The Making of a Gigolo - Agatha Roberts by Lubrican

   Foreword

   This is the fifteenth, and last full book in a series of stories about
how Bobby Dalton was transformed, from a normal teenage 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.

   While this story is titled with the name of a principle female
character, there are others who have major roles as well.  This is the
final book in the series, so the subject matter will be diverse.  An
epilogue will wrap up loose ends, but, because of the length of this book,
will be posted separately.

   Bob

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

   Chapter One



   1976 - July

   The fireworks were over and people were streaming to their cars, or
walking home.  The lights on the bandstand had gone out, though there were
still strings of other lights still on, here and there.  Most of the
cleanup would take place the next day.  There was no rain threatening, so
no one felt like staying late to fold chairs or take down tables.

   Bobby Dalton was in no hurry to get to his car.  The twins had come with
their mother and left the same way.  He'd been doing a last minute
emergency repair on a faucet after the washer in it had disintegrated and
it wouldn't stop running, and he'd come to the celebration straight from
that, in his car.  He was walking slowly through the semi-dark when he saw
the woman he'd been thinking about earlier in the evening.

   Agatha Roberts was also in no hurry to start the walk home.  She had
picked up her chair and moved it out from under the trees so she could
watch the fireworks.  She'd always loved fireworks.  They were like castles
in the sky when she was a little girl, and had fired her imagination back
then.  They still did.  They were so bright and cheerful and beautiful. 
And so temporary.  She always felt a little let down when they ended. 
While she didn't think about it consciously, the fireworks were a metaphor
of the dreams she'd had as a teenager.  There had been a few bright moments
in her life, like bursting sprays of electric color, but they had faded, to
leave only drifting smoke on the wind.  She sat now, alone, still staring
at the sky, her mind elsewhere.

   She sat alone because none of her friends liked fireworks, at least not
like she did.  To some of the people she circulated with, the fireworks
were only noisy, dangerous things that had to be endured.  Some of them
wanted the city council to pass an ordinance banning fireworks inside the
city limits.  Agatha was secretly horrified by that idea.  Shooting off
fireworks with her brothers had been a highlight of each of her years,
growing up.  But her friends sat at the tables and clucked about the waste
of good money as the bursts of color filled the skies, even though it
wasn't their money being wasted.

   And so, she always picked up her chair and moved, to where she could
enjoy the sights without having to listen to what would otherwise ruin the
show.  On this particular night, she had settled in beside a blanket, upon
which a man and his wife sat, with their three children.  The children had
danced and shouted, awed by the huge balls of light in the sky, exclaiming
that this one was the best, then saying the same thing again when the next
burst took place.  Husband and wife simply sat, staring upwards, holding
hands.

   She had enjoyed the antics of the children and envied the quiet
closeness of their parents.  Children had been one of her bright and
colorful dreams as a teenager.  The first two or three years of her
marriage to Harry had turned those dreams to smoke.  There had been no
children.  She didn't know why, but it didn't matter.  Now Harry was dead
and she was alone.  Her friends expected her to act suitably and
decorously, as befitted a proper widow.  Her friends had made clear how
sorry they were that there could be no man in her future ...  that she'd
had the only man she was destined to have.  She didn't understand why that
was, but they made it clear.  To be honest, after Harry, she wasn't all
that interested in finding another man anyway.  Marriage had been somewhat
of a disappointment to Agatha.

   "Good evening." The deep voice startled her out of her reverie and she
looked over to see who had spoken in the dark.  She tensed instantly.

   "Nice night," said Bobby, when she didn't respond to his greeting.

   "Yes," she said tightly.  She looked around.  What if someone saw him
talking to her?!

   "Would you mind if I asked you a question?" His voice was soft, in the
dark.

   She could see people over by the lighted areas, but they were all moving
somewhere.  Her friends would have wasted no time leaving the park to go
home.  It wasn't seemly to stay up late.  Early to bed and early to rise
was their credo.  They wanted to be healthy, wealthy and thought of
themselves already as wise.

   "It's a free country," she replied.  She felt almost proud.  She'd heard
a young person use that comment at the grocery store and had been secretly
waiting to try using it herself.  It sounded so modern.

   Someone else had left a chair a few feet away, and he got it and sat it
in front of her.  He sat down and leaned back.  She could barely see his
face in the dark.

   "You don't like me," he said.

   She frowned.  How could he say that?  She'd taken such pains to make
herself look alluring to such as him.  He went on, in the dark.

   "And yet, you had me come over ...  several times in fact ...  to do
things I could have done all at once.  Why do I get the feeling that you
wanted me at your house ...  but not because I repair things?"

   She was astonished at how he'd seen through her ruse.  She was also very
nervous.  Her plan depended on him being ignorant of any danger until the
trap was sprung.

   "That's nonsense," she said, trying to control her voice.

   "I saw you watching me, while I was dancing with Jill," he said.  "It
looked like maybe you wanted to dance too ...  but then you turned and
hurried away."

   "More nonsense," she muttered.  She started to say "I'd never dance with
you," but managed to bite that off.  Insulting him now wouldn't help her
cause.  "I don't dance," she said instead.

   "I see," he said.

   He was quiet for a while, and she didn't know what to do.  Why didn't he
just get up and leave?

   "That's too bad," he said, finally.  "I've seen you walk.  You're very
graceful.  You walk like someone who would enjoy dancing."

   Agatha was thunderstruck.  He'd paid her a compliment!  Her mind
fluttered.  She HAD loved dancing, when she was in school.  She'd had to
love it secretly, because her parents didn't approve of dancing.  They
hadn't approved of lots of things she was interested in back then.  All of
her dancing had been done privately.  She'd watched the other kids,
remembered their actions, and practiced them alone in her room, with the
music in her mind.

   "I guess your friends might think that was odd," he said, interrupting
her train of thought.  "If you danced with me, I mean." He was quiet again
for a few seconds.  "They don't like me either," he added.

   He sounded like he was pulling away ...  almost like he was saying
goodbye, somehow, and she felt panic rising in her.  She needed him to be
interested in her.  Her plan on exposing him required it.

   "My friends don't make my decisions for me," she almost blurted.  She
knew that was an outright lie, but how could he know that?

   "You must be a very strong woman," he said.

   Agatha's mind buzzed.  Now why had he said that?  She wasn't strong. 
She was terrified right this instant, in fact.

   "Could I ask you another question?" he asked.

   She'd been able to dodge his first one.  He'd paid her several
compliments since then.  Maybe her plan was working better than she
thought. She felt helpless.  If it was working, she had no idea WHY it was
working.

   "All right," she said.

   "You and your friends don't like my friends," he said.  "Could you
explain why that is?"

   Agatha felt honest surprise.  Surely he knew.  It was obvious.  Maybe he
was just stupid.

   "What on Earth makes you think we don't like you?" she asked, avoiding
the question again.

   "I'm not stupid, Agatha," he said softly.

   It was the first time he'd used her first name.  It was also like he
could read her mind, because she HAD been thinking he must be stupid.

   "We simply appreciate high moral standards," she said, flustered enough
to say it without thinking first.

   "And you think our standards are low," he said.

   "Women who have children out of wedlock have low moral fiber," she said,
automatically.

   "My mother and father were married when I was born," said Bobby.  "So
why do you dislike me?"

   He kept getting back to that!  She wished that she'd just gotten up and
walked away.  But her plan prevented that.  And the way he was talking made
it clear that her plan was in trouble anyway.

   "I don't dislike you," she said, trying to make it sound genuine.  "In
fact I admit that I called you to my house because I was a little curious
about you."

   There, that ought to repair the damage.  She was uncomfortable being
that forward, but it had to be done.

   "You seemed scared of me," he pressed.

   "You're just the first man who's been in the house since Harry ..." she
didn't finish.

   "I see," he said.  "I don't want to be a pest about this, but could I
ask another question?"

   "Go ahead." At least HE wasn't just walking away.

   "Why did you marry Harry?"

   Her mouth dropped open.  What in the world did he mean?  She was so
flustered that she just spoke her mind.

   "Why does anyone get married?  To make a family.  To have security.  To
raise children."

   "Didn't you love him?" asked Bobby.

   This was insane!  She was getting more and more unsettled by this
conversation.

   "Of course I loved him!" she said weakly.

   "Well, you didn't say that ...  and I just wondered."

   He didn't sound like he was being sarcastic.  She wished she could see
his face better, to see if he was smirking or not.  He went on before she
could think of any response.

   "And I was just thinking that some of the people you and your friends
don't like are just like what you said.  They wanted to make a family, and
raise children.  That's what they're doing, in fact."

   "But they're not married!" she blurted.

   "That's true," said Bobby.  "But they made a family just the same.  How
come you and Harry never had any kids?"

   He was so impertinent!

   "I don't know," she said.

   "Did you try?" he asked.

   "Young man!" she said, unable to keep her emotions in check any longer.
"That is NOT a proper question to ask a lady!"

   "Sorry," he said, not sounding sorry at all.  "It's just that you said
you married him to make a family and then you didn't do that, and I guess I
was just curious ...  that's all."

   "Why do you even care?" she said, her voice loud in the darkness.

   "I'm just trying to figure out what you want from me," he said.

   That didn't make any sense to Agatha at all.  No matter how she thought
about it, it made no sense.

   "I don't want anything from you," she said.

   "And yet ...  you called me to your house ...  not once, but three
times."

   "I told you," she insisted.  "I was just curious about you."

   "And yet, when I'm curious about you, you take offense," he pointed out.


   She had no idea what to say.  How did he talk her in circles that way?

   "Can we start over?" he asked.

   "What?"

   "You're interested in me and I'm interested in you.  Can we just start
over and see if we can figure this out?"

   "Start over?" She couldn't make any sense of that either.

   "Yes.  Hi.  I'm Bobby and I'm interested in you.  Would you like to
spend a little time with me and get to know each other?"

   She was dumfounded.

