanced at her watch.  Annie had, technically, been off duty for over an hour.   She had come  here, still in her uniform and, Felicity admitted to herself, most likely just to see if he needed anything.

Obviously, he did need something ... something that Annie was willing to give him.

A moan broke into her thoughts, and she wasn't sure she had actually heard anything.   Blushing at her own lack of control, she pressed her ear to the door.

"Ohhhhh yesss," came a feminine moan, so faint it was barely there.

Felicity deluded herself into hearing bed springs squeaking, and then remembered, to her shame, that bed springs just didn't squeak in this house.   When you spent that much on a bed, it just didn't squeak.

She jerked her hand off the door knob, and couldn't believe she had turned it half way.

"Ohhhh Bobby," came a passion-filled female voice, through the door.

Feeling like she was going to explode, Felicity went to her bedroom.  Chester was already asleep, lying peacefully in their bed.  She ached with need, but wouldn't wake him.  She knew it would require too much from him to satisfy her.

She went to the kitchen instead, and turned on the light.   Her hands pulled the ingredients from the shelves without conscious thought, as she started to make a batch of cookies.  She had no gleam of knowledge that, miles away, there was another woman, the woman who had given birth to the man who tormented her, and that that woman too, had made cookies because of Bobby.   Though miles apart, both socially and in linear distance, both women resorted to the same thing, from time to time, to soothe their angst.

She had taken the first pan out of the oven, and put the second pan in, when Annie burst into the kitchen.   Her hair was mussed, and her cheeks were pink.  The smile on her face told what a thousand words couldn't communicate.

"Oh!" she yipped.  "I thought you were Ramona!"

Felicity looked at the girl.  She was in her uniform ... again.  That caused a cramp of desire in Felicity's loins.   In her hurry, she had buttoned the tunic improperly.  Her bra was in her hand, hanging, almost touching the floor.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am," moaned the girl, mortified.  She had been about to share her joy with the cook, and now, she knew she was a few words from being jobless.  "I couldn't help myself."

The strength in Felicity that she had always depended on ... which had carried her though those first awful days, and then the months that followed ... deserted her at that moment.   Her eyes fell on the pan of cookies she had removed from the oven, and she picked one up, changing it from hand to hand, because it was still too hot to hold.  She knew the sugar in it would give her strength, though, and she bit into it.

"Please, Ma'am," pleaded Annie.  "I promise it will never happen again!"

Felicity picked up another cookie, and walked around the counter, extending it to the girl.  She could smell the sex on her, even over the odor of the cookies.

"I know," said Felicity, her voice dull.   

Annie took the cookie, looking at it in confusion.  Her eyes went to her employer, and she saw sadness in the eyes she looked into.

"Are you all right?" Annie asked.

"Not really," said Felicity.  She took another bite of her cookie, and then stuffed the whole thing into her mouth, chewing vigorously.

"Honest, Ma'am," said Annie.  "I won't let him do that again."

"Yes you will," said Felicity, her voice hollow.  "But it's all right.  You're not fired."

The girl rushed to hug her, something none of the staff had ever done, in the four years she'd been their new mistress.

"Thank you!" moaned the girl, pressing her face into Felicity's chest. "I'm so sorry."

The odor about the girl ... the odor of lovemaking ... was impossible to ignore.  She was trembling.   Felicity patted her back, until the maid backed away.   She wiped at her eyes.

"Eat your cookie," said Felicity, turning to go get another for herself.

Standing there, she took a bite, and looked at Annie.

"Did he make you happy?" she asked, almost timidly.

The girl struggled, visibly, but then straightened her shoulders.

"Yes, Ma'am," she admitted.  Her understatement was obvious in the flush that appeared on her face.

"Go on to bed," said Felicity.  

She leaned down to take the other pan out of the oven, even though the cookies weren't done yet.  She put it on top of the stove, and turned the oven off.   Annie had scurried out of the kitchen, fleeing to her own room, on one end of the manor.

Felicity stood in the kitchen, looking around.  She'd have to apologize to Ramona, in the morning, for leaving a mess.   Leaden feet took her toward her bedroom, where her husband lay sleeping.   She was both un-surprised, and resigned, when those feet turned, and went down the wrong hallway, to the wrong room, where her hand reached out and turned the wrong knob.

He was lying, naked on his bed, reading a book.  He looked up as she came into the room and closed the door gently behind her.

"I was hoping you'd come," he said.

======================================

When she would have time to think about it later, Felicity Chumley would realize that, when she went to Bobby's room, he gave her only enough ... and not too much.  She would not realize that until she crept into bed with her husband, trying not to wake him, because she did not want to answer his questions that night.  She would think about that, as she drifted off to sleep.  And, when she realized that, she would, at last, be fully at peace with what her husband had done ... what he had set her up to do.   She would fall asleep peacefully, for once, no longer tormented by thoughts of a man other than the one she was lying beside, and which she would continue to lie beside until he joined his departed first wife.

It would make more difference to her than anything else that had happened, in the days to come.

What happened, after Bobby said he hoped she'd come, was both tumultuous, and gentle, in a strange way.   He had somehow known that she would stand there, unable to take her clothing off, herself.   His fingers had been soothing, rather than rushed, as he unbuttoned buttons, and slid her garments off.  That he left them lay, in puddles on the floor, she was not aware of.  She felt the air caress her skin, as it was slowly bared.  She felt the tension ease, as her bra was unclipped.  While his fingers did that, she stared into those blue eyes, willing herself to close hers, but unable to do so.   He seemed not to need his eyes to find the front catch on her bra.  Something in her was surprised when, instead of looking at her breasts, or touching them, he continued to search inside her, through he own eyes, and his fingers felt feather light as he pushed the bra back by the straps.  She felt it slide down her arms, which moved back, by themselves, and catch on her wrists, which flipped, by habit, to let the bra drop.

His face disappeared from in front of her as he knelt and slid her panties down.  What she was thinking, at that moment, was that another woman had just left this room.  She could still smell the odors of arousal, and sex.   She felt some amazement that this man could take care of one woman, and then, almost immediately, by comparison to Chester, be ready for another.

Then his hot breath on her mons shredded all thought, and a light kiss from his lips, between her mons and her navel made her knees weak.

She went, unresisting to the bed, which was still warm from the heat of another woman, and lay as he climbed in beside her.  Now she stiffened, and her body rebelled.  She lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling ... waiting ... waiting to be violated by a stranger.

He did not climb on top of her and ravish her.   Part of her mind screamed "What are you waiting for!?"

Instead, his fingertips traced the shoulder nearest him, and he whispered to her.   He whispered that she was brave, and strong.  She felt neither brave nor strong.  He kissed her shoulder, and whispered that he would not hurt her.  She turned her face, at that, and his eyes were pools she knew she'd drown in.

"You don't need to be afraid of me," he said, his fingers moving to her upper chest.  "You'll never need to be afraid of me," he said softly.

She watched as he kissed her shoulder again, and then lifted her hand to kiss the backs of her fingertips.  Laying her hand on her abdomen, he reached to brush back her hair from her face.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured.  "You're like a young filly, so full of energy, so sleek.  You fear the trainer, but crave his touch.

She felt like that ... yes.  She felt relaxation seep into  her body as she realized he understood.

"You're not ready to be ridden," he whispered.   "You could be broken, but that would break your beautiful spirit, and we can't have that."

He moved up, and she felt something warm slide along the top of her thigh.  Her hand moved, and she sucked in breath as it landed on his manhood.   She couldn't see it with her eyes, but her hand and fingers told her it was long, impossibly hard, and thick.   She wanted to take her fingers away, but they were somehow glued to this frightening thing.  They squeezed, testing, and found only strength and virility.

His face was suddenly next to and over hers.  His eyes were right in front of hers, which meant his lips were right in front of hers.  His first kiss was feather light, merely a touching of flesh to flesh.  His second was with infinitesimally more pressure.  He moved his lips, and the third kiss was harder still, enough to make her lips move.   His breath smelled sweet, like chocolate, and she remembered the candy dish she'd ordered to be placed in his room.   Annie had brought that candy dish.

She remembered the moans Annie had made, audible through the thick oak door, and something broke inside her.   Almost violently she rolled, to meet his next kiss full on, returning it with passion that shocked her.   She wanted to consume him ... take him in, somehow, until he was inside her body, where he would touch her at all times.

She found herself writhing against him, her breasts pressed to his chest.  His penis had gone between her legs, and was pressing against her sex.  She ached with need.

Now his hand found her breasts, and she arched into them, eager to feel strong hands on her aching nipples.  She couldn't kiss him enough, and kept snatching breaths, so she could get her lips back on his.

Quite suddenly, she felt his hand between her legs, and one of his fingers slipped inside her.   This was something Chester did regularly, but it felt different somehow.  His hand wiggled in an odd way, and an orgasm came from nowhere to almost destroy her as it raged through her body.  She couldn't kiss him any more, because her lips were stretched in a grimace of delight and sudden fear that she would die from this one orgasm.

He continued to probe with his finger, and his mouth found her stiff nipples, sucking until she screamed hoarsely, as another orgasm followed on the heels of the first.

Then, suddenly, she was wrapped in his arms again.  They felt like steel, but gentle at the same time as he squeezed her to him and kissed her eyes and nose.  His hands traced over her back and buttocks.  She felt the tip of his penis pressing her sex, where his finger no longer was.   She knew that, with just a little hunch of her abs, she could get it in her.  He wasn't pushing, though, and she couldn't make herself complete the act.  Again, she waited to be violated.

The pressure vanished as he rolled away from her, and she felt cool air make her almost shiver.

"You should go to bed now," he said.

"What?"  It was the first word she'd said since she entered the room.

"We have to get up in the morning.  We want to stay fresh all day, and be relaxed, but not tired, when we get there."

"But you havent ..."  Her voice failed her.  The strength he'd whispered to her about surged in her.  "You're not going to ...?"  It failed her as quickly as it had appeared.

"You're not ready for that," he said softly.  

He rolled to kiss her nose again ... like she was some little girl!

Rejection stabbed into her brain.  He was ready!   He was long and hard for her!  But he didn't WANT her!   Rage exploded in her mind, and she jerked away from him, rolling with her strength back, to stand, staring down at the erection he refused to let her have.  It was magnificent, lying on his belly ... but she couldn't have it.  