   "Well ...  um ..." She had no idea what to say.

   "It's really very easy," he said softly.  "You either do or you don't."

   She thought furiously.  He was asking her for a ...  date ...  wasn't
he? Could it be that simple?  Were her elaborate plans for nothing ...  or
were they working?  She took a breath, and then it hit her: He was
INTERESTED in her!

   "I ...  I ...  oh my!" she gasped.  Her stomach felt like she'd eaten
something that didn't agree with her.

   "Why don't we start by you telling me a little about yourself?" he
prodded.

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

   Agatha opened her front door and stepped into the dark house.  She felt
better immediately, just because things smelled right ...  felt right.  She
closed the door and turned on the light.  Her eyes squinted immediately. 
She'd been in the dark for what seemed like hours and the light seemed
blindingly bright.

   She almost ran to the bathroom, hoisting her dress as she ran.  She sat
heavily, and just in time, as her complaining bladder was finally able to
relax.

   She looked at her watch.  It was after midnight!  She'd stayed up hours
past her bedtime!  What if people had seen her hurrying home so late?  It
occurred to her that no one could have seen her.  They'd all been decently
in bed for hours.  She flushed and headed for the bedroom by habit.

   As she got out of her clothes she realized she wasn't sleepy.  Not at
all.  They had been talking for hours.  She couldn't believe it.  It felt
like only half an hour had gone by.

   She realized that couldn't be, though.  She hadn't been able to say
anything, almost, for at least that long.  She wasn't sure why she'd stayed
at all, except that she kept trying to make her plan work.  She now
realized almost everything she'd done had gone against her plan, not helped
it.

   There in the dark, he'd wheedled things out of her, little by little,
asking her questions ...  hundreds of questions!  As the time had somehow
slipped by, she'd found out they went to school with some of the same
people.  He was only three years younger than she was, and had been a
freshman when she was a senior.

   He'd remembered the oddest things ...  things about high school, and
about Granger, and about people they both knew, that she remembered too. 
His point of view about some of those things was startlingly like her own.
The pizza, for instance.  They both remembered the first time pizza had
been offered during lunch at school.  It had had a doughy, thick crust,
almost like an underdone hot roll, piled high with delicious meat and
cheese and olives.  Her mouth had watered when he'd remembered that.

   That had been during a time when he was asking her what kind of food she
liked.  It had seemed like such an odd thing to talk about, there in the
dark.  He'd asked her all kinds of odd questions.  One that popped into her
mind was whether she'd ever had a tree house.

   How odd!  Why would anyone ask a question like that?

   She dropped her slip on the bed and then turned to pick up her dress, to
take it to the hamper.  Her reflection caught her attention, in the mirror.
Standing there in bra and panties, she stared at herself.

   The closest thing he'd come to, regarding sex, during hours of idle chit
chat, had been a question about whether she'd ever worn a bikini.  She'd
almost laughed at that one, because it was so absurd.  Good girls didn't
wear slutty things like that.  Wasn't that obvious?  He'd said something
about how his mother had fits when his sisters wanted to wear them.  She'd
thought that was odd too.  His mother was one of the worst of them ...  all
those girls ...  had out of wedlock like that!  And to think she objected
to her girls wearing scanty swim suits.

   In the mirror she examined her form.  Her bra and panties were about
like a bikini.  She looked at her body critically.  She could see the
beginnings of a roll at her waist.  She'd better start walking more.  Her
breasts were still firm.  They'd always been firm.  She hated her breasts
...  always had.  Even when Harry had said he liked them, she'd thought he
was insane.  One was bigger than the other, for one thing.  And the tips
were so pointed.  Underneath they were round, like a proper breast should
be, but the tops sloped down, to rise up again, like the sled run over at
old Mr.  Hawkins pasture that made your sled lurch into the air for a few
feet if you hit it just right.

   That had come up in the conversation too.  She'd been astonished to
learn that Bobby Dalton had gone to the same pasture when the snow was new.
For all she knew she'd been there with her brothers, sledding down that
hill at the same time he was, way back then.

   Unthinkingly she reached back and undid her bra.  When it fell from her
breasts, there they were, staring back at her in the mirror.  She blushed.
A proper lady didn't look at her own naked body in a mirror.  She jerked
her eyes away from those ugly breasts, with their up-thrust nipples that
pointed up and out, like some kind of weird-eyed lizard or something.

   She got her nightgown on and sighed with relief as she was decently
covered.  It was hot, but the nightgown was a necessity.  One of the topics
at Tuesday tea one time had been about people sleeping naked.  Gladys and
Ethyl had been appropriately horrified at that idea.  What was the world
coming to when people acted like animals?

   She lay in bed, still not sleepy.  Her plan had worked, even though she
knew she didn't have anything to do with that.  When he'd finally said it
was getting late and that he'd kept her much too long, he'd said it was
fun!

   More importantly, he'd suggested that he wanted to get to know her even
better.  She blinked in the dark, as his final words came back into her
mind and struck her just as hard as they had when first spoken.

   "Would you like to have a picnic with me sometime?" he'd asked.

   That was when she’d realized she had to urinate.  The urge had
come upon her so strongly she was almost afraid she'd go right there.

   That must have affected her mind, because she was quite sure that, as
she got her unruly bladder under control, she'd barely been able to say
that might be nice.

   He'd suggested Tuesday, two days hence, but she'd said no to that
immediately.  That was tea day.  He'd then suggested Wednesday and her
mouth had said "yes" before she could think clearly.

   She lay there in bed.  She had a date with Bobby Dalton!  Sure, it was
only a picnic ...  but it was a date, for all intents and purposes.  She'd
go somewhere with him ...  alone ...  and they'd have a picnic.  Her
stomach did flip flops.  What if he raped her?  She dithered for a few
seconds until her rational mind reminded her that he hadn't acted like a
rapist while they’d talked, there in the dark.  Then she wondered how
a rapist acted.

   When she finally got to sleep, her sleep was troubled.

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

   The seventh of July was a tough day for Agatha Roberts.  She had managed
to get through Tuesday tea without losing her mind.  On Monday, as she
panicked about having a picnic with Bobby, part of that was because it had
been a long time since she'd been on a picnic and she wasn't sure what the
protocol was.  Was she still responsible for everything?  She had a picnic
basket, down in the basement.  It hadn't been used since she'd gotten
married.

   She went on a cooking frenzy, which didn't work out well, because she'd
almost forgotten how to cook.  If it didn't come in an aluminum tray, and
couldn't be heated in the oven, it took some real thought.  She
couldn’t ask her mother for help.  Or any of her friends.  So she
almost set the stove on fire, trying to fry chicken, and burned hot rolls
that looked more like pancakes.  She was tempted to call him and cancel the
whole thing.

   But she had to keep her plan alive.

   Gladys had smelled the burned cooking, even a whole day later, and asked
about it.

   "Oh, I was just trying a new recipe," said Agatha, trying to make it
sound casual.  "Sometimes they don't work out."

   They had swallowed it and she was relieved when they finally left.

   Then she drove to the grocery store, to become amazed at all the new
kinds of prepared foods she hadn't paid any attention to over the years.

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

   The next day she was a wreck as she parked in a spot at the Quivera Lake
State Park, where they had agreed to meet.  She had said he couldn't pick
her up and he had approved, saying: "We wouldn't want any of your friends
to see us together." It had been such a reasonable thing to say that she'd
just agreed, completely unaware that she had said something that might cut
to the bone.

   It hadn't.  If anything Bobby had been amazed that she'd agreed to the
picnic at all.  She had aroused his curiosity to a degree that surprised
him.  She was so completely different than any of the women he knew, with
the possible exception of Renee back when he'd first met her.  Not even
Felicity was as tied up in societal knots as this woman appeared to be. 
Everything she had done, to this point, seemed to go directly against the
customs of the woman he thought she was.

   Of course, Agatha didn't know that as she sat, tense, wondering that was
going to happen.  He wasn't there yet.  It was sweltering and she realized
all the windows of her car were rolled up.  She lowered the driver's
window, but it was still so hot that sweat rolled down her temples.  She
got out of the car, to stand in the sun.  At least there was a little
breeze coming off of the lake.

   She didn't know what his car looked like and didn't realize it was his
until he parked right beside her, the sun glinting blindingly off his
windshield.  He got out, looking fresh as could be and smiling.

   "I'm glad you came," he said.

   She realized, with a start, that there had been some question in his
mind that she would, in fact, keep their appointment.

   "You look nice," he said, his voice neutral.

   She'd agonized over what to wear.  In this weather a thin blouse and her
Bermuda shorts were the most obvious thing to wear, but that was much too
forward.  She'd chosen a white dress with little blue cornflowers on it. 
It showed her neck almost indecently, but it would be more comfortable than
anything else she had to wear.  For some reason, all her dresses tended to
be dark, subdued colors.

   "Thank you," she said automatically.

   "It's too hot to eat out in the open, don't you think?" he asked.  "I
have something in mind, but I don't know if you'd be comfortable with it."

   "What's that?" she asked.  She really couldn't do anything else.

   "My sisters have an old tree house out at the farm.  It's shady there
and has big windows in it, to let in the breeze."

   She blinked.  Have a picnic in a tree house?  What a perfectly insane
idea!  Still, if it forwarded her plan ...

   "At your farm?" she asked, not sure how to agree without encouraging him
too much.

   "Yes," he said.  "My mother is visiting friends.  The twins are working.
There won't be anyone there to see us."

   She felt a thrill of danger.  He was trying to get her alone again. 
Then he ruined it.

   "My mother would have my hide if she knew I was taking you on a picnic."


   Agatha was stunned.  "Why?" she yipped.

   He grinned, but it wasn't a feral grin.  "She disapproves of you as much
as you disapprove of her."

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

   The ride in his car was unsettling.  It started that way because her
feelings were hurt ...  that someone could object to her having a simple
picnic with a man, based on their twisted morals!  And then, when she'd
brought out her picnic basket, it turned out that he'd brought food too, as
if he didn't trust her to properly prepare for the picnic.  He'd just
smiled and said there was more to choose from, but now, as they drove along
back roads, skulking around like teenagers trying to keep their parents
from seeing them together, he was simply humming along with what was
playing on the radio.

   Still, it was much cooler.  The windows were down.  Her hair was being
mussed and she hadn't brought a scarf, but she was able to hold it in place
with her hands.  He looked over at her.

   "What are you doing?" he asked.

   "What?" She looked around.

   "You're holding your head."

   "Oh," she said.  "My hair."

   "Your hair looks fine," he said.

   "It won't if I don't keep it in place," she groused.

   "Agatha, I asked you to have a picnic because I like being with you ...
not because of how your hair looks."

   She managed not to let her mouth sag open.  He said the most distressing
things sometimes.  He liked being with her?  She didn't realize how much
her shoulders hurt until she tentatively dropped her hands.  Her hair
whipped across her face instantly, in the wind.

   "See!" she moaned.

   He reached past her and opened the glove compartment.

   "There's a rubber band in there somewhere," he said, putting his hand
back on the wheel.  "Just tie it back in a ponytail."

   "Only girls wear ponytails," she objected.

   "I know all kinds of women who wear a ponytail," he said.  "Some of them
are a lot older than you."

   It was the hair that kept getting in her mouth and eyes that finally
forced her to accede to his suggestion.  She hadn't worn her hair like this
since she was in school, but the old motions of holding her hair back and
wrapping it with a rubber band came back to her easily, almost without
thought.

   She had to admit it was much better ...  at least as long as they were
in the car.

   She'd never actually been to a real farm before.  The old house and the
stately trees clustered around it gave off a clear sense of "home", even if
things were dusty and well worn.  She stared at the sign at the end of the
driveway that said "Dalton Bed and Breakfast."

   "I didn't know you had a bed and breakfast," she said.

   "We just opened not too long ago," said Bobby.

   He drove through the yard and along a fence line.  The path was dirt and
bumpy.  Clouds of dust rose behind the car.  The road led through a patch
of forest and he stopped the car right in the middle of it.  She got out
and looked up to see the weathered gray boards of a box-like structure, ten
or fifteen feet off the ground.  It did, in fact, look like a tiny house
perched on the branches of a big tree.  There were boards nailed to the
trunk of the tree, to make a ladder of sorts, that led to a platform
outside the house.

   "I can't climb that," she said automatically.  She was wearing sensible
shoes, but they still had an inch and a half of heel on the back.

   "Sure you can," he said.  "I'll help you."

   The first thing she thought of was that he wanted to look up her dress,
as she climbed.  She had on panty hose - she had already been reminded of
that several times, because they felt hot and confining but she still
wasn't about to let him look up her dress as she climbed.

   "We can go together," he said, making her jerk her head around to look
at him.  "There are actually two ladders.  You can't see the other one,
because it's on the side of the tree, but you'll be able to see it as we
climb."

   "What about the picnic baskets?" she complained.  His was startlingly
like her own.

   "There are ropes.  We can tie them off and pull them up."

   This was beginning to take on the feeling of a real adventure, but
Agatha stiffened her resolve.

   "All right," she said.

   Chapter Two



   It HAD been easy, to Agatha's astonishment.  He had showed her how to
grip the ladder above and pull herself up, stepping up one rung at a time.
The trunk actually leaned so that she was tilted toward the tree.  She
blushed, thinking of what it would look like underneath her, but, of
course, he was beside her.  She pulled her own basket up, kneeling on the
edge of the platform.  It seemed much higher from up here.

   "Blankets!" he grunted.  "Be right back."

   She hadn't seen the thick rope that hung from a branch above the tree
house to the ground.  He slid down it, and she watched in amazement.  He
looked very athletic.  He went to the trunk of the car and brought back
several blankets.  He tried throwing them up to her, but that didn't work
as they came unfolded and fluttered back down.  Then he rolled them all up
and tied one of the ropes around them.  She pulled them up while he climbed
again.  She watched as he made a nest for them and felt her stomach acting
up again.  More things could be done on that thick layer of blankets than
eating or talking.

   She was shocked that she'd thought of that and blushed.  He didn't see
her do that, though.  He was busy setting things out.

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

   "You're a good cook," sighed Bobby.  He was lying on one side, facing
her.  All the food was between them and he'd just polished off a piece of
the barbecued chicken that some faceless person at the IGA had cooked and
put in a warmer just before she bought it.

   "I have to confess I didn't cook that," she said.  "I bought it at the
store.  I tried to cook, but it didn't work out well." She felt better for
telling him the truth.

   "In that case, I don't mind telling you those sandwiches came from the
deli in town," said Bobby, grinning.  He'd brought the most delicious ham
sandwiches she'd ever tasted.  "I couldn't get away with cooking anything,
because my mother would have wanted to know why I was doing it."

   "I just don't understand how your mother could object to you having a
picnic with me," said Agatha.

   "Remember the first day you met me?" he asked, reaching for some potato
chips.

   "Yes," she said.

   "If I'd asked you to go on a picnic that day, would you have agreed?"

   "Of course not," she admitted.

   "So ...  what changed?"

   "I don't know," she said.

   "We talked a little bit," he offered.  "We got to know each other a
little bit and I wasn't so scary anymore."

   Now she felt bad that she was lying to him again.  He had jumped to the
wrong conclusion ...  that she liked being with him.  She couldn't admit
that the only reason she was here, in this tree house, was because she was
waiting for him to offer to have sex with her if she paid him.  Her plans
were to ruin his life.  He went blithely on, ignorant that he was being
stalked.

   "I'm quite sure that if you and my mother had a chance to chat, you'd
like each other.  Communication bridges gaps like that." He reached for
another olive and popped it into his mouth.

   She took a bite and chewed slowly, so she wouldn't have to say anything.
He was a handsome man, she admitted to herself unhappily.  Lying there,
relaxed, he looked good.  And he was so nice!  He hadn't done any of the
things she'd expected him to do ...  had been prepared to defend herself
from.  It was almost like they were just ...  having a picnic!

   "Why haven't you started dating again?" he asked.

   She almost choked, but managed not to spew half eaten sandwich all over
the place.  He waited until her mouth was cleared and she took a drink from
the bottle of Coke he'd given her, to clear her throat.

   "I could never do that," she said.

   "Why on earth not?" he asked.  "As I recall, most of the vows I've heard
exchanged said something about until death do them part." A shadow came
over his face.  "I'm sorry," he said instantly.  "That didn't come out
quite right."

   "It's all right," she said, trying to be polite.  She felt a little
guilty that she didn't miss Harry more than she did.

   "What I mean is, it's been several years.  You're still young.  You
could go on with life.  I'm just curious as to why you haven't."

   "You're not married," she pointed out.

   "True," he said.  "But not because I don't want to be.  I just haven't
found the right woman yet."

   "You've had dozens of women," she said.  She paled.  She couldn't
believe she'd said that!

   "Dozens might be a little on the optimistic side," he said, without
missing a beat.  "I've been friends with lots of women, but it never seemed
to lead in the direction of marriage." He saw her pale face and his
intuition kicked in.  "That's part of why you don't like me," he said. 
"Because of all those rumors about me and my lady friends."

   "Well?" she said weakly.  "You just admitted it."

   "What did I admit?" he asked, looking at her with a level gaze.

   "I suppose you were just trying to find a wife," she said stiffly.  Her
body ached all over, the result of sitting primly, upright, with her legs
tucked back decently under her skirt.  She didn't lie down, like the man
across from her.

   "Maybe," he said calmly.  "How did you go about finding your husband?"

   That question took her aback.  He seemed to be asking a serious
question.

   "He proposed and I accepted," she said.  That was how she remembered it.


   "It was that easy?" He looked doubtful.  "I've offered to marry several
women.  They all turned me down."

   Now THAT was news!  Wouldn't Gladys and Ethyl salivate about that!  Then
it occurred to her she couldn't tell them that.  They'd want to know how
she knew.  She certainly couldn't tell them it had come straight from the
horse's mouth.

   "That must have been painful," she said, just to say something.

   "Not really," he said.  "Well, a little bit, I guess.  They all
explained it very well."

   "Did they?"

   "Yes." He reached for another olive.  She watched him bite it and then
chew.  "Though sometimes you just have to take a woman's word for it, when
they say something like you're just not the right man."

   Agatha was confused.  He seemed to be telling the truth.  But if that
was the case ...  where did all those babies come from?  Surely no woman
who had decided not to marry a man would get herself into that kind of
situation.  That led her back to the sex for money idea.  But that made
even less sense.  Why would any woman hire a man to get her pregnant?  None
of this was making sense.  Especially since he seemed to be so nice!  His
next question confused her even more.

   "What does it feel like to be in love?" he asked.  "Like you were in
love with Harry."

   "Love?" Her voice quivered a bit.

   "Yes.  I know what it's like to love my mamma and my sisters.  But
that's different."

   "You've never been in love?" Her voice was weak.

   "I don't know," he said.  "It's hard to explain.  I feel things ...  but
I don't know if it's love or not."

   She could understand that.  That was what was terrifying her at the
moment.  Deep in the recesses of her mind, she wasn't sure she'd ever loved
Harry at all.  She'd known she was supposed to.  She'd even tried.  Except
she didn't know how to make that magical thing she'd heard of happen. 
She'd been happy.  She'd been content.  But she couldn't really answer his
question, because she wasn't sure SHE had ever been in love.

   "He made me happy," she tried.

   "Lots of women have made me happy," said Bobby.  "There has to be more
to it than that."

   "Oh I don't know!" she said nervously.  "Let's talk about something
else."

   "I'm sorry," he said.  He sounded sorry.  "I didn't mean to dredge up
bad memories.  I know you must miss him horribly."