Bending to snatch up her clothing, she ran, naked from the room, fleeing the man who had hurt her so much.  She had come to HIM!  And he had rejected her.  He had taken her maid ... had made HER happy, but rejected the mistress.   Her rage was so hot that she didn't cry.  The hurt was too deep.

She stopped at her bedroom door, hearing her breath rasping from her mouth, and summoned calm, before going in to her sleeping husband.  Deep breaths eased the rage.  She began to reflect on what had happened.

As she opened the door, stepping quietly inside, she remembered his last words:  "You're not ready for that."

Then she thought some more.

======================================

Flo sat and looked at Ted, sitting in the easy chair in the living room.  He was so sweet to her mother.  Mamma was miserable, and he spent every waking hour with her, soothing her, pushing his fist into her back, talking to her, bringing her tidbits to eat, and sips of various liquids.   She snarled at him ... everyone, really ... and Flo wondered how in the world she'd gotten through eight births before this.

Ted had his eyes closed now.  They'd been talking.  It wasn't about anything important, or urgent ... just talk.   She liked him.  Something about him seemed to call to her.   She looked at his hands.  They were so different than Bobby's.  Bobby's were hard, with thick skin on them from all the work he did with them.   Ted's were soft.  His fingers looked long and slender.  She wondered what they'd feel  like, if he touched her like Bobby touched her.

She shook her head in annoyance.  She'd been having more and more of those thoughts about Ted.   Ted was her mother's man.  They all knew that.  Well, except when he was Prudence's man.  How that worked, she had no idea, but it did.   

She got up, to go tidy up the kitchen.   She must have made some noise, because, as she dipped her hands into the hot dish water, he was suddenly there, behind her, his arm reaching around her with another plate he'd found from somewhere.   She felt his breath on her neck.

She was used to being able to talk to Bobby about anything, especially about how she felt about him.  She felt a sudden yearning to be able to talk to Ted that way too.

"You look stiff," he said, from behind her.  "Are all the women in this family stiff?"

He meant it as a joke, and his hands on her shoulders, rubbing, were meant only to ease her tension ... not feel so wonderful and intimate.  Bobby had been spending all his time at some mysterious job, across town.   And twice now she'd gone to him late at night, only to find Linda, doing with him what she wanted to do with him.  Both times they hadn't seen her.  She'd felt jealousy, which she knew was stupid.  Mary had done that with him, and Bev probably had too.  Goodness knows she'd felt him thrusting inside her own famished pussy enough times.    If Mamma hadn't put her on the pill, she was sure she'd have had two or three babies by now.   Well, maybe not two or three, but she'd have been good and knocked up.    It was a little surprising that hadn't happened anyway, seeing as how she could never remember to swallow the little pill each day.   And, when she did remember to, it wasn't the same time of day, like the instructions said to do.

The hands on her shoulders felt so good.  She needed hands on her breasts too.  Without thinking, she reached for the hands on her shoulders, and pulled them to her breasts.   There.  She sighed.  That was better.

It was his intake of air - a gasp - that made her realize what she'd just done.  Her hands, wet and sudsy, were over his, on top of them, pressing them to her breasts.   She was mortified ... more ashamed than at any other time in her whole life.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed.   Her shoulders shook as his hands slowly slid off her breasts.  She couldn't turn to face him.  She wanted only to run away.  She tried to do that, sliding to the side, blinded by tears.

"Hey," he sighed.  His hand caught her elbow and she tried to jerk it away, but he was suddenly much stronger than she would have thought.

Then she was somehow in his arms, bawling, getting his shirt wet, as his arms went around her.

"Don't cry," he said, his hands smoothing along her back.  "It's all right."

"No it's not," she moaned.  "I thought you were ...  I don't know why I did that."

"Everybody is a little on edge," he said into her ear.  "It makes us all do strange things."

She looked up at him and was shocked to her core as his lips descended on hers in a gentle, sweet kiss that made her want many more just like it.

"Like that," he said, pulling away from her, his voice shaky.

"But we can't DO that," she moaned.  "You belong to Mamma!"

"Let's not worry about that now," he said, backing up a little, but keeping his hands on her elbows.  "We're both tired.  Leave this for tomorrow.  We both need to sleep, while she's sleeping."

"OK" she said, her voice young.  She felt hugely relieved that he hadn't fulfilled her wish ... to be kissed again.

In her bedroom, ten minutes later, she rubbed furiously, seeking relief from the feelings that lingered from his touch and kiss.

On the couch, in the living room, Ted whipped his hand along his erection frantically, seeking the same relief.

Chapter Eight

Friday morning, Felicity woke early, much earlier than usual.  She felt wonderful and rested.  Her calm, of the late night before, was still with her.  She had lost her fear of Bobby Dalton, and now looked forward to being with him.   She wasn't as early a riser as Ramona, however, and when she walked into the kitchen to clean up her mess, Ramona was already there, and already he done so.

"I'm so sorry, Ramona," said Felicity.

"Must have been something powerful upsetting to have you up that late at night," said the woman, concern on her face.

"It's all resolved now," said Felicity.  She felt a thrill as she realized it WAS all resolved.

"It's not like you to leave half baked cookies lying around," said the cook.

"I know," said Felicity.  "I'm starved.  Have you got anything I can munch on?"

Felicity was, in fact, munching on a freshly baked biscuit, when Annie came into the kitchen, yawning.  She stopped cold, when she saw Felicity, worry in her eyes.

Felicity put down the biscuit and went to the girl.  She hugged her tightly.  

"Don't worry about a thing," she whispered.

"What's that all about?" asked Ramona, getting more and more interested in the early morning goings on.

"We had a little argument last night," said Felicity.  "That's all.  It's all taken care of now.   It was a small thing.  All this fuss about the reunion has had us all on edge.  I'm glad we're finally going.  Maybe things will calm down now."

She took her biscuit and went to wake Chester up, humming as she left.

"What in the world has gotten into her?" asked Ramona, looking at a wide-eyed Annie.

"I don't know," Annie said slowly.  "I thought I was a goner for sure."  She suddenly perked up and whirled to look at Ramona.   "Ooooo I can't WAIT to tell you what happened last night!"

Ramona frowned.  This was getting stranger and stranger.

===================================

Chester kissed her good morning and said he wanted to stay in bed.

"You go on, and get ready and go show those friends of yours what real success looks like," he said.

She pouted a little, but then gave him a long, warm kiss and said she'd come in to say goodbye before they left.  He was pulling the covers up over his head as she left.

Her bags were already packed.  Everything was ready to put in the car.  Even Bobby's things were neatly stored in suitcases and hanging bags, sitting in the living room.   On impulse, she went to Bobby's room.

She didn't knock, but just opened the door.  He was in the act of stretching, his arms up above his head.  She rushed to the bed and tried to tickle him, shouting "Get up sleepyhead!"

She found out that he wasn't ticklish, and then found out how quickly he could move when she was grabbed by the waist and lifted into the air, kicking and squealing.   She plopped down on top of him, and suddenly he was kissing her again.

There was the briefest instant of resistance left in her, but once it was used up, she kissed him back.   This was a different kind of kiss, though, and when his tongue pushed for access, her lips opened, and her own tongue came to fence with his.   She felt his hands on the bottom of her slacks, and felt him pulling her into the lump about where his legs ended, and his trunk began.

When he let her go, she rose up on her elbows, which were supported by his chest, and looked down at him, her eyes wide.

"Good morning, Darling," he said, grinning.

"Good morning ... Dear."  She emphasized the last word, making it sarcastic rather than a term of endearment.  "You're awfully bold this morning."

"I was motivated," he said.  "It isn't often a beautiful woman comes into my bedroom and gets within my reach."

She thought about the fact that, within the last twelve hours two women had come to his bedroom, and gotten within his reach.  She realized she was grinding her pussy against that lump, and stopped.

"You're wrinkling my outfit," she pouted.

"Take it off," he suggested.

"Not now, you goofy man!" she said.  She let her face down and licked his chin, amazed that she'd done it.  "Get up!   We need to get breakfast and get on the road!"

"Kansas City's only four hours away," he said.  "If you're driving, maybe less than that."

She tried to look stern.  "Are you saying I have a lead foot?"

His hands squeezed her butt.  "Well, there's no lead here, that's for sure."

She wiggled off of him, taking entirely too long, and struggling entirely too much, considering that he wasn't trying to keep her there at all.  She managed to rub most of her body against him as she got off.

She got serious, then, looking down at him.  Very slowly she reached for the sheet that was covering him, and pulled it down.   He lay there, not moving, as more and more of his body was uncovered.

There it was.  For the first time she got to actually see it.   It looked as hard as it had felt, the night before, in her hand.   Chester was circumcised.  This one was not.  It looked thicker than she thought possible.  She wondered if she could get it in her mouth.

Blushing at the thought, she looked back up at his face.  He was smiling, and those blue eyes were warm and inviting.

"Get up," she said.  "We're not supposed to act married until we get there."

"Your wish is my command," he said, gallantly, as his feet swung over the edge of the bed.

She backed up, almost timidly as he stood, her eyes riveted on the thing that stuck straight out from his loins.  Chester's always drooped, even years ago, when she could still get it stiff.  This one didn't droop, and she felt a rush of passion that told her to get out, before she did something foolish.

She saw him coming toward her, and instinct told her he was going to kiss her again.  She darted to the door and half closed it, putting it between them, with her head peeking around the edge.

"You just get dressed," she ordered.  Then, just before she shut the door, she paused.

"Thank you for last night," she said.  "You were right."

====================================

This day, she chose the 1965 Bentley Flying Spur.   It was long, and sleek, with maroon sides, and a pearl white hood and roof.  It just screamed "MONEY!" and she knew that.    Once they packed, and were on the road, the V-8 purred with power, but she drove with just one hand, the power steering making it simple for her.

"Nice car," said Bobby.

"Thank you," she said.  "Have you ever driven one?"

He laughed.

She looked over at him.  "You'll need to drive in Kansas City.  It would be expected for the husband to drive."

"This is too precious to risk me driving it," he said.  "Especially in a big city, with big city traffic."

"We must be convincing," she said firmly.

He drove, from Topeka on.  The car handled marvelously, and responded to his foot with more power than seemed actually necessary.  It was a joy go drive, though watching her drive it had been fun too.  Now she got to watch him, and the fluttery feeling in her belly, that told her tonight would be very intense, somehow, made her anticipation grow.