   "Yes," she said, because that was what she was expected to say.  She
felt bad about lying.

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

   Agatha drove carefully as she left the state park.  She didn't know how
to feel about what had happened.  He had freely admitted that he had lots
of lady friends, but his claim that he was exploring relationships with an
eye toward marriage put it all in a different light.  And he'd been a
perfect gentleman around her, other than lying indolently across from her
looking handsome enough to charm even Gladys.  She giggled with a trace of
hysteria, trying to imagine Gladys in that tree house.  All she could
imagine was Gladys huffing and puffing, trying to pull her bulk up those
rickety boards nailed to the tree.

   Had he really proposed to several women?  Which ones?  It couldn't be
the ones who had the babies.  That just didn't make any sense of any kind.

   As she pulled into her garage she felt a little sad.

   If she hadn't been on a mission, she might have had a very nice time.

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

   Bobby's thought processes were similar, in some ways, as he drove away
from the lake.  He couldn't figure Agatha Roberts out.  She was still
young. She'd be pretty if she tried to be.  The few times he'd seen her
smile, she'd looked pretty.  She was so sour!

   And yet, she must be interested.  Why would she have gone on the picnic
if she wasn't interested?  But then, while they were together, she seemed
to fight that interest.

   It was a puzzle.  He was intrigued.

   On impulse, he turned toward Erica's house.  The water at the lake had
looked good.  Erica was complaining that her back hurt all the time,
because of the double weight that the baby and her breasts caused.  Maybe
he could talk her into going swimming.

   His mind drifted back to Agatha.  Yes ...  she was a puzzle ...  and
Bobby liked puzzles.  He had no way of knowing it, nor did Agatha Roberts,
but her plan was actually working ...  in a way.

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

   Erica did want to go swimming.  It was hot in the house.  Her back DID
ache frequently, if she wasn't lying down.  Her breasts had gotten even
bigger.  Her protruding abdomen now stuck out as far as her breasts did
too, at least when she wasn't wearing a bra.

   "I don't have a swimsuit," she complained.

   "I know a place we can skinny dip," he said.

   "You're insane," she sighed.

   "OK, you can go in in shorts and a T shirt."

   "I don't own shorts and a T shirt!" she barked.  "And if I did, they
wouldn't fit, thanks to you!"

   "The place I told you about," he said calmly, "where you can skinny dip?
It's on private property.  I know the owners.  We can drive within fifty
yards of the water and nobody will be able to see us."

   Erica was constantly amazed at how Bobby could somehow make what he said
seem so reasonable.

   "You just want to see me naked," she said, her voice surly.

   "Of course I do," he admitted, grinning.

   Erica was also constantly amazed at how Bobby could make her feel the
way she did right now, even when she was trying NOT to feel that way.

   "You'd better be telling me the truth," she warned.

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

   He was.  He unlatched a gate and drove across a pasture, where cows
grazed.  There was, indeed, a tree line between the pasture and the lake,
and once they walked into it, no one could see them from the road.  She
could see boats out on the lake, though.  She pointed that out to Bobby.

   "Can you see the people on those boats?" he asked.

   "Yes," she said.

   "Can you tell whether they're naked or not?"

   "Of course they're not naked!"

   "Can you tell?"

   She refused to answer.

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

   She made him hold up a towel while she tiptoed, carefully, across the
gravel, shielding her from the view of the boats.  She couldn't do anything
about it when, as her feet got into the water, he tossed the towel onto the
gravel and started undressing right there on the beach.

   "Bobby!" she complained, suddenly exposed.

   "Nobody can see you," he laughed.  "Just get into the water."

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

   She felt wonderful.  It should always be like this.  Her back didn't
hurt at all.  Her breasts floated in front of her, no longer pulling her
forward.  She felt normal again.

   Bobby's hands were also wonderful.  He held her and touched her, sliding
his hands all over her swollen belly.  She turned her head for kisses and
he gave her orgasms by squeezing her nipples.  They'd both learned by now
that he didn't have to squeeze as hard, now that they were swollen and
preparing to feed milk to the baby.  They were ultra sensitive now and
repeated light squeezes set her off almost instantly.

   Sucking did too and Bobby loved to suck her nipples.  With the water
supporting her, she lay back, her belly just barely breaking the surface,
while he held her up with a hand in her back.  He bent over and gave her
orgasm after orgasm until she told him to stop.

   Then, copying him, she held his bulk up until his penis rose out of the
water like the periscope of a submarine.  Then she sucked him until he
spurted into her mouth.

   They floated and talked.  No boats ever came close.  It was delightful.
He even managed to get his penis in her pussy, but they didn't really make
love that way.  It was more play than anything else.  They kissed and
cuddled until her fingers wrinkled up like a prune.  He took her behind a
rock, where she could lie down and let the sun dry her skin.  Her hair
stayed damp, but when she got dressed again her clothes didn't stick to
her.

   When he took her home, he gave her three more orgasms, stroking her
clitty with his tongue and fingers, while kissing her, kneeling beside her
bed.  She was comfortable riding his long prick too, and if he held her up
with his hands on her shoulders, she could rock on him for a long time
without her back hurting.



   He turned a fan on her and left her lying naked, on top of the covers,
to take a nap.  The thick, rich sperm that had made her belly swell
overflowed from the mouth of her gaping pussy, but she didn't care.  She
could wash the bedspread later.

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

   By August, they'd had six customers at the B&B.  All of them had
expressed satisfaction with the accommodations.  Three had said they'd pass
the word on to friends.  Three had been businessmen who said they were
tired of staying in motels.  The others had been a couple, traveling
through, with their teenage son.  That had been over the 4th of July
holiday, when the motels were all full.  An acquaintance who worked at one
of the motels had recommended Dalton's.

   The twins were due the middle of the month and it was getting hard for
them to work at Renee's.  They both looked like they might have twins, to
Bobby, but his mother laughed when he said that.

   "Matilda is carrying a boy," she said, "and Betty will have a girl."

   "How in the world do you know that?" asked Bobby.

   "Matilda is carrying very low," said Mirriam.  "Just look at Betty. 
Hers is riding high.  Definitely a girl."

   "Sounds goofy to me," said Bobby.  "Did you carry me low?"

   "I don't remember," said his mother.

   "You're joshing me ...  aren't you?" He wasn't quite sure.

   "Me?" His mother grinned at him.  "Would I do that?"

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

   He found out, at least partly, when Matilda went into labor on the
twelfth of August.  Mirriam went with her to the hospital.  Matilda
practically squirted out a little boy.  After he was cleaned up, the nurse
handed him to Mirriam, who presented him to his mother.  Bobby stayed home
with Betty, who was beside herself, because they hadn't gone into labor
together.  She paced until Bobby ordered her to sit down and relax.

   She ignored him.

   The next day he took her to the hospital to see her sister.  Matilda
still had a deer-in-the-headlights look about her as she held the little
black-haired boy possessively.  She'd counted fingers and toes at least
five times.  She couldn't believe she had produced this beautiful little
thing that she already loved more than anything else in the world ...  even
her twin sister.

   "Wow," said Betty, inching closer to the bed.  Her hands were on her own
swollen belly.

   Matilda looked past Betty to Bobby.

   "I love you," she said, tears coming into her eyes.

   Bobby looked around, but only their mother was in the room.  She was
napping in a chair.  She'd raised her head to look at them when they came
in, smiled faintly, then put her head back down.  Bobby was holding
Theodore, who was four.  He wasn't actually supposed to be in the room, but
Bobby had just carried him past the nurses without asking.

   "Is that my brother?" he piped.

   "Sort of," said Bobby softly.

   "Can I play with him?"

   "Later, sport," said Bobby.  "How about you and me go find something to
eat."

   "Candy?"

   "No candy," came Mirriam's voice, from the corner.  Bobby looked over.
She hadn't raised her head and her eyes were still closed.

   "We'll see," said Bobby.  He made a kissing motion towards Matilda, who
was still looking at him.

   "I love you, Bobby," she said again, her voice almost breaking.  "Thank
you."

   "Any time," said Bobby, grinning.

   "No more!" said Mirriam.  She did raise her head this time and her eyes
bored into Bobby's.

   "I love you too, Tildy," said Bobby, winking at her.  He turned and
left.

   "Can I hold him?" asked Betty.  There was longing in her voice.

   "Ohhh Betty, he's sooo perfect!" moaned her sister.  She struggled to
hand the baby to her sister and suddenly Mirriam was there, helping with
the transfer.

   "What's his name?" asked Betty, staring into the tiny face.  He looked
so peaceful, like he was sleeping.

   "Joseph," said Matilda softly.  "After Daddy."

   "Not fair," cooed Betty.  "I wanted that name."

   "First come first served," smiled Matilda.

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

   Matilda came home the next day, on the fourteenth.  She had no sooner
gotten home, carrying her precious bundle of joy, and Bobby and Mirriam had
no sooner laid down the burdens they'd carried into the house, than Betty's
eyes widened and she said "Uh oh!"

   She looked down to see a dark stain spreading across the crotch of her
maternity shorts.

   Mirriam groaned.  She'd been at the hospital since she took Matilda.

   "I'm sorry, Mommy," whined Betty, looking scared.  Her face took on a
wrinkled appearance and she bent forward slightly.  "OW!" she yelled, as a
contraction rippled across her belly.

   "Breathe, Betty!" commanded her sister.  "It works.  Remember how we
practiced?  Breath like we practiced!"

   "I'll take her," said Bobby to their mother.  "Call Prudence.  You need
some sleep.  I'll stay with her until you or she get there.  At least get a
few hours sleep.  We'll be fine, won't we baby sister?"

   "OWWW!" groaned Betty, looking really scared now.

   Mirriam turned around.

   "We'll both take her.  She shouldn't be having contractions this close
together.  Not this soon." She lowered her voice and leaned toward Bobby
and Matilda.  "Something is wrong."

   "Call Prudence," said Bobby to Matilda.

   "You're going to leave me here all alone?" Matilda's voice rose.

   "You've been taking care of babies for over a year!" snapped Mirriam.

   "Oh ...  yeah." Matilda relaxed.  "OK.  Have fun!" She kissed Betty on
the cheek.  "And BREATHE!" she yelled as Betty waddled toward the back
door.

   Chapter Three



   Matilda's labor had only been seven hours.  Betty didn't know that yet.
Matilda had promised to tell her sister all about it when she got home,
but, obviously, there hadn't been time.  As Bobby helped Betty into the
back seat of the car, he noticed that the fluid leaking past Betty's shorts
was red ...  not clear.  He put his hand under her leg to help her heave
her bulk into the car and his hand came away red too.

   He closed the door and looked over at Mirriam, who was searching in her
purse for the keys.

   "I'll drive," he said tersely.  "You help her breathe." He went around
and, as he got closer, whispered.  "She's bleeding, Mamma.  I'm going to
drive fast, so buckle in."

   They got within two blocks of the hospital before Betty realized what
was happening.  Bobby fairly screeched to a stop by the ER doors and killed
the engine before sprinting for the ER, while Mirriam tried to keep her
daughter in the back seat until someone could come help.  By the time
Betty, who was freaking out, fought her way out of the back seat, two
attendants and a nurse were there with a gurney.

   They went straight through the waiting room, banging through two
swinging double doors.  Mirriam was allowed in.  Bobby was not.

   "We'll take care of her," said a burly female nurse, who Bobby would
always swear had a thin black moustache on her upper lip.  "You just sit
down and relax.  Your wife is in good hands."

   "She's my sister," said Bobby automatically.

   "Oh," said the nurse.  "Well you probably know her well enough to help
get the paperwork started then."

   She took him to an office, where he found out Mirriam had already filled
out the paperwork.  All he had to do was confirm which daughter they had
just brought in.

   He had only been gone fifteen minutes when he returned.  He almost ran
into his mother as she was escorted out of the double doors by another
nurse, who was talking to her.

   "Just go on up to the second floor," said the nurse.  "We'll have her up
there as soon as possible.  Even if she needs a transfusion, they can
finish that up there."

   "But where are they taking the baby?" asked a clearly half crazed
Mirriam.

   "Second floor!" barked the nurse.  She turned around and hurried back
through the double doors.

   "Baby?" Bobby was confused.

   Mirriam seemed to see him for the first time and fell against him,
crying.

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

   It turned out her tears were ones of relief, but it took three or four
minutes for Bobby to calm her down enough to get the information out of
her.

   Betty had suffered what the doctor had said was a detached placenta,
which was causing the bleeding.  They'd examined her right on the gurney
and the doctor had ordered them to take her straight to surgery for a
Cesarean section.  Mirriam had stood petrified, as Betty had screamed that
she felt like pushing.

   "The doctor was pulling the gurney toward the elevator doors," gasped
Mirriam.  "Betty was screaming that she wanted to push and the doctor said
it couldn't hurt anything and told her to go ahead!"

   Mirriam stopped and her eyes went out of focus.

   "And then she had the baby!" Mirriam's voice was hollow, still amazed by
what she'd seen.  "She pushed twice and had the baby right there in the
hallway!"

   "You're kidding!" gasped Bobby.

   A blood curdling scream came clearly through the double doors.  Both
Mirriam and Bobby recognized it as Betty's voice, and both of them started
for the doors.  The same burly nurse intercepted them as they pushed the
doors open.

   "She's all right," insisted the nurse, her voice urgent, but hushed. 
"When she had that baby, there hadn't been an episiotomy, and she tore. 
She lost so much blood that they couldn't wait.  They're sewing her up now.
There just wasn't time for anesthetic."

   Another agonized scream washed down the hall and Mirriam's eyes
overflowed with tears.

   "Can't you give me a mask or something?" she pleaded.

   The nurse seemed to waver, and then looked at Bobby.

   "All right, but only ONE of you!  You go sit down," she said, her eyes
pinned on Bobby.

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

   All in all, it only took an hour for things to calm down.  Once the
tearing had been taken care of, they gave Betty a sedative and she relaxed.
She had suffered no permanent injury, only loss of blood, and they gave her
a pint to offset that until her body could produce more.  While that was
going on, Bobby went up to the second floor.

   It was by chance that he ran into a nurse who had been recently hired.
When he asked to see the Dalton baby, she naturally thought he must be the
father.  She took him to the nursery, where a darling baby girl was wrapped
up, none the worse for wear, despite her tumultuous entry into the world.

   Bobby was the first to hold her, not counting the medical personnel.

   It was Bobby, in fact, who brought his newest daughter into Betty's
room, once she was settled in.  She and Mirriam turned their eyes to the
man holding the baby.  The sedative notwithstanding, Betty burst into tears
as her daughter was laid on her chest.

   Ten minutes later, when a staff member entered the room to complete the
required paperwork, Betty named her daughter Veronica.  It was not one of
the names she had mentioned before and Mirriam had to ask her about that.

   "From the comic books," she said, gazing adoringly at the little girl in
her arms.  "Betty's best friend was Veronica."

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

   Once things settled down at home, Bobby took the chance to get away by
taking Agatha Roberts to a museum in Wichita.  They talked on the way and
he took her to a burger joint.  It had been literally years since Agatha's
mouth had been awash with the rich tastes of hamburger, fries and a
strawberry shake.  She felt positively decadent as her body reacted to the
explosion of sensations in her mouth.

   By the time he dropped her off at her house ...  after dark so no one
would be likely to see them together ...  she was more confused than ever
about Bobby Dalton.  He was so nice!  He was such fun to be with!  He
didn't molest her or act sexually aggressive in any way!

   Her world wasn't making sense any more, at least insofar as this man was
concerned.  It made her wonder what other facets of her life might be based
on shaky data.

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

   On a Friday night, the twenty-sixth of August, Bobby was reading in bed
when Betty's urgent voice called him to the living room, where she had been
watching TV.  He got there to see Misty Compton on TV, leaving what was
obviously a hospital, holding a bundle in her arms.  Madge was there with
her and looked distinctly uncomfortable in the background, as the camera
centered on Misty.  She was being peppered with questions about the baby in
her arms and, in particular, who the father of that baby was.  There was a
man with her who Bobby recognized as her agent.  He was trying to hold
Misty's elbow, but she kept pulling it away from him.  Misty held up her
hand as flashbulbs kept popping.  There were obviously a lot of people
there.

   "I'd like to introduce Shawnee Compton to you," she said, without
preamble.

   "Compton?" asked the interviewer.  "Aren't you going to name the baby
after its father?"

   Misty leaned toward the microphone and smiled.

   "I met Shawnee's father while I was on tour," she said.  "I bumped into
him accidentally.  Everybody has accidents," she said.

   "You mean everybody makes mistakes," said the interviewer.

   Misty kept smiling.  "I meant what I said.  Shawnee was an accident, but
she's certainly no mistake.  I love my daughter.  That it's impossible for
us to be with her father right now is regrettable, but don't ever call her
a mistake."

   "Who IS Shawnee's father?" insisted the interviewer.

   "I don't have any privacy," said Misty, looking around at the crowd
around her.  "I can live with that.  I love all of you for being so
interested in me and my music.  But her father deserves his privacy. 
You'll just have to be satisfied with me for now."

   "Are you going to marry him?" yelled someone off camera and off mike.

   Her smile never wavered.  "He hasn't asked me yet," she said.  "If he
ever does, then I might have more to say on that subject."

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

   Bobby turned to find three women staring at him.  Two of them held
infants in their arms.

   "You are SO bad, Bobby!" sighed Betty.

   "I can't believe you didn't offer to marry Misty Compton!" moaned
Matilda.

   Mirriam just rolled her eyes.

   "We talked about it," said Bobby.  "She wouldn't LET me ask her.  Her
mamma was right there too!"

   "You are SO bad!" repeated Betty.

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

   Lest the reader be tricked into thinking that the twins were disgusted
with Bobby, let the record be set straight.  They were not disgusted.  Both
girls had ample experience in dealing with babies, though admittedly not
babies quite that young.  Still, as they settled into the role of mothers,
they were delighted.  It was only natural, as they felt the upwelling of
intense emotional attachment to their offspring, that they felt an intense
emotional attachment to the father of those offspring.

   The girls had shared a room their entire lives.  Having babies added to
that mix was interesting.  Even though the babies weren't twins, they were
treated as if they were.  And, to some degree, they acted like twins.  They
slept together and tended to be hungry at the same time.

   Still, it was a little crowded.  There was some talk, in the beginning,
about splitting into separate rooms, but no one was happy with that idea.
The extra rooms were needed for the B&B operation, for one thing.  And
the twins couldn't conceive of living apart.

   It was while Bobby was in the barn, one day, that he got an idea.  The
barn, as a structure, was old, but solid.  The roof was only three years
old and the interior never got wet, even in the strongest storms.  In the
past, it had been used to store the equipment needed to farm the land, but
since Mirriam rented the land out to other farmers these days, much of it
was empty.

   As Bobby looked around, it occurred to him that he could build a house,
of sorts, inside the barn.  One end of the lower section could be used for
such a purpose, creating, in effect, four or five rooms.  As he stood
there, his feet on the dusty ground, he envisioned a common area, with
living room, kitchen and laundry facilities, with two and possibly three
rooms around it that could be used either as bedrooms for B&B customers
or as rooms for the staff of the B&B to live in, freeing bedrooms in
the house.  From the inside of such an "apartment," the only thing that
would suggest they were inside a barn would be the lack of windows.  And,
since there would be two sides of the barn involved, even that obstacle
could be overcome with the right planning.

   He waited until he'd completed drawings of the idea to talk to his
mother.  Her reaction was both more ...  and less than he’d expected.