They arrived in style.  A bell hop scurried to get their luggage, while another came to get the car and park it in the garage.  She had booked a suite, long before she had known Bobby would be coming with her.  She stood, looking at the lone bed, and the flutters started up again.  She'd forgotten about that, in the run-up to this moment.   She realized it didn't matter, and went to see if the rest of the room was suitable.   She'd also forgotten to talk to Bobby about tipping, and turned to see him handing money to the bell hop, who was grinning from ear to ear.  She'd given him five hundred dollars in cash, to carry during the trip.

Then they were alone in the room.

"This is really nice," he said, looking around.  "I hope ten dollars wasn't too much to tip him."

"You have a friend for life," she said, wryly.  "And, you have ensured we'll get the best service."

"What now?" he asked.

She knew what SHE wanted right now, but she controlled herself.

"Some of the others might be in the bar," she said.  "We could go down and see, and be seen."

"You people have funny rules," he said, smiling.

"I suppose I'm putting on airs," she said.  "I shouldn't, huh?"

"Probably not," he said.  "You want them to envy you, not hate you."

"Why do I want them to envy me?" she said, more to herself than to him.   "I'm lucky.  I have everything a woman could want.  My life is easy.  I should be happy I'm so lucky, instead of flaunting it."

"Do you have everything you want?" he asked.

"Of course," she said.  "What could I possibly desire that I don't have?"

"Children?" he asked.

She blinked.  She'd gotten so used to the idea that Chester could never give her children that she'd put that out of her mind.

"I have plenty of time for that," she said.  "I'm young, but Chester isn't.   One day I'll think about children, perhaps."

"What if he lives to be a hundred?" asked Bobby.  "I wouldn't put it past him.  He's a heck of a guy."

"Yes, he is," said Felicity, feeling warmth surge through her at the thought of her husband.   She could never have asked for a more loving man, even though he was too old to give her a family.  He was so loving that he sent her off to enjoy being with a younger man, knowing, somehow, that she needed that, or at least a taste of that.  The taste she'd already gotten was deliciously tantalizing.  The thought of drinking more deeply was tantalizing too.  

And, what made her happiest of all, was that she was already thinking of what she'd do for Chester, when she got finished drinking..

She was thinking so much about that, that she completely forgot to answer Bobby's question.

=================================

It turned out there were, indeed, three of her old friends in the bar.  She took time to survey him, and push that troublesome forelock back up above his brow, before taking him to introduce to her friends.

Bobby didn't even try to keep up with the names, since they had spouses with them too, and he knew there would be more.  She had said her graduating class had more than four hundred students in it, and about two thirds of them were expected to show up for this reunion.

Even though they had practiced what they'd do, he took some of his cues from the others at the big table they ended up at.  Two of the men didn't touch their wives at all.  One held his wife's hand, and the other couple entertwined arms.

He let the buzz of the catching up go in one ear and out the other.  He was just window dressing, in this situation, and he sipped  a Coke slowly as those who knew each other did the talking.  At one point, when her hand was lying on the table, he covered it with his, interlacing fingers.  She gave him a little squeeze, but went on talking.

They had dinner, and were joined by another couple, who came in and saw the group.    A band started playing and one of the men got up and pulled his wife to the dance floor.   Bobby stood, and held out his hand.  Felicity excused herself from the conversation and melted into his arms.   It was slow music, and she lay her head on his chest.

"Having fun so far?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, squeezing his shoulder.

"Good."

She looked up at him, smiling, and he gave her a quick, warm kiss.

"You did that perfectly," she said, smiling.  She reached up to brush his forelock back.

"You make it easy," he replied.

A man she'd known in school asked her to dance, and she turned, a little nervously to Bobby.  He waved and told her to go on.  The man's wife was asked to dance by another man, and soon everybody was dancing with everybody else.  The woman Bobby asked to dance had been one of the ones talking the most.  She was a little plump, but light on her feet.

"You dance divinely," she said.

"Thank you," he replied.

"I think Felicity was very lucky to find you," she flirted.

"On the contrary," he said, smiling.  "I'm the lucky one."

"You're rich, aren't you?" she asked, not realizing she was being rude.  In her world, she didn't know any rich people ... didn't know the "rules" of interacting with them.  "I can tell," the woman went on.  

"I've been lucky in other ways too," he said.

"Felicity looks so good," the woman said.  

"She's beautiful," Bobby agreed.

Then the dancing was over for a while, as people returned to desert, or drinks, and the inevitable telling of tales, and remembering of events long past.

They got back to the room late, but there wasn't anything scheduled until ten the next morning.  There was to be a reception at the school, and the alumni would be treated to seeing what had changed, and what hadn't.

"You go first," said Bobby, offering Felicity the bathroom.   Both wanted to shower after the dancing, and the close, smoky room.

She was in there a surprisingly short time.  She'd had her hair cut and styled in a shag, so that she could take less time to fix it up, and be able to wash it easily.   Bobby knew that her new attitude was real, when she came out wearing a translucent gown.   It was respectable, as far as having both a bra and panty, but there was very little of either.   The bra wasn't quite a demi, as her nipples were barely covered.  The gown was cut oddly, hanging long in the back, but rising as it came around the sides, to leave her thighs bare in the front.  

She was nervous.  She stopped, waiting for some kind of response from him.

"Beautiful," he sighed.

"Jenny ... she's one of the women you danced with ... she and I were friends in school.  Jenny said you said I was beautiful."

"You are," he said.  "Especially in that."

"Thank you," she said.  "You can have the bathroom now."

He went in, took his shower, and came out naked, rubbing a towel over his head, all within ten minutes.  She was artfully lying on the bed, flipping through a magazine of some sort.  She looked up at him, and her eyes widened.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her eyes raking over his body.  His penis was soft.

"Acting like a husband," he said, finishing with the towel and tossing it on the arm of a chair.

"Aren't you going to wear ... something ... to bed?" she asked.

"Was I wearing anything in bed the last time you saw me in bed?" he asked.

"Well, no ... but that was after ... I mean Annie had just been there, and ... you sleep naked!?"

He stopped, standing with his hands on his hips.  He looked like a gladiator to her.   "Usually," he said.  "I can wear something if it will make you less nervous."

"Are we going to ... do anything?" she asked, a little breathlessly.

"I don't know," he said, as if it didn't matter.

"How can you not know?" she asked.

He came to the bed and lay down on it, on his side, resting his head on his hand, his elbow on the bed.

"I don't know, because you are in charge here," he said softly.  "I'm play acting ... remember?"

"But last night ..." she moaned.

"Last night you needed to relax.  I helped you relax."

She was quiet for a moment, remembering the silly thoughts she'd had when she stormed out.

"I thought you didn't want me last night," she said softly.

"Oh, I wanted you," he said.  "But it wasn't time."

"Is it time now?" she asked, her voice higher than usual.

"I don't know," he said again.

She felt frustration.  She had been anticipating this all day long.

"When will you know?" she asked.

He changed the subject on her.

"Are you going to sleep in that?" he asked.  She was still wearing all of the outfit.

"No, of course not," she said.  "I sleep naked too ... at home."

"Why did you think it was odd that I'd sleep naked?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said.  "You just seem like a pajama kind of man to me."

"Why do women buy things like that, to wear from the bathroom to the bed, but not sleep in it?" he asked.

"We like it when men take them off of us, silly," she said.

"I see."  

"Are you going to take it off of me?" she asked, sounding very young.

"Mm hmm", he said, nodding.

"When?"

"You know what I think?" he said.

"No!" she yipped.  "How am I supposed to know what you think when you don't act like I expect you to act?"  The frustration was clear in her voice.

He grinned.   "I think ... maybe ... you're ready now."

=====================================

She didn't quite know what to expect.  It had been ten years since she was with anyone near her own age.   For four years she had been only with a man whose mind was willing, but whose body failed him.

She was astounded by how erotic she felt, as he removed her lingerie.  He was very deliberate about it, moving slowly, savoring each inch of flesh that he exposed.  He kissed everywhere on her too, sometimes using his tongue to lick her, until she was crazy to feel him against her.   

When he crawled between her legs, and dipped his face to the place she so loved to have Chester's lips, it was completely different.  Chester made her feel good.  He gave her orgasms.  This was so different that the two didn't compare at  all.   Bobby slid his hands under her butt, and his strength pulled her against his mouth in a way that made her feel helpless, as she had two orgasms in a row.  He lavished attention on her breasts, and got to his knees, to show her his erection.

"This, is what you do to me," he said, his voice husky.

She felt something akin to awe, at being told she was responsible for something so handsome ... so impressive ... so large, to her eyes, that she was momentarily panic stricken that it wouldn't fit ... if he EVER got around to using it!

He teased her with it, moving to use the tip to play with her nipples.  He moved it to her mouth, and she turned her head.

"I don't want it there," she panted.  "That's for later."

"Where do you want it?" he teased.

"You know," she moaned.

"Are you ready?" he teased.

"I'm dying!" she yelled.

Then he teased her by sliding it up and down her slippery slit, pressing in a little, only to pull it back out and diddle her clit with it.  She finally reached for the skin on his sides, the only place he had a shred of extra skin, and tried to dig her nails into it.

"Ow," he said, leaning down to kiss her.

It was while she was trying to suck his tongue into her mouth, that he finally gave her what she was desperate for.

"Oooofff" she gasped into his mouth.

He pulled his face up a little, staring down at her with those devastating blue eyes.

"Ohhhh," she groaned.  "Ahhhhhh"

Her hips wiggled.  She felt like someone had pushed a ball bat into her.

"You're so big," she groaned.

"I'm completely normal," he said.  "You're just not used to it."

"You're so long," she moaned, as her hips tried to wiggle.

"You want me to take it out?" he asked.

Her legs whipped up to cross over his thighs.

"You do and I'll kill you!" she gasped.  "With my bare hands," she moaned, digging her fingernails into his back.

"How bout if I take it out," he said, pulling most of it out of her, despite her leg lock.  She opened her mouth to complain. "And then put it back in?" he said, thrusting forward.

"Ohhhh Bobby," she moaned.  Her ears heard her words, and the memory of pressing her ear to the door, and hearing Annie say them too made her suddenly ravenous.

She pulled hard with her legs, trying to get him deeper into her, and then whipped her legs off of him, digging her heels in to use them to lift them both as high as her muscles would let her.

"Yes," he said, kissing her.  "I think you're ready.

Then he fucked her.   There is no other description for it.  There was little tenderness as he repeatedly thrust deep into her, moving faster and faster until her breasts jiggled like Jell-O as he held himself up off her and pounded her.    He had rested, not having had sex for several days, hoping to be able to do this to this woman, and he worked hard, breaking a sweat as he worked her over.

For Felicity, it was as if she had been blind, but could suddenly see.  The colors in her mind were brighter, and her nerves jangled as she was treated to something she had been unable to anticipate.  His prick seemed to touch her everywhere at once.   She felt helpless again, but didn't care, as he whole body was shaken.  Then he pushed in deep, and rotated his loins, making her clit howl.  His chest came down on hers, squashing her firm breasts and his lips sucked the breath from her as he kissed her on her lips, chin and cheeks.   

She lost count of the orgasms.  In fact, one of her complaints, later, would be that she couldn't concentrate on enjoying one, before another was there, hammering at her.   What she remembered most, after that first session, was that it was like being on a roller coaster ride, where she couldn't get her breath, and couldn't prepare for the next drop, because drops were all there were.

His sudden stop, and the groan of sweet agony that burst from his throat were all the warning she had, when she suddenly felt a ball of heat, deep inside her.  It came in pulses, and seemed to expand until she thought her whole belly was on fire.  She realized it was his essence, being spurted into her by that beautiful thing he had finally let her have.   He grunted again, and this time she could feel his penis swell as it spurted once more.  This was something that Chester had never been able to give her.  Her mind corrected her immediately.  This was what Chester had just given her.  He had made this possible.

As much as she loved the feel of Bobby's warm sperm, soaking her pussy, she loved her husband more, for letting her feel it.

In all the changes that had taken place in Felicity, in the past two weeks, and with all the turmoil in her emotional existence, she can, perhaps, be forgiven for never once thinking that, while Chester couldn't get her pregnant ... that was not the case with Bobby.

Chapter Nine

Felicity didn't think about the possible consequences of their actions for three more days, in fact.   As far as she was concerned, the reunion was a fabulous success.   All her girlfriends ooed and ahhed over her handsome husband, and her good fortune in marrying a man who became wealthy.  Two asked to borrow him, and she was both horrified and elated by their obvious lust for Bobby.

Once she had drunk from Bobby's well, she was continually thirsty.  Even after he took her so roughly, that first time, once she'd had half an hour to recuperate, she needed him again.  When, this time, he was so gentle and caring, bringing her to her pinnacle slowly and whispering how much he loved doing this with her, she cried tears of happiness.   She woke up horny, and he made love to her for an hour.  For the rest of the day she was almost always in a state of horny anticipation for the next time she might be able to sip, or drink deeply.   

That day she sipped repeatedly, taking him back to the hotel between events, to  change clothes, and always ending up spread on the couch, or on the bed, and once taken from behind as he bent her over a chair.   His inventiveness astonished her.   That night he took her standing up, but didn't finish, and didn't let her finish either, pulling out to pull her into the Jacuzzi in the room, where he had her straddle him, and let her ride herself to two orgasms, while he suckled at her nipples.    

That, it turned out, was only the appetizer.    When they went to bed, he made it last for forty minutes, bringing her close, and then stopping to spend time kissing her, before starting again.   She begged him shamelessly to let her cum, and he did, but then kept going, to stop again when she was ready to cum again.   She was, at the same time, frustrated ... eager to have another orgasm as his thick stalk massaged her pussy ... and thankful beyond measure that he was extending her pleasure for so long.   

Finally, he let her have three orgasms in a row, and his grunt of completion was music to her ears as she felt him swell and pulse inside her.

The next morning, she knew her pussy had adjusted to him, because, when he pulled her on top of him, she slid down onto him easily.  Both sighed with relief, because both had awakened horny.    She rode him for half an hour and realized that he had, somehow, taught her to bring herself to the razor's edge of a hard cum and then stop, to feel a kinder, gentler orgasm wander through her loins, as she lay down on him, or sat still.   As it waned, all she had to do was move a little more, and it returned.    Instead of having one bone-wrenching orgasm, that lasted twenty seconds, she managed to make a delicious electric tingle last for almost half an hour.

Then he rolled her over, and pinned her to the bed, while his balls pumped her full of thick spunk.

She made herself wait, that day, until lunch, to take him back to the hotel and, instead of eating, she rode him again, doing exactly the same thing she'd done that morning ... making it last in a way that extended her pleasure long past when most men would have been done.

The closing ceremonies done and, knowing that, the next day, they'd check out and return to Granger, she explored his penis with her eyes, fingers and mouth.   She sucked at him, playing with the hard thing, while he settled her pussy onto his mouth and licked her for an hour.

They made love four times that night, sleeping in between.   The last time she woke him, he warned her that they had to drive, and she said they'd stay another day, to rest.   He laughed and said he hadn't gotten any rest since coming to the city.    She made him be quiet with her lips on his, and tugged and pulled until he slid into her, and, once again, took her to a place she hadn't known existed, until this trip.

In the morning, though, it was as if both of them knew that the fever had run its course.    She woke first, and lay on her side, watching him sleep.  She reached out to push his forelock back.   When he opened his eyes, she kissed him and they talked.    

"I wish it weren't going to be over," she said, softly.

"Nothing lasts forever," he said.  "You've had a vacation of sorts, and been rejuvenated a little, but they need you back there, and you need to be there for them.

"Everything will be the same," she sighed.

"Not at all," he argued.  "Everything will be different."

"How can that be?" she asked.

"Things have happened to you.  You've lived some life since going away.   They have all lived their lives too.   The world has changed, and you've changed with it.  When you go back everything may LOOK the same.  Ramona and Annie will be there, and Chester, and the house.    But you'll see them just a little differently, because you have changed.  And, if you look for the changes in them, you'll see them differently too, just like you were amazed at the changes in your old friends.

"But I'll miss you," she said.  She frowned.  "I told Chester this would happen."

"What happened?" he asked.  

"I've fallen in love with you," she said.  "I told him it would happen, because I couldn't conceive of being intimate with a man, unless I loved him, and I knew, even then, that I wanted to be intimate with you."

"You fought it long enough," he said, grinning and kissing her nose.

"That's because I didn't understand ... or believe.   I couldn't understand how Chester could want this for me, and I couldn't believe that you would offer me something based on what I needed."

"What changed?" he asked.

"That night, when you said I wasn't ready.  I was furious with you.  I felt rejected.  But, as soon as I lay down with Chester, I knew you were right ... that I'd have felt guilty.   You had given me only what I needed, which was some intimacy that left me with a shred of virtue that was very important to me.  You gave me a sip of water, when gulping it would have made me sick."

"I want to disagree with you on one thing," he said.

"What?"

"You haven't fallen in love with me.   What you've fallen in love with is the ability to share love with me ... to be able to give and take in a way that, before, wasn't permitted.  You still love Chester, don't you?"

More, now than ever," she said firmly.

"Chester is your true love," he said.  "What I am is a good friend, who loves you as a person, and accepts the same love from you.   We have made each other happy, these last two days, and that has made us closer than most friends."

"But I FEEL like I love you," she said.

"If Chester died tomorrow, would you think about marrying me?"

She was so used to telling him the truth that it came easily to her.  "No," she said.  She felt bad about it instantly. 

"Why?" he asked.

"I don't want to hurt your feelings," she said.

"I don't want to marry you either, Darling," he said, using the language they had gotten used to over the last seventy-two hours.

She realized he was just being honest too.

"Our lives are too different," she said.  "Our interests are different."  She frowned.  "If I could, I'd make love to you every day, but I don't think of you as a potential husband.  Is that strange?"

"I understand completely," he said.  That's my point.  You DO love me, and I love you, but not in the sense that you were afraid of, and that you warned Chester of."

She blinked.  "You're right!"  She looked amazed.  "I love you ... but that's not a threat to anything!"

They talked a little longer and then fell silent.   She wanted to make love one more time, because, when she got home, it would be over.  But the mood was wrong, and she knew it.   They got dressed and went down to the hotel restaurant for breakfast.

Then there was checking out, and getting everything in the car again, before they were finally on the road.   She drove, going home, since there was no longer anyone to act for.  She wished he could move over to sit beside her, but the Bentley had individual seats in the front.

Bobby was napping, and, as she drove along, she had time to think about the events of the weekend, and she sat back in her seat, her mind handling the requirements of keeping the car in the middle of the lane.  She felt a surge of erotic tension as she relived various portions of Bobby's lovemaking.  It was then, while she was remembering the warm ball she had felt so often in her belly, as he spurted in her, that she remembered she was a woman, and he was a man, and that one purpose of this activity was to create new life.

Her eyes opened wider in shock.  How could she have possibly forgotten that?  Her memory kicked into another mode.  When was her last period?  She hadn't paid much attention to them ... not for years.  They were just an annoyance that came along every so often.

When was it?  She actually could not remember!  She knew she hadn't had one in the last two weeks while she was "training" Bobby, but that was all.  It probably didn't matter anyway.  One didn't get pregnant every time one was capable of getting pregnant.  That was obvious.  The world would be overflowing with children if that were the case.   She went back to reflecting on how wonderful Bobby had made her feel.   When she got back, Chester would want to know, and this time, she'd be able to tell her husband how happy he'd made her.

She made it within fifteen miles of Granger before she couldn't take it any longer.   She saw a picnic pullout, with a little shelter and two trash barrels.  She looked at Bobby, who had awakened when she pulled off the highway.

"Have you ever made love in a Bentley?" she asked.

====================================

An hour later, Felicity Chumley pulled onto the pink granite paving stones in front of her home to find her eighty-year-old husband waiting for her, with open arms.  As he hugged him and kissed him, she said she'd missed him horribly.  In that she was completely honest, and he knew it.

She turned to Bobby and pushed his forelock back up, almost a habit now, and thanked him for helping her have a wonderful weekend.   Then, right in front of everyone, she kissed Bobby one last time.  

Apparently forgetting all about Bobby, she turned to kiss her husband again.   She was anxious to take her husband to bed, even though, as she kissed him, she had another man's sperm soaking into her womb.

======================================

It was good that the reunion hadn't lasted another day, or been scheduled for later than it was.   Bobby hadn't been home for more than three hours when Mirriam's water broke.