   "It's an interesting idea," she said.  "We have plenty of time to think
about it, though."

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

   Bobby got up and looked at the clock.  It was two in the morning.  The
babies had been crying for half an hour.  He went to the twins’ door
and tapped on it before walking in.

   Both babies were distressed.  The girls had eaten a bowl of chili for
supper, without thinking about the effect the beans would have on their
breast milk.  Both were pacing, trying to comfort babies who didn't
understand what the pain in their bellies meant.  Both were tired.  Caring
for a baby at Renee's was a part time job.  This wasn't.

   Bobby took his turn holding and patting the backs of crying babies,
since no one could sleep.  An hour and a half later, they calmed.  It
wasn't until after that that Mirriam arrived, bottles of formula ready for
the infants.

   That left Betty and Matilda with swollen breasts full of milk that
wasn't suitable for their children.

   While Mirriam fed the babies in one room, the girls fed Bobby in
another. Both expressed disappointment that it would be almost another
month before they would have the doctor's clearance to have sex again.

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

   September brought unseasonably cool weather with it, and temperatures
dropped nightly into the high thirties.  Agatha had learned how to light
her furnace after Harry's death, but she still lay under three blankets,
snuggling in the warmth they provided and thinking.

   Bobby had taken her someplace almost weekly.  She was always amazed at
the kind of things he took her to do.  She wore her hair in a ponytail more
and more these days, because it was so simple to deal with that way.  It
also made her feel younger, for some reason, and she liked that.  So too
did the things Bobby took her to do.  Hutchinson was close by and no one
there knew her, so it was a popular destination for what she began thinking
of more and more as dates.  He had taken her bowling one night.  She had
bowled as a teenager and that came back to her easily, though she didn't do
all that well.

   Now, snug in bed, she thought about what they'd done this evening.  It
brought a mix of emotions to her.  He'd taken her roller skating, again in
Hutch.  That was something she hadn't done much in high school.  He was
obviously not very accomplished either.  They had ended up holding on to
each other most of the night, just to stay upright ...  and that was what
was causing her confusion.

   At first she thought he must be posturing ...  that he was better than
he was acting and just wanted an excuse to touch her.  That she needed
something ...  or someone ...  to hold on to had overcome her natural
resistance to being in close contact with him.

   But it had become clear that he really WAS as inexperienced at this as
she was.  That seemed odd, because a man didn't make himself look foolish
when he was trying to seduce a woman.  And that meant he wasn't trying to
seduce her.  But he kept asking her to go places with him.  It was very
confusing.

   She remembered the feel of his strong hands on her waist and shoulders.
He could have grabbed at other parts of her body, but twice he let himself
fall instead of doing that.  And she remembered the feel of his muscles
under the shirt he was wearing, as she’d gripped his arm and waist.
Even his hips had been hard as rock, so much different than the soft flab
that Harry had had all over his body.

   She smiled in the dark.  It had been fun!  Even as foolish as she'd
felt, it had been fun, because HE was just as silly, trying to skate and
only barely succeeding.

   But he obviously wasn't trying to seduce her.

   That confused her.  He'd said she was young.  He'd said she looked nice.
He'd admitted he went around with a lot of women.  She KNEW, deep inside
her, that some of those women had done things with him ...  nasty things
... in the dark ...  just like where she was at this moment.

   "What's wrong with me?" she asked herself.  "Why isn't he trying to
seduce me?"

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

   Agatha woke.  Her sleep had been troubled ...  she knew she'd dreamed
... but she couldn't remember the dreams.  She got up, as she usually did,
and her bare feet hit cold floor.  It was freezing!

   She put her robe on over her nightgown and hurried to the furnace.  The
pilot light was out.  She knelt, peering inside the little door as she
tried to relight it with a match.  It wouldn't light.  She tried again,
pushing hard on the button with one finger and holding the match where she
knew it was supposed to go.  Still nothing.  She tried a third time, with
the same results.

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

   "This is Bobby," he said, answering the phone.

   "It's Agatha," she said.

   "I'm surprised," he said.  "After last night I was afraid you'd never
talk to me again.  How are your bruises?"

   She found herself smiling.  "It wasn't that bad," she said.  She was
surprised because she meant it.  "But that's not why I'm calling.  I can't
get my furnace to light and it's freezing.  Do you know anything about
furnaces?"

   "Give me an hour," he said.

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

   She was shivering.  She'd put on a dress and a sweater, and was hugging
herself, but it was still cold.  She looked at the tight jeans stretched
over the backside of Bobby Dalton's behind, while he tinkered with the
furnace.  She realized she'd been staring at that backside for some time
and blushed, looking away.  He'd removed the front panel of the furnace and
she looked at that, leaning against the wall.

   He got up.

   "As best I can tell, the regulator isn't working.  He had a flashlight
and turned it on.  "And, besides that, I noticed something here." He
pointed to something at the top of the furnace.  "There's a crack there,"
he said.  "It's in the combustion chamber and that's not good.  I think you
need a new furnace."

   "Can you do that?" she asked.

   "If it were at my house, I might," he said, doubtfully.  "I'm not
comfortable doing it for you, though.  Gas is risky stuff.  I think you
should get a professional to do it."

   "I don't know anything about buying a furnace," she moaned.

   "That I can help you with," he said.

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

   It had warmed up by the time the negotiations were finished and Agatha
was slated for a new furnace.  The problem was that the man was busy and
couldn't get to the job for two or three days.  As they left the plumbing
and heating shop, Agatha didn't know what to do.

   "It was freezing this morning," she said.  "I can't stay in the house
with no furnace."

   It just seemed natural to stop on the sidewalk, as they talked about
what to do next.

   "Can you afford to stay at a motel?" he asked.

   "I can afford it," she said.  "But being in a strange place ...  all
alone?" She shuddered.

   "We've got a room free at the B&B," he said.  "More than one, I
think."

   She stared at him.  "You're joking!"

   "I am?" He looked confused.  "Why would I do that?"

   It didn't take him long to figure it out.

   "Ahhhhh," he said, almost smiling.  "You couldn't possibly go out there
and stay at a den of iniquity."

   Agatha bristled.  "What would my friends think?" she said automatically.


   "If they'd think that about you ...  how can you call them your
friends?" he asked, no longer feeling the urge to smile.  "Am I the beast
you thought I was?"

   It never occurred to Agatha that he might have been tempering his
otherwise normal urges while he was with her.  She believed that people had
certain kinds of personalities and that those personalities drove their
actions.  She was the kind of person who used platitudes like “You
can’t change a leopard’s spots.”

   "No," she said and was immediately sorry she had.  This wasn't going
according to her plan.  "I don't think so," she amended.

   He sighed.  "OK, then, why don't you just stay with one of your
friends?"

   Agatha thought about that.  The thought of being an extra wheel in
Gladys’ or Ethyl's house, with their husbands there ...  She'd be
under foot.  She'd be around whichever one of them she stayed with all the
time.  She wondered briefly why that made her feel uncomfortable.  Still
... it was better than going out there and living under the same roof as
... that woman.  She turned to tell Bobby that she'd call Ethyl, only to
see that very woman walking toward them, accompanied by her husband, Phil.

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

   They were standing between Rader's plumbing and heating and the shop
next door to it, which was a flower shop and which was Ethyl's destination.
She needed to order flowers to be sent to the funeral of one of her
cousins. Of course Agatha didn't know that.  All she knew was that Ethyl
had seen her standing and talking to Bobby Dalton.  Panic set in instantly.
It included the infusion of blood to her chest and cheeks in a blush that
almost made her appear to have a sunburn.  Ethyl stopped a few feet away, a
frown on her face, and questions in her eyes.

   "My furnace broke!" Agatha blurted.  She stepped away from Bobby. 
"Bobby ...  Mister Dalton tried to fix it ...  but couldn't." She added
weakly.

   Bobby turned his head to look at her, seeing the fear in her stiff
stance, then looked at Ethyl and Phil.  Phil seemed bored, as if there were
no one present that he was interested in greeting or talking to.

   Ethyl stared at her friend, who was obviously embarrassed much more than
was required, if what she'd just said was all that was wrong.  And if ...
this man ...  hadn't been able to fix the furnace ...  what was he doing
with her here?  Suspicion bloomed in her mind.  Agatha was a single woman.
Bobby Dalton was well known to prey on such women.  Ethyl had always
thought of Agatha as something of a weakling.  It was easy for her to
assume that Bobby Dalton had used this opportunity to wiggle his way into
Agatha's confidence.

   "I was just going to ask you if I could stay with you for a few days,"
said Agatha, trying not to blush and failing.  "While they put a new
furnace in."

   Ethyl's eyes narrowed.  "I'm afraid that won't be possible," she said.
“We have to go to a funeral in Missouri.  I'm just here seeing about
flowers for that very thing."

   Phil perked up then.

   "I thought we were just going to send flowers," he objected.

   "You misunderstood me, dear," his wife said smoothly.  "Now, we have to
go.  There is much to do to get ready." She turned back to Agatha.  "Good
day, Agatha," she said.

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

   Agatha stood, staring after her friend who had hurried inside the flower
shop, dragging her husband with her.  Her blush was gone.  It had been
replaced by a pasty white look, as the blood drained from her face and a
cold, hard knot of fear settled into her stomach.

   "I can't believe that!" she gasped.

   "Believe what?" asked Bobby.

   "She just snubbed me!" squealed Agatha.

   "What are you talking about?" asked Bobby.

   "You heard him!  They weren't planning on driving to Missouri.  She only
said that because she saw me with you!"

   "I'm sorry," said Bobby.  "I was just trying to help."

   "I know that!" she snapped.  "I can't believe she DID that!"

   She stopped and slumped.

   "I'm ruined," she moaned.

   "You're not serious," said Bobby.  "Come on, it's not THAT bad."

   "Yes it is," she said firmly.  "You don't know her.  Inside of half an
hour nobody will talk to me.  You just watch!"