It was the first day of August, and Bobby's genetic dominance was further punctuated, when, after a labor of only four hours, Mirriam pushed out her second son.  He looked like he was the twin of Kyle, or Jordan, or Steven.  His hair was coal black and he had a strong chin, even for a baby.   His mother took one look at him and knew it was Bobby, and not Ted, who had fathered this child.  She would have loved her new son in either case.  She was worried about Ted, though.  He had been so hopeful.   She solved the dilemma by naming her son Theodore Joseph ... Theodore, after Ted, of course, and Joseph to honor Joe's memory.

Ted was elated, when he found out what she'd named him, but, as soon as he held the baby, he seemed to know.

"Maybe the next one could be mine," he said, cuddling the baby as if it were his.

"I don't think there can be a next one," said Mirriam.  "This one almost killed me."

"I know," said Ted.  "Prudence feels the same way.

"I'll go on the pill for you," said Mirriam.

"Thanks," he said, smiling.  "And I'll take you up on that.  But it won't be the same.  I always loved it that you let me ... that you'd risk me getting you pregnant."   He handed her son back to her.   "But I love being with you under any circumstances."

=======================================

When Bobby got back home, he had three horny women waiting for him.   

Flo, confused by the feelings she had for Ted, needed his attention, and claimed him first.   None of her sisters, she thought, knew that Bobby was actually fucking her.  In the past, it had become routine for two or more of them to come "kiss him goodnight" together, and that complicated things for Flo, because she wanted time alone with him so she could spread her legs and let him soothe her jangled emotions.

Bev, who had done everything in the world with him except let him fuck her, was getting more and more nervous, as her older sister Mary had, about her impending marriage, in September.  She wanted time alone with Bobby for the same reasons Flo did.

Linda, used to getting her pussy stuffed several times a week, and now even more infatuated with Paul Engle, just wanted to feel Bobby's prick in her pussy again.

It all came to a head the first night he was back, after his mysterious trip.   All three women showed up at his room, and all three women tried her best to get the other two to leave.

Bobby heard the argument, outside his door, and got up to open it.

"Don't stand out there and yell," he said, calmly.  "You'll wake up Mamma, or the baby."

They filed inside and he asked them what the problem was.

None of them, of course, wanted to admit to the others why they wanted to be alone with Bobby.

Bobby, though, was pretty sure he knew what the problem was, and he solved it by simply telling Flo to take her nightgown off and get on the bed.

Then, in front of the other two sisters, he calmly mounted her.   

She tried to make it look like she was resisting, or had never done this before, but it was fairly obvious to the other two women that this wasn't her first time having complete sex.    Linda felt only anticipation, because if he'd do this to Flo in front of them, he'd do it to her too.  She didn't worry about Bev.   Bev watched closely as she saw her sister getting what she had come for this night.  She was still nervous about it, but this made her less so.

Bobby went long enough to give Flo two orgasms, and then got off of her.  She was relaxed and happy again, so he sat on his high backed chair, which he had used at his desk when he was still in school, and had Linda sit on his lap, facing him.   She was just as enthusiastic, thought Bev, as her sister had been.  Bev felt a little miffed that she'd been left out.

When Linda was taken care of, Bobby stood to face Bev, who was suddenly wary.

"Are you ready to find out what married life will be like?" he asked.

She bit her lip, but nodded.

Flo got up, to give Bev her place, and Bobby got Bev delirious by teasing her for twenty minutes before he slid into her.  He'd had two fingers in her before, preparing her for this very thing, and there was little pain for her.   She turned out to be just as enthusiastic, babbling about how she loved Bobby, and would he please never stop doing this to her.  She got his load of heavy spunk, and loved that too.

Then Bobby negotiated different nights for each girl.  All of them resisted that, because they all wanted to be able to come to him whenever they felt like it.  Bobby, though, wanted to be able to fill each one of them with sperm, and he couldn't do that if they came at the same time, or two closely together.

Bobby got his way.

======================================

September was another of those pivotal months in the life of Bobby Dalton, his family, and the other women who loved him, and what he did for them.

Jill had his daughter on the fifteenth, and named her Jillian.  Like his other daughters, she had light hair, that was curly and fine.   Bobby visited as soon as they'd let him, and held the baby, as he had held so many others.   Jill was elated, and her eyes, while she held her baby and looked at Bobby, were warm.   Before he left, she was already planning for a bigger family.

Mirriam, who would have sworn that Bobby sucked as much milk from her breasts as his son, Theodore, soon realized that she would be unable to resist either him, or Ted, and finally got the doctor to write her a prescription for birth control pills.  She wanted to get that started while she still wasn't allowed to have sex, because as Bobby sucked at her nipples, she was already thinking about the first day she'd be able to let him between her thighs, to make her feel good both high and low while he sucked.

Ted was finally able to get Flo to talk to him about what had happened in the kitchen, right after her mother had given birth.  She admitted that she liked him, apologizing all the time.  He admitted that he was very attracted to her too.   They couldn't agree on what that meant.  Both were worried about how Mirriam would feel, if they explored that attraction.    His admission that he'd loved that single kiss, though, resulted in Flo having an unscheduled late night session with Bobby.

Perhaps the biggest stone that got thrown in the September pond, though, was when Bobby got a call, requesting that he come back out to Chumley Manor.

His first clue that all was not well, was when Annie met him at the door, but was subdued ... almost formal.   She took him to the library, where Chester sat in the same chair as before.  There was neither cigar, nor brandy on the table next to him.  As before, he didn't rise to greet his guest.

Bobby felt a little better when Chester waved him to a chair.

"I'll get right to the point," he said.  "Felicity is pregnant."

"I see," said Bobby.

"How do you feel about that?" asked the old man.

"I think that's a pretty strange question to ask a man who has gotten your wife with child," Bobby answered.  "I think, more to the point, that the important thing is how YOU feel about it."

Chester sat there for a minute as his thumb and forefinger came up to stroke his chin.

"Well," he said finally, "I personally, am delighted.  Unfortunately, I can't say the same thing about Felicity."

"I see," said Bobby again.  "May I ask why you are so happy?"

"Of course," said Chester.  "I can't give her children.  I have no heirs.  I was trying to figure out what the hell am I going to do with all my money, and then, like a gift from the sky, this reunion business came up and I had my answer."

"You planned this?" asked Bobby, surprised.

"Well, to say I planned it is a little ambitious," said Chester, smiling.  "Let's just say that the research I did on you let me to believe that you might provide a solution to my dilemma."

"Couldn't you have just left it all to Felicity?" asked Bobby.

"Of course," said the shrewd old codger.  "But then some young buck would have just tried to get her, and get it away from her.  If she has children, she'll be a bit more careful about who she chooses to replace me, when I'm gone."

"I'm not so sure she'll try to replace you," said Bobby.  "She loves you very much."

"I know, I know," said Chester.  "I know how that feels.  But I also know that life needs to go on, for those who are left behind.   I want her to have something to concentrate on besides the fact that I died.  Children would provide that, and give me somebody to establish trust funds for and all that sort of thing.  It makes an old man feel better when he can establish trust funds and such.  You'll understand that some day, I imagine."

"What do you want me to do?" asked Bobby.

"Talk to her.  She's been in a funk ever since she found out.  I have a feeling you have what it takes to get her back on track."

"I'd be happy to talk to her," said Bobby, "if she'll let me.  She's a strong woman."

"I'm well aware of that, young man," chuckled her husband.

Bobby got up.

"One other thing," said Chester.

Bobby turned.

"You might have a word with Annie too.   It seems she, too, is with child.  I've already told her I'll take care of her.  She's a sweet young thing.  She wouldn't admit to he who the father is, and said she wouldn't marry him even if he asked her.  She says she's too young to pick a man yet.   She seems a little dazed by it all.   I thought you might be able to share your insights with her on how to adjust to the situation."

"You're a very kind man, Sir," said Bobby.

"When you've been around as long as I have," said Chester, "you learn to celebrate things in life, which is very short, oddly enough.

==================================

Chester told Bobby that Felicity was probably in the atrium, an open air garden in the middle of the house that he hadn't known existed, until he explored and found it.  She was sitting on a bench, staring at nothing.  She looked over at him as he closed the door to the house that led to the garden.  She had been crying, and her eyes were still red.

"You made me pregnant!" It was almost, but not quite a yell.

"If you're pregnant, then yes, I did," he said.

She was angry immediately.

"I AM pregnant!  Don't you try to weasel out of this!"

"I'm not trying to avoid anything," he said.  "It's only been a little over a month.  Sometimes women skip periods."

"Not me," she said, dismally.  "Besides, I've already been to the doctor."

"Congratulations," he said.

She almost fell over in shock.  She weaved back, and reached to catch herself on the edge of the bench.

"How can you SAY that?!" she yelled.

"I think babies are a gift," he said.  "You'll make a wonderful mother.  I'm proud that you're having my baby."

"You are just IMPOSSIBLE!" she yelled, jumping up.  She stalked over to him.  "I'M MARRIED!"

"Actually," he said, not ruffled at all, "I think Chester will make a pretty good father too.  He's a very wise man."

"But he's not the father!" she moaned.  "YOU are!"

She blinked, and her hands waved in the air.

"And ANNIE!   You got HER pregnant TOO!"

"I didn't mean to do that," he said.  "I'll have to talk to her about that."

"What do you mean you didn't mean to?"  She seemed confused.  "Does that mean you DID mean to get me pregnant?"

"Sit down," he said.  "Let's talk."

"I don't want to talk to you," she said, pouting.

"I pretended to be your husband, and this happened.    You're going to have to talk to me a lot, in years to come," he said.  "I feel very good about Chester pretending to be the official father of my baby, but that doesn't mean I'm just going to walk away and pay no attention to my child.   Sit down, and let's talk this out."

She pouted some more, but eventually went to the bench to sit.

"Why are you so upset about this?" he asked.  "Haven't you talked to Chester about it?"

"Of course," she said.  "I had to tell him.   He's trying to make me feel better, but I know he's lying."

"Lying about what?"

"He says he's happy about it."  She frowned.  "How could he possibly be happy about me being pregnant by another man?"

"Did he tell you why he was happy?"

"He was talking, but I was crying.  I didn't hear him.  It doesn't matter.  I'm pregnant and he's hurt.  I know he is. I can never undo this.  How could I have been so STUPID?"

"Well, there's something we agree on," said Bobby.

"What?" she asked.

"That you're stupid."

"Why did you say that?" she cried.

"Because if you were smart, you'd have listened to your husband.  He was trying to tell you why he's happy about this.  He told me.  I understand completely how he feels.   If anybody should have run the other way, it should have been me, but I stayed to hear him out.  You should have too."

"What did he say?" she whined.  

"When he couldn't give you the kind of passion he felt you deserved ... what did he do?" asked Bobby.

"He gave me ... you," she said meekly.

"Were you happy about that?" he asked.

"I WAS happy," she pouted.

"Was HE happy, when you got back?

Her eyes went unfocused.  "Yes," she said softly.  "It was wonderful.  We hadn't been like that in years."

"What else can't he give you?" asked Bobby.

"I don't know," she said miserably, looking down at the ground.

"Babies," said Bobby.

She had been almost rocking, but she stopped.  Her eyes came up to his, wide and shocked.

"He planned this?" she gasped.

"No," said Bobby.  "But he knew it could happen and, since it has, he's happy about it.  He's going to have an heir.  That's important to him.  It's something he's been worried about."

"Why didn't he SAY something?" she yelped.  "He never told me he wanted babies!"

"What was he supposed to say?   'Honey, I have no heirs, and cannot produce one with you.  I think you should go get knocked up by a stranger ... OK Darling?'   I don't think you'd have reacted well to that at all."

"Of course not!" she gasped.

"As he sees it, what happened was good for both of you," said Bobby.  "He ended up with the best of both worlds, and you had a good time making a baby.   It solved both his problems."

"But I didn't think I'd get pregnant," she moaned.  "I didn't think about it at all, really."  She frowned.  "What if I HADN'T gotten pregnant?" she asked.

"I suspect that he'd have asked you to invite me over, occasionally, to ... refresh ... your passion."  Bobby held up his hand when her mouth came open and added:  "I don't know that.  I just think he'd have thought of that, eventually."

"So I'm just a pawn, to give him an heir?"  She looked like she was going to start crying again.

"You know better than that!" said Bobby sternly.  "He's worried about what will happen to you when he's gone.   He could leave you everything, but then every treasure hunting man in the state would hound you, trying to take it away from you.  You'd be single, and wealthy.  They'd try anything to get to you."    He took a breath, and went on.  "But ... if you have a family ... children ... you'll be grounded in that.   You'll be thinking of your children, when you decide what to do.  He thinks you'll make better decisions ... be better protected from predators.   I think he has a point."

"He told you that?"  Her voice was very quiet.

"I suspect he tried to tell you that too," said Bobby.  "He loves you.  You're no pawn.  He wants only the best for you.   There are no children from his first marriage ... right?"

She shook her head.  "He's always been sad about that."

"And now, out of the blue, he sees a chance to rectify that ... even though he can't be the biological father."  He stood up.  "You remember the conversation we were having in the hotel room, that first night?  Children were mentioned.  You said you had plenty of time, and I asked you what would happen if he lived to be a hundred.  You never answered that, Felicity.   This baby ... the one we made ... If Chester lives to be ninety, this baby will be ten years old ... twenty, if he lives to be a hundred.  This baby will have grown up knowing Chester as his father, and Chester will have enjoyed ... being a father.   If this hadn't happened, and Chester lived to be hundred, you'd be over forty.  How much time would you have left to have children then?  My mother is that age, and just had a baby.  It almost killed her."

She sat, thinking.  

"I never thought of it that way," she said.  She looked at Bobby, and her hand came up to brush back his forelock, automatically.  "He really said that?"

"Why don't you go let him say it to you?" suggested Bobby.  "I need to find Annie."

Felicity's face took on a hint of a smile.  "She and I will deliver about the same time," she said.  "It's like having a sister, almost."

He turned to go.

"Wait!" she said.  He turned back.  "You said you didn't mean to get Annie pregnant.  I asked you if you meant to get ME pregnant.  You never answered me."

"I told you, sometimes you might not like the answers to your questions," he reminded her.

"Tell me!" she said, her voice strident.  "While we were making love ... all those times ... were you thinking of the possibility I might get pregnant?"

Bobby opened the door.  He looked back.  

"Every time we made love, I hoped I was making you pregnant."

Chapter Ten

Annie was in the kitchen, helping Ramona get lunch ready.  When Bobby stepped in, though, it was Ramona who spoke first.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in.  You sure have stirred things up around here."

"I guess so," said Bobby.

Annie worked furiously at chopping something green.  He went over to her.

"I'm sorry," he said.  "I didn't intend for this to happen."

She looked up, her mouth a tight line.

"So you're sorry I'm having your baby," she said, flatly.

"No," he said.  She looked up shocked.  "I'm sorry that it's going to roil up your life."

"Wait a minute," she said, putting the knife down.  Bobby relaxed a little.  "You're not sorry you knocked me up ... but you're sorry it's going to mess things up for me?"

"Something like that," he said.

"I don't understand," she said.

"Well, I would never have made love to you, if I weren't comfortable with you being the mother of my child," he said.  "I think you'll be a wonderful mother.  You're bright, and cheerful.  You have a good job, and you do it very well.  I'm proud that you're going to have my baby.  I just wish that it had happened under circumstances that you'd be happier about."

"You're proud" she whispered.  "Of me?"

"Very much so," he said.

She stepped back.  Her lips went tight again.  "I won't marry you," she said.  "I'm not ready to be married."

"I'll find a way to live with that," said Bobby, trying not to smile.

"Of course," she said, practically, "I'm not ready to be a mommy either, but I don't have a choice in that any more."

"I might be able to help with that," said Bobby.  "I know a number of women who have had babies recently."

"I just bet you do!" snorted Ramona.

He ignored her.  "I can introduce you to them.  They can tell you all about it, and let you get some hands on experience in dealing with babies.  I know some other women who are about to give birth, and I'm sure they'd be happy to talk to you too."

"Do you know any women who AREN'T pregnant, or about to give birth?" asked Ramona.  He couldn't how she felt about all this.

"You," he said, smiling.

She paled, and took a step back.

"Relax, Ramona," he said, grinning.  "You don't need me."

"But Annie did?" insisted Ramona, still pale.  She was a strong woman, regardless of how she was feeling at this moment.

"Yes," said Bobby.  "I wouldn't have done that with her if she hadn't needed it."

"I did need it," said the girl, her eyes wide.  "I was feeling sorry for myself, but then, the way he was so ..."  She blushed.  "He made it obvious that he thought I was pretty, and could have any man I wanted.  I've been on cloud nine ever since."  She frowned.  "Well, until I found out I was pregnant.  I'm not so sure about that part."

"Chester told me he's going to take care of you.  You'll be able to raise the baby here, along with Felicity's.   It could be much worse," he said.  "Still, I'm sorry that you didn't want a baby."

"And Mrs. Chumley," said Ramona, still on guard.  "Did SHE want a baby?"

"She didn't know she did," said Bobby.  "I think she's finding out now."

"I don't understand," said Ramona.

"Just watch," said Bobby.  "I think her attitude might change."

==================================

Another stone thrown in September was two weeks before Bev was to get married.   She had stopped taking her birth control pills at the beginning of the month, in preparation for being fertile on her wedding night.  She thought there was some residual protection, and so, she practiced with Bobby as often as she could get him to.   The wedding was slated to be on the thirtieth.  On the fifteenth, when her period was due ... it didn't start.   It didn't start on the sixteenth, or the seventeenth either.   As it turned out, it didn't start again for more than nine months.

She never told a soul ... not even Bobby.

===========================================

Unlike her sister, Mary, she wasn't nervous on her wedding day.  That she invited Constance over to spend the night before the wedding, for one last sleepover, was a thing of friendship, and not to sooth her nerves.   She didn't want Bobby that night either.  In a strange twist, ever since she had found out Bobby had made her pregnant, she hadn't had the insane desire to have him in her, like she'd had before.  She couldn't wait to be in bed with Bill.  Having an excuse to be pregnant was only a very small part of that.   Bill had never been where Bobby had been, and she couldn't wait to see what it was like to make love to another man.

She and Constance stayed up late, talking about all manner of things, but the preparations had made her sleepy, and eventually, her head drooped.  Constance was saying something about Tim, when she fell asleep.

============================================

Constance wasn't tired.  She felt like she hadn't been tired in weeks.  Ever since that first night, in the back seat at the town square, she'd been letting Tim prod her tender pussy with his fingers.  She knew, based on the sounds and motions that he made, that an orgasm was something more than what she was feeling.  What he did felt wonderful, and she loved it, but she knew there must be more.  

Now, with her best friend sleeping, Constance's thoughts turned to another bedroom ... down the hallway ... where a man was who knew all about female orgasms.  She had watched him give them to the sleeping woman right in front of her.

She padded to his door, unembarrassed.  How could she be embarrassed with Bobby?  She had gotten over her insane crush on him, but she loved him still.  He had been the first to make her feel attractive.  He had been the first to kiss her.  Now, maybe, he could help her understand this orgasm thing.

"Bobby?" she whispered.  She could see the lump that was him, on the bed.  He seemed to be alone.  "Bobby?" she said, more loudly.

She saw the form move, and roll.  His reading light came on blindingly, in the dark.

"Connie?"

"I need to talk to you," she said.

"OK," he said, rolling over.  He was only dressed in his underwear.  Her eyes went to it, just naturally.  She'd seen his prick before, but couldn't resist looking there now.  "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said.  "I have this problem."

He patted the bed beside his hip. She sat and, unashamed, told him what was happening with her and Tim.

"You need to teach him what makes you feel good," he said softly.

"I don't KNOW what makes me feel good," she moaned. "I thought maybe you would ... help me."

"With just my fingers?" he asked.

She remembered seeing his penis, sliding in and out of her mother. It had looked huge then, and she felt a coldness seep into her chest.

"Yes!" she said.  "Just your fingers."

"Not my mouth?" he asked.

"Tim doesn't do that," she said, suddenly wondering what that would feel like.

"He's stupid, then," said Bobby.

"No he's not!" she said, defending the man she loved.

"OK," said Bobby.  "I want to kiss you, though."

"OK," she said.  That was something she'd done before, and had liked.

She'd seeh the other girls climb up on him, but she didn't think that was right, for what she wanted, so she lay beside him.  He put his arm under her, and pulled her against him, but didn't touch her otherwise, except to kiss her.

His kisses were just as electric as Tim's, and she was instantly horny, like she'd be with her boyfriend.  She felt Bobby's hand slid up her leg, and under her nightgown.

"You're wearing panties," he said, pulling back from her lips.

"Of course," she said.