   Chapter Four



   To say it was uncomfortable in the kitchen, when Bobby ushered Agatha
Roberts into it, is a bit of an understatement.  He explained that he'd
offered her a room at the B&B while her furnace was being installed.

   The twins were back at work now, their own infants part of Renee's
collection of children.  The latest customers of the B&B had left that
morning, climbing into their car with a satisfied wave at Mirriam, to go on
their way.  They had praised the accommodations, both for the service and
because it wasn't any more expensive than staying in town, when the meal
was factored in.  Mirriam had been reading a magazine at the kitchen table
when Bobby and Agatha arrived.

   "You ...  want to stay here?" Mirriam's voice was full of suspicion.

   "I have to," said Agatha, her voice tight.

   "There are complications," said Bobby, trying to be helpful.

   Mirriam looked at her son, who was standing closer to the woman than she
would have expected.  Her suspicions flared even more.  Surely he hadn't
gotten involved with THIS woman!  Bobby saw the thunder clouds gathering in
his mother's eyes.

   "I was trying to fix her furnace," he said easily.  "It turned out to be
something I couldn't do, so I helped her arrange to get a new one
installed. One of her friends saw us together and ...  well, it seems she
has no place to stay now ...  while the new furnace is being installed."

   Mirriam felt relief first.  If she'd had more time to think about it,
she might have wondered why Agatha Roberts would have called Bobby to come
see to her furnace in the first place, but events had already outpaced the
time she had to react.  Mirriam Dalton was, at heart, a woman who believed
that tolerance was the bedrock of truly civilized people.  That she and her
friends did not receive the benefit of tolerance made it no less ingrained
in her own personality.

   Putting aside her misgivings, she welcomed Agatha Roberts to her home.

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

   Mirriam's misgivings popped back up through the rest of the day, as she
and Agatha did their best to be in different parts of the house.  At one
point Mirriam entertained thoughts that Agatha might be spying on them,
trying to document something that could be used against them.  She didn't
know what that might be or how anything COULD be used against them, but she
worried.

   When evening came, however, and the twins got back home, and it was
obvious the woman wasn't going out for supper, Mirriam simply put another
plate on the table and invited Agatha to eat with them.

   "That's not part of your service," said Agatha, looking up from the
magazine she'd been leafing through.  She didn't know what to do with
herself in this strange house.

   "I know," said Mirriam.  "I've set a place.  You can join us or not, as
you wish."

   The fact was that Agatha's stomach was already rumbling.  She'd missed
lunch.  Bobby had disappeared about an hour after he'd brought her here,
before she’d realized she should have brought her own car here
instead of riding with him.

   The twins were used to ignoring people who didn't approve of them. 
They'd grown up with a kind of social armor that had let the disapproving
looks bounce right off.  And, both had their babies to tend to.  Both girls
were used to breastfeeding wherever and whenever they needed to.  After
everyone was seated, Matilda cooed into Joseph's face "You're a hungry
little man, aren't you!"

   Mirriam casually said "Feed him in the bedroom, please."

   Matilda looked up, then at Agatha, who was paying attention to the food
on her plate.

   "Sure," said Matilda, rising.

   Bobby came in while Matilda was walking out.

   "Sorry I'm late," he said, washing his hands at the kitchen sink.  "I
wanted to get the fence finished over at the Tucker place before I
stopped."

   "How is she?" asked Mirriam, referring to Louise Tucker, a woman of
indeterminate age who lived in a tiny house on the edge of town.

   "She's fine," said Bobby.  "Her daughter hasn't called her in a week and
she was fussing about that.  I took it that her daughter is sick and Louise
is afraid she'll outlive her."

   "What was wrong with her fence?" asked Mirriam.

   "She's got that little terrier.  It found a place to get out of the
fence and barked at the mail man.  He squirted soapy water in its face and
Louise got all upset.  She says the dog is fifteen years old and can't see
well enough to bite anybody.  She asked me to fix the fence to protect her
dog." He grinned.

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

   Agatha sat listening to the chatter at the table.  It was odd, somehow,
though she couldn't put her finger on why.  The girls she remembered as
being skinny thirteen year olds were all grown up now.  She looked at them
with their illegitimate babies, acting normal as pie.  It was obvious they
loved them and weren't ashamed at all.  That was mildly confusing to her,
but the food was so good and the table talk so pleasant, that she just let
it surround her.

   It wasn't until Mirriam offered her a piece of chocolate cake that she
realized, with a start, what the oddity was.  There hadn't been any gossip!
Oh, they had talked about people they ran into that day, but it was just
things like "I saw Mrs.  Thompson today.  Her bursitis is better," or like
what Bobby had said about poor old Louise and her dog.  She also realized
that she had expected something much different, unconsciously.  She had
expected them to try to make her an outcast ...  just like Gladys or Ethyl
...  or she would have done, had the roles been reversed.  In her mind's
eye she could just see Mirriam Dalton sitting at a table with the other
women, forced to be there for some unknown reason.  Gladys and Ethyl would
have used the opportunity to throw barbs at her about her loose-willed
daughters or the fact that she had her own little boy, born, like all her
daughters, out of wedlock.

   She looked at Theodore, who was playing with his food.  He'd been
included in the conversation too.  Both the twins and Bobby had asked him
what he'd done that day.  He’d proudly shown them pictures he'd drawn
with crayons and they had all complimented him on them.

   But these people hadn't spoken harshly to her.  True, very little had
been spoken to her at all, as the conversation ebbed and flowed, but she
had the distinct impression that that was as much her own doing as theirs.
She'd spent most of the meal looking at her plate instead of trying to get
into the conversation.

   Theodore looked back at her.  He smiled.

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

   After supper Bobby took Agatha back to her house to pick up her car and
whatever else she needed.

   "I hope you understand why I can't take you anywhere while you're
staying with us," he said.  "My mother wouldn't understand."

   Agatha felt the pins and pricks of being discriminated against for
something she had no control over.  It was merely an extension of Ethyl
discriminating against her too.  She suddenly felt very lonely.

   "I have a confession to make." It was out of her mouth before she
realized it.

   "What?" asked Bobby.

   She had been about to blurt out her plan ...  to tell him how she'd
tried to destroy him.  Her heart seized in her chest as she thought of
being left alone in her cold house, no longer welcome anywhere in this
town.

   "Nothing," she said.

   "You sure?" he asked.

   She thought frantically for something to say.  "Your mother is nicer
than I thought," she said.

   "Thank you," he said.

   "You're nicer too," she blurted.

   "Thanks again." He smiled at her and she felt even worse for having
planned to ruin his life.  "You want me to wait for you?" he asked.

   "No," she said.  "I'll be along shortly."

   "OK," he said.  "While I'm in town I'm going to go get some ice cream.
You know how they say pregnant women want ice cream and pickles?  Not my
sisters.  Not while they were pregnant, anyway.  Now that they've given
birth they want all kinds of strange things to eat."

   The ease with which he shared this little piece of information about his
family only shoved the hot spike of guilt further into Agatha's belly.  She
turned away.

   "Go get your ice cream," she said, her voice trembling.  "I'll be
along."

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

   It was full dark when she finally pulled into the yard and parked.  She
almost hadn't come.  She'd looked for more blankets, thinking to pile them
all on the bed so she wouldn't have to face the people she felt so guilty
about.  But she knew that not returning would be a slap in Mirriam Dalton's
face.  After the hospitality she had offered, Agatha couldn't slap her in
the face.  She was amazed that she no longer WANTED to slap Mirriam
Dalton's face.

   Even after leaving the house and getting in her car, she had been
ambivalent.  She'd driven around, more to have time to work up her courage
than for any other reason.  She'd driven by Ethyl's house.  The lights were
on and the car was there.  Ethyl, her friend for years and years, had lied
outright to her.

   That headed her car toward the farm.

   And so, here she was, looking at the warm yellow light that spilled out
of the windows of a house where, despite who she was, she was welcome.

   She got out of her car and got the suitcase that she'd put some clothes
in and a book to read.  She turned and dropped the suitcase with a thump,
jumping back with a terrified squeak.  Bobby was standing right next to
her!

   "Sorry!" he said, stepping back.  "I was just coming back from the
chicken coop with eggs for tomorrow morning.  I didn't mean to startle
you."

   She saw the basket in his hand, with the eggs in it, and relaxed.  She
felt silly for being so scared.  She watched him reach down and pick up the
suitcase.  Then she followed him into the house.

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

   When they walked into the house, Betty was standing at the kitchen
counter, scooping out some of the ice cream Bobby had brought home.  She
was dressed only in panties and a T shirt that showed quite plainly that
her milk-swollen breasts were not confined in a bra.  She looked over at
them and her eyes widened.

   "Oops!" she yipped.  "I forgot we had a guest!"

   Agatha watched the startled young woman scurry out of the kitchen ... 
with her ice cream in hand ...  and turned to see what Bobby's reaction
was. He was watching her go too and he was smiling.  His eyes had a look to
them that suggested he liked what he was seeing.  She remembered that look
in Harry's eyes, when they had first gotten married.  It was the first time
she'd ever seen anything in Bobby's eyes that suggested he thought like a
...  man.

   He went to the counter, put the egg basket on it and put her suitcase
down.  He put away the ice cream Betty had left on the counter and, as if
nothing had happened, picked up her suitcase again.

   "I'll just take this to your room," he said, glancing over at her.  That
look was no longer in his eye.

   She thought to just follow him.  She could stay in her room, reading,
until she got sleepy.  But that wild look that had been in his eye ... 
that look of maleness ...  made something from supper twitch in her
stomach. If she followed him, she'd be in a bedroom with him.  She felt the
blush stain her cheeks and wondered why that bothered her.  She'd been
alone with him in that tree house.  There were people here with them.  She
didn't have more time to puzzle about that, because Mirriam came into the
room.

   "There you are," she said.  "I was just thinking about heading to bed,
but I wanted to wait up for you.  Is there anything you need?"