"Don't you take them off with Tim?" he asked.

"I'm scared to," she said.  "He wants to have sex with me."

"All this leads to sex," said Bobby. "It's normal for both of you to want to have it."

"Not until we're married," she moaned.  "I keep my pants on.  We just push them down."

"No wonder he can't satisfy you," said Bobby.  "Honey, you have to be able to spread your legs for him."

"Ohhh," she moaned, obviously unhappy.

"I'll show you how he can do it with your panties on," said Bobby.  But you need to spread your legs."

"OK," she panted.

He slid his hand into her panties, and she lifted one leg.  His finger went into her so much deeper than Tim's, and she understood immediately what he had meant.  She felt almost foolish for not being able to figure that part out for herself.

"OK," said Bobby, as he probed her so deep that she felt an exquisite pain deep inside her.  "He needs to rub your clitty," said Bobby, moving his finger out of her, and circling her bump with one fingertip.  She hissed.  "But each clitty is a little different," said Bobby.  "Some like it like this."  His finger kept circling, and, once in a while, mashing it.  "Some like it like this," he said, rubbing his finger from side to side.

"Ahhhhhh," she moaned.  This felt so much better than what Tim did.

"Some like it like this," he said again, this time rubbing his finger up and down her slit.  That's what Tim did.

"No," she gasped.  "Not that way.  The last way."

"Like this?" he asked, adding two fingers, and rubbing sideways, back and forth.

"Yesssss," she hissed.  She could already feel the pressure that built up, when Tim rubbed her, but it felt better now.

"Then you'll want him to do it lightly, and faster," said Bobby.  "Kiss me now."

She let her lips meet his, and let his tongue into her mouth as his hand seemed to speed up, whipping back and forth.  So suddenly that she wasn't prepared for it, the dam of pressure burst inside her, and exquisite agony wracked her body.  Her mouth froze, wide open, and her eyes closed as her whold body seemed to expand, and then shrink back in, until all she could feel was the beautiful feeling where he was rubbing.

"That's my girl," he whispered, into her mouth.  "Constance needs something long and hard in her pussy ... that's what Constance needs."

She felt him slide his thick finger deep in her again, and his hand wagged back and forth, the base of his finger torturing the spot he had been rubbing more gently.

"AAAAAHHHHHHH," she groaned, and her leg clamped down on his hand.

He stopped, his finger deep inside her, and she gasped for breath.

"Was that what you had in mind?" he whispered.

"Uhhhhhh," she grunted, seeking his lips again, and kissing him half a dozen times.

"It feels just as good with a mouth on you," said Bobby.

"Ohhhhhh," she moaned, not sure she could take that feeling again.

"Let me show you," he whispered, getting up.

She felt his hands on her panties, and felt her hips lift, automatically as he dragged them to her thighs.

"Bobbeeeee," she whined.

"It's OK, baby," he said.  "I won't hurt you."

"I'm scared," she panted.

"Just one more orgasm, and then you can go to sleep."  He pulled the panties off her feet, and spread her legs.

"I don't ... I'm scared," she said, realizing that her sex was now wide open to a man.

She tensed as his head dipped, and then flopped back as his tongue made her feel simply marvelous.  He licked and sucked her through two more orgasms, but she didn't care that he'd lied to her.  She had to get Tim to do this.  This was fantastic.

He reared up, and she lifted her head to see him pushing his underwear down.

"No, Bobby!" she yipped.

"I just need to cum," he said.  "I've wanted to do that to you for years."

He started stroking his prick, and she watched, wide-eyed.

"You look so good," he huffed, staring at her pussy.  "Tim's going to be a lucky man some day."

She lay mute, almost frozen as she watched something that she knew about, but had never seen.  Somehow, when she sucked Tim, his penis seemed smaller ... less threatening.  But this long, angry looking thing was poised, just above her pussy.  Her legs were wide open.  All he had to do was fall forward.  She wouldn't be able to stop him.

"Please, Bobby," she moaned.

"I won't touch you, baby," he promised.  "I just need to cum, OK?"

"OK," she whispered.

He sped up, and his face tightened.  Then he stopped, and aimed it downward.  She saw a thick stream of white leave the tip of his penis, which was gripped tightly in his fist.  That stream hit her soft brown pubic hair, and she felt the heat if it instantly.  Another stream followed, and she felt it drench her pussy lips.

"Ohhhhh Constance," he moaned.

Her hand went to her pussy, and she felt the mess he was making there, as another long streak of white shot out of his penis and hit her hand.  She felt her bump, and her hand wagged, just like his had, almost by instinct.  She knew instantly that she could do the same thing he'd done, and she did it, full of joy that he hadn't taken her virginity.  

Her fingers flashed, and she came on them, sinking two fingers into her, like he had done, and pulling up on them, her hand still moving from side to side.

"Careful!" he whispered.  "You're getting it inside you!"

"I'm on the pill," she rasped.  "It's OK."

He sat down on his lower legs, and he let go of his penis, which hung low, now.

"It's a good thing you didn't tell me that a little while ago," he said.  "I've wanted to fuck you since the day I met you."

"You can't," she moaned, her fingers still moving slowly across her clit.

"I know," he said.  "But it would have been really hard not to if I'd have known you were safe."

"I never knew you wanted to do that," she sighed, relaxing.

"I won't," said Bobby, his voice stronger.  "You can save that for Tim."

"Thank you," she said softly.

"Now, get out of here, before my unruly friend rears his head again.  He still wants to find out what it would feel like inside you."

She jerked upright, and then saw his grin, and realized he was only teasing her.

"Now you know what to tell Tim to do," he said.

"Yes," she nodded.  "I do."

"And don't come back here," said Bobby.  "I don't know what I'd do if you came in here like this again."

"You'd never hurt me," said Constance.

"No, but why take chances?" he replied.

===============================================

The wedding went off without a hitch, from Bev's point of view.  Constance was beaming and beautiful, as was Linda, who also stood up with her.  Florence was her maiden of honor, and looked much more nervous than Bev did.  

That was because, before the wedding, while Bev was not needing Bobby, all Flo could think about was Ted.   She pulled her brother into a closet, to have him take her mind off of her mother's lover.  

She was nervous, because she could feel Bobby's semen running down her thigh, as she watched her sister get married.

==============================================

With September gone, everyone hoped that things would calm down a bit.  While it did for some, not all went smoothly.

A week into October, Bobby was, once again, summoned to the Chumley manor.  He hadn't talked to anyone associated with Felicity since leaving, after Chester told him Felicity was pregnant.  He had no idea what to expect.

What he did NOT expect was for Annie to open the door, beaming, and throw her arms around his neck, pulling his head down to kiss him very thoroughly.

"Ohhh please say yes," she moaned.

Then she broke away, grabbed his hand, and literally pulled him, once again, to the library.  Once there, she calmed, tapped, pulled the door open, and announced him.  It was familiar now, with Chester sitting in his chair, a book on his lap, and Bobby just went in and sat down across from him.

Chester looked at him with a level gaze.

"I may have miscalculated your appeal," he said.  "She won't admit it, but apparently, three days with you was not enough."

"Uh oh," said Bobby.  "Is she acting up?"

"Both of them are acting up," said Chester. 

"Both?"

"My wife is almost frantic, when we make love.  I'm afraid she's going to pull the damn thing off!   And Annie keeps dropping things.   She's as nervous as it's possible to be and not shake like a dog coming out of a pond."

"And you think this relates to me?"  said Bobby.

"I think so," said Chester.   "Thank you, by the way.  Felicity did come talk to me, like you told her to.  We got everything straightened out."

"She's impulsive," said Bobby.

"Tell me about it," said Chester, smiling.  "But there's another reason I think it relates to you," he went on.

Bobby waited.

"Working on a wild hair, I took the liberty of offering them ... you, occasionally.  I hope I haven't made a horrible mistake."

"Sir, I have no intention of trying to steal your wife."

"I know that," snorted the old man.  "What I was referring to is that I didn't negotiate that with you first.  If you don't come through for me, there may be a revolt."

"You said occasionally," said Bobby.

"One night, every other week," said Chester.  "For each of them." He sighed.  "I had to argue about that, but a man has some pride, even when he's an old fogy like me.   I'm tickled that you woke her up, and you know how I feel about the baby, but dammit, I like sleeping with my wife."

"As you should," said Bobby.

"What I quoted you just now was my final offer.  They took it."

"I see your problem," said Bobby.

"I'd have talked to you first, young man, but it was almost an emergency.  They've calmed down since then.  I think they've figured out I hadn't talked to you yet, and they're behaving themselves."  He sighed.  "So, what do you say, boy?   I'll compensate you for your time, of course."

Bobby thought.  Then he looked up.  "Mr. Chumley, the last time you hired me, I missed work.   Coming out here one night a week - I assume you were thinking of alternating schedules - wouldn't really take away from my job.  I can't really justify taking your money."

"Son, you've done more to shake things up around here than if a skunk had gotten into the house.  My wife has never been more loving.  I'm going to have a son or daughter to raise, something I never thought would happen.  Even my maid is happy all the time, except when she's missing you.   I could never repay you for what you've done here."

"Still," said Bobby.  "I can't take money for making love to your wife.  That's just ... strange."

"But you'll do it?" asked the man.

"Yes ... but no money," said Bobby.

"We'll discuss that later," said Chester.  "There will come a time when you need something.  You just remember that I owe you, and come to me when that time gets here.  Deal?"

"Deal," said Bobby.

=========================================

Both women were waiting for him outside the library doors.   Both were holding their breath, waiting to see what had happened.

Bobby looked at them and sighed.   "I suppose you've already assigned me days."

There were twin squeals of joy, and he was buried in soft arms, and soft lips, and hair that smelled good.  His hands were full of soft buttocks, and a breast here and there, as they pulled him in a circle while they celebrated.

Half an hour later, Felicity, having seniority, as she called it, lay gasping on the bed in the guest room, her legs spread, and her pussy weeping thick white spunk.

"That time doesn't count," she panted.

"Should I ask Chester about that?" he asked, putting on his shirt.

"No!" she yipped.  "Please, Bobby.  We can't decide who gets to go first."

He looked at her naked body on the bed.  "Didn't you just go first?"

"No, like I said, this one doesn't count.  I know you, Bobby.  You'll be ready to go again in fifteen minutes.   You need to do Annie today too.  She's missed you so much."

Bobby sighed.  "OK," he said.  "But I don't see how that will help.  Whoever goes first next week, the other will have to wait two weeks."

"We've ... um ... been talking about that," said Felicity.  "You just be here next Friday night.  We'll have it all worked out, OK?"

"OK," he said.

"Don't forget Annie!" she called out, as he left.

=============================================

Annie had missed him.   Once she'd figured out that her life wasn't ruined, and once Felicity figured out that she wanted to be pregnant ... for Chester ... things seemed to calm down.   That was when they began to think back on how they got pregnant.   They had compared notes, as it turned out, like they were in High School or something.   Felicity had even told Annie to call Bobby, but Annie said she couldn't do that ... wasn't going to resort to the back seat of a car, just to feel better.

Then, when Chester had made his offer, hope had sprung up in both of them, and they because thick as thieves.  Annie knew her place, as an employee, and did not take advantage of her employer's kindness.  But, at those odd times when both could somehow tell, there was a five or ten minute suspension of the social order, and they were just friends, who got pregnant by the same boy.

Annie was, therefore, exceedingly glad to see him, and to get to re-enact how she got in the condition she was in.   She also wasn't nearly as experienced as Felicity, who knew how to make love with Bobby in a way that was very efficient, in terms of producing orgasms.     Annie didn't know how to do that.

He spent an hour and a half with her.

====================

The other thing that happened in October, that would spread ripples wide, was that Ted admitted to Mirriam that he was attracted to her daughter.

Neither he, nor Florence had any idea of what to do about the awkwardness that now enmeshed them, since that night when she'd unthinkingly pulled his hands to her breasts, and he'd kissed her.   It had been an electric moment for both, and the feelings it had caused wouldn't just go away.   

One night, when Ted was staying over, Mirriam noticed that he was withdrawn, and jumpy.   She took him to bed, and he still exhibited anxious behavior.  She knew something was on his mind.  He had always been so ridiculously carefree in their relationship.   Once she had gotten over the shock of meeting a man who wanted to have a sexual relationship with two different women, who happened to be best friends, there wasn't much that he could do to shock her any more.

He'd always been a consummate lover, with that strange bent penis of his.  He was loving and caring and giving and demanding, all at the same time, and she loved being with him.  She loved making love with him too, except that, lately, she was scared to death that she'd get pregnant again.   She'd adjusted to the last one, but it had been the hardest pregnancy of her life.  She'd adjusted to being the mother of an infant again too, but she didn't want to have another one a year from now.   She was on the pill, but the doctor had warned her nothing was a hundred percent effective.

So, basically, they were both nervous.

She pulled back from a kiss.

"What's wrong?" she asked, stroking his cheek.

It was driving him crazy.  He knew he felt something for Florence.  He just didn't know what it was.   It was different from what he felt for Mirriam and Prudence.  They were just having fun.  There was no pressure, with them.  They liked him in bed, and he liked them in bed, but that was all there was, other than a very close friendship.   But this thing with Flo felt different, somehow, but he couldn't do anything about finding out what it was.

"You know I love you," he said, frustration in his voice.

"Yes," she said, quietly.  She felt something heavy building in her belly.  This didn't sound like it was going to end happily.

"And you know I love Pru."

"Yes," she said again.   Surely he wasn't going to leave them both!  She wanted to bite her tongue, but said it anyway.

"And you know that neither of us can afford to get pregnant again."

"Oh, I know that," he said with a gusting breath.  "That's not it.  I can live with that.  I mean, I want to father some children ... but I know it can't be with you."  He smiled.  "Or Pru," he added.

"Then what's wrong?" she asked.

"I think I have feelings for another woman," he admitted, just getting it out there.

"And she won't put up with ... us," said Mirriam, that heavy feeling back in her gut.

"I haven't the faintest idea," he said.  "She knows about you.  It's not a problem for her ... or it hasn't been.  It's just  ... I don't think I can explain it."  

"Why not?  What are you talking about?" she asked.

He cupped her breast and stroked it lovingly.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said. "I love you, and I love what we have together."

"I do too," she said, putting her hand on top of his.  "But neither Pru nor I want to keep you from finding a woman you can settle down with, and have your children with."

"If only it were that easy," he sighed.  

"Why can't it be that easy?" she asked.

He closed his eyes.   It was tearing things up anyway.  He knew that.  He might as well just get it over with.

"Because it's Florence."

It was silent for a few seconds.

"Florence?" she said, amazement in her voice.  "My Florence?"

"Yes," he said, his eyes still closed.  He couldn't look at her now.

"How did this happen?" she asked, still amazed.

"I don't know!" he said, finally opening his eyes.  "We were just cleaning up the other night, after the baby was down, and you were asleep.  She was washing dishes and I brought some to the sink.  The next thing I knew she had my hands pressed against her ... here," he said, squeezing the breast he was still holding.  "She was horrified.  We both were!  And then, for some stupid reason, I kissed her!   Neither one of us could understand what was happening."

"What else happened?"  There was a kind of surreal property to Mirriam's voice.

"Nothing," he said.  "We went to bed."  He realized what that sounded like.  "Apart ... to our own beds."  He wanted to be precise.  "She went to her room, and I slept on the couch."

"My Florence!" said Mirriam.  Her voice was stronger now.

"I'm sorry," he said softly.  "I didn't mean for it to happen, but I can't get it out of my mind now.   I don't know if there's anything there or not, but it's driving me crazy."

"So that's why she's been acting so strange," said Mirriam.

"I don't know," he said.  "We haven't really talked about it.  Neither of us wants to hurt you."

What Ted could not know was that Mirriam had been worried about Flo for several years.  She wasn't normal, in the sense that she had no boyfriends ... didn't seem interested in men at all.  She seemed quite happy with things the way they were.  She didn't want to fly the nest, like Mary and Beverly had, and like she was quite sure her other daughters would, some day.   But it was just so odd ... not exploring men.   Now, she had just been told that her daughter DID have an interest in a man ... a man Mirriam knew well, and loved ... a man she trusted.

There was some pain as the result of his comments too, of course.  Mirriam was quite sure that, if anything developed between Ted and Flo, that Flo would no longer accept Ted's relationship with her mother.   Her hopes for Florence could come true ... but the cost would be losing her own lover.   It was irony, taken to the extreme.

And, what Ted could not know, was that Mirriam had spent her entire adult life taking what she could get, and being satisfied with that, instead of gnashing her teeth, or feeling sorry for herself.  When Joe had come, she had loved every second of it.  When he was gone, eventually forever, she had resigned herself to life without him.   Then Ted had come along, and she'd had a sudden reprieve from loneliness and the lack of ... intimacy.  She'd grabbed at that gold ring too, loving it, but knowing it would not last forever.

In short, Mirriam Dalton was strong enough to give him up, if it might result in something better for her daughter.   Florence knew him as well or better than any other adult man.  If she was attracted to him, it was no mere crush.  For Mirriam, the decision was easy.

"If you think I'm upset because one of the sweetest men I know is interested in my daughter, you don't know me as well as you thought you did," she said.

"I feel so guilty," he moaned.  "It isn't fair to you."

"What's not fair is a beautiful, intelligent young woman going through life alone, because the one man she gets interested in is encumbered with a woman he can never marry, or have children with," said Mirriam.  "That would be unfair."

"But I'll always want you," he said.  "I'll always love you."

"Perhaps that may fade, with time," she said.  "The point is that you need to find out how she feels, and how you feel.  You need to spend some time with her."

"How can I do that?" he asked.

"Ask her out on a date, of course," said the naked woman in his arms.  She leaned forward to kiss him with gusto, and then pulled back.  "After you make love to me one more time, that is."

==========================================

The date, as it turned out, ended up being an invitation to accompany him to the school Halloween party.   All the students, and all the teachers were invited to come, in costume.  There would be a school type carnival, with games, and cheap prizes, easily won.  There would be punch, and candy and everyone could have some fun.

Asking her was the hard part.   He couldn't just tell her that, while he was fucking her mother, he'd confessed that he was horny for Flo, whereupon her mother had suggested he go for it.   It just wasn't done that way.

And, as far as he could tell, Mirriam hadn't talked to her daughter.

In that, he was wrong.  Mirriam had taken her into the bedroom the very next morning.  It had been an eye-opening session for Florence.

Mirriam hadn't beaten around the bush.

"I understand that you put Ted's hands on your breasts, the other night," she said, for an opener.

Florence blanched.  "It was an accident, Mamma!"

"How can you accidentally put a man's hands on your breasts?" asked Mirriam.

"I was all tense, and he was rubbing my shoulders.  His hands felt so good, Mamma.  I just wasn't thinking clearly.  I kept thinking how nice they might feel on my ... you know."

"Your breasts?" said Mirriam firmly.  "Girl, you're nineteen years old.  They're breasts.  Can't you even say it?"

"Mamma!" cried Florence, as tears came. "I didn't MEAN it!  It was a mistake, Mamma.  I love you.  I didn't mean to ... I don't want to take him away.  Please, Mamma."  She ended up bawling.

Mirriam pulled her into her arms and cradled her oldest female baby.

"Why didn't you just tell me you liked him?" she asked, stroking Flo's hair.

"I couldn't, Mamma," the girl sobbed.  "He's yours."

"He isn't mine," said Mirriam.  "He isn't anybody's.  He's a grown man, who has brought much joy into my life, but nobody owns him.  Not yet.  But if you wait too long to claim him ... if that's what you want to do ... then some other woman may do that, and then he'll be lost to all of us."

"I don't know if I want to claim him," moaned Flo, pulling back and wiping her eyes.

"Then you need to spend some time with him," said her mother.  "Go on some dates."

"He won't ask me on a date!" blurted Flo.

"He's attracted to you too," said her mother.  "He confessed it, just like you did.  I told him the same thing I just told you."

"Ohhhhh Mamma," cried Florence, hugging her mother tightly.  "I love you so much!"

Then, though, Florence waited to be asked on a date.  She surely wasn't going to go throw herself at him.  He made her tingle, and he made her have to seek Bobby out for a good, long fucking, but she wasn't going to play the part of the man, and ask for a date.  That was HIS job!

She got her wish, when he asked her to the Halloween party.  It just wasn't quite what she'd thought her first date with him would be like.

===========================================

That date, and other things of interest to the reader, will be chronicled in book nine of this series.  We'll continue some of Bobby's relationships, and meet a new woman who took him a little further down the road towards being a gigolo.