   "I'm fine," said Agatha.

   "There are towels in the bathroom," said Mirriam.  "You can take a
shower or a bath, if you like.  Breakfast is at eight, but if that's too
early I can leave it warming in the oven."

   "Thank you," said Agatha, feeling something rising in her throat.  She
swallowed, as Mirriam flashed a smile.

   "You're welcome."

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

   Matilda was the only person in the living room when Agatha wandered in.
The relaxed atmosphere in the house was further exemplified by the fact
that Matilda was calmly suckling her baby while she was watching
television. She was wearing shorts, like the ones Agatha owned but rarely
wore and, like her sister, did not have on a bra.  She had pulled up her T
shirt and while the baby was sucking at one breast, her fingers seemed to
be squeezing the other nipple.  Agatha stopped short and stared.

   Agatha had never seen a woman breastfeeding before.  Something visceral
welled up inside her.  She knew she should be upset by this woman flaunting
her breast in public.  Then it occurred to Agatha that this wasn't public.
This was this woman's home.  Something must have alerted Matilda that
someone else was in the room, because she turned her head.

   Like Betty, her eyes widened.

   "I'm sorry," she said, trying to stand up.  "I thought you were in bed."


   "Stay there," said Agatha, impulsively.

   "You sure?" asked Matilda, sinking back into the chair.  "I can go to my
bedroom."

   "You live here," said Agatha.  "It's all right.  I should be the one to
leave."

   "I don't mind," said the young woman.  "If you don't."

   Agatha felt like she should leave.  But she didn't want to leave.  She
took a few tentative steps into the room.

   "I've never actually seen anybody feeding a baby," she said.

   "It's messy," said Matilda, smiling.  "I have to hold one closed while
he sucks at the other one or I'll leak all over the place.  Mamma keeps
trying to get me to use a nursing bra, but they feel so confining."

   She looked back at the TV, which was turned down low.

   "What do you want to watch?" she asked.  "I'm just killing time while my
greedy little boy stuffs himself."

   "I don't really watch much TV," said Agatha.  She went a few more steps
and sat, a little stiffly, in another chair.



   The baby fussed and Matilda looked down.  She did what looked like a
complicated maneuver that turned the baby from one direction to the other
and put the nipple she had been holding closed at its mouth.  It latched on
and sucked noisily.

   "Doesn't that hurt?" asked Agatha.  She blushed, astonished that she'd
spoken the question aloud.

   "Not at all." There was something buttery in the woman's voice ...  some
husky quality that suggested pain was in no way shape or form involved. 
She pulled the T shirt down over the empty breast.

   Agatha just sat and watched.  She felt warm suddenly and took off the
sweater she'd been wearing.  Matilda fiddled with the baby's mouth.

   "Don't quit now," she complained.  "You always do this to me.  You empty
one and get the other one going, then go to sleep.  Now I'm going to have
to go get ..." She stopped and looked up at Agatha, almost furtively. 
"I'll just go put him down to sleep," said Matilda.

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

   TV didn't interest Agatha.  Her book was in her suitcase.  She had no
idea where Bobby was, but he probably wasn't in her room.  She got up and
stopped at the table where a jigsaw puzzle was half put together.  She
liked puzzles, so she sat down.

   She was fully involved in working on it when a shadow fell over the
table.  She looked up to see Bobby.

   "Want any help?" he asked.

   "All right," she said.

   He sat down.  There was something white on the corner of his lip.  He
saw her looking at his mouth and his hand came up to wipe it away.

   "Toothpaste," he said calmly.

   "Oh," she said.

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

   When she looked at her watch she was astonished to see it was almost
midnight.  She and Bobby had been working on the puzzle for hours.  There
had been very little talk, but it didn't bother her.  There didn't seem to
be any need for it.  They'd also gotten a lot of the puzzle put together.

   "Whoever started this is going to be mad at us," she said, putting
another piece in.

   "I doubt it," he said.  "If we finish it we can always just tear it up
again and let someone else do it too."

   That would never have occurred to Agatha.  When you finished a puzzle
you admired it, then put it back in the box and put the box away.  Wasn't
that what everyone did?  Besides, it was only seventy-five percent done and
it was already midnight.

   "We can't finish it," she said.  "It's too late."

   "I'm working here tomorrow," he said.  "I can sleep late.  You have
anything better to do?"

   "It's midnight!" she sighed.  "It's long past bedtime."

   "Bedtime should be whenever you feel like going to bed.  Do you feel
like going to bed?"

   The emotion that zipped through Agatha had nothing to do with Bobby's
intent.  It was just a quirk of her ears as they singled out his line: "Do
you feel like going to bed?" It's understandable that the way in which she
had viewed this man, whom she and her friend suspected of sleeping around,
might cause her to interpret those words a little differently than the
spirit in which they were used.

   For a few seconds her mind buzzed with the concept that he had just
suggested THEY go to bed ...  together.  Then the events of the past days
and weeks brought clarity back to her mind.  Of course that wasn't what
he'd meant.

   "You OK?" he asked, looking with concern at her pale face.

   Something almost snapped inside Agatha Roberts.  She couldn't remember
the last time Harry had spent this much time doing anything with her.  She
couldn't remember the last time ANYONE had spent this much time with her.
She felt the urge to touch him and that scared her.  She stood, bumping the
card table with her thighs.

   "It's late," she gasped.

   Then she hurried to her room.

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

   Bobby sat, watching Agatha's retreating form.  He recognized what he'd
seen in her eyes, but he couldn't believe it.  There, for a few seconds,
he'd seen desire.  He leaned back in his chair, still looking at where she
had disappeared from view.  She was always a bundle of repressed emotion.
She seemed angry at one moment, distant at another, calm the next second.
She'd been terrified when they ran into Ethyl and Phil, then hopeless. 
She'd been subdued at supper, but calm and relaxed as all get out while
they worked on the puzzle.  He looked at the puzzle and again compared her
to one.

   He stood.  Matilda had come to him to have her breast emptied.  Betty
had not.  He hadn't seen her since she left the kitchen with her ice cream.


   He went to their room, tapped softly and went in.

   Matilda was already in bed, the covers pulled over her head.  Betty was
sitting at the vanity, brushing her hair.  She looked at him in the mirror.


   "I wondered where you were," said Betty, taking her T shirt off.  "It's
about time."

   Chapter Five



   The next day was a day of further education for Agatha.  Breakfast
finally settled her down after a night of tossing and turning that included
a number of thoughts she was quite sure she wasn't supposed to be having.
They weren't all about Bobby.  She spent a lot of time reviewing her
relationship with Harry, which she thought was stupid, since he was dead
and gone.  She also thought about her friends.  She had to admit to herself
that they were most likely her ex-friends now.  She thought about Matilda
feeding her baby, and the obvious closeness that involved, between mother
and child.  A month ago she would have been scandalized if she'd seen a
woman breastfeeding in front of others.  But what she'd watched
couldn’t possibly be put into the category of "wrong." It was too
beautiful.

   She also thought of Bobby.  He hadn't meant what he'd said the way she'd
first interpreted it.  She knew that.  What bothered her now, and what she
couldn't even begin to understand, was that for some reason she wished he
had meant it that way.

   The routine of breakfast banished her worries, though.  She was
surprised when other people arrived at the house to join in breakfast and
that they were there to help Bobby finish the interior walls of two more
rooms that would become part of the B&B.  She knew who Prudence Harris
was, of course, and her daughter as well.  Her initial feelings upon seeing
the woman with her illegitimate children were negative, but she pushed them
away.  Meanwhile, Prudence's eyes almost popped out of her head when she
saw Agatha.  Instead of feeling smug, however, Agatha felt guilty.

   "Agatha is boarding with us for a few days, while her furnace is
installed," said Mirriam, as if it were just simple news.

   "I see," said Prudence, who obviously did not see.  She looked away. 
"So where is the slave driver who ordered us to come labor for him?"

   "Haven't seen him this morning," said Mirriam, serving up eggs with
biscuits and gravy.  "The twins are already gone."

   "We stayed up late, working on a puzzle." Agatha blinked.  She couldn't
believe she'd spoken.

   "I'll go get him," said Constance, taking a step.  She stopped.  "Should
I take a glass of cold water with me?" she asked, grinning.

   "You have to work for him today," said Mirriam.  "Just remember that."

   "Hmmmm," said Constance.  "Maybe I should rethink that plan." She smiled
again and went out of the kitchen.

   Prudence looked over at Agatha, curiosity plain in her eyes.

   "So ...  you're getting a new furnace ...”

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

   "Get up, lazy bones!" yipped Constance, whipping the covers off of
Bobby. She stopped, staring at his morning boner.  She told herself she
should have known he'd sleep naked.  She'd forgotten what he looked like
too.  She backed up as he raised his head and squinted at her.

   "It's tomorrow you're supposed to be here," he groaned.  "Not today."

   She ignored his nakedness.  "No it's not.  You said today and we're
here, so get your lazy butt out of bed and teach me to finish drywall.

   "Why do you hate me?" he moaned, rolling over and curling up into a
ball.

   She went to stand next to the bed.

   "I don't hate you, you oaf!  I should, the way you torment me, but I
don't."

   She started pinching him all over his exposed skin.

   He moved like lightning and she wasn't prepared for it when she was
pulled over, to lie half on top of him as he hugged her to him, trapping
her arms next to her body.  He started tickling her with the fingers on the
hands that were wrapped like iron around her.  She was helpless, but she
struggled anyway, grinding her breasts against his chest.  The only thing
she could do was bite his nose.  She clamped down harder than she meant to
and he went still.

   "OK, OK," he said, into her chin.  "I give up." His hands left her alone
and his arms relaxed.  She let go of his nose and lifted her face up,
putting her hands on the bed next to his armpits.  Their faces were inches
apart as she stared into his eyes.

   He lifted his head and planted a soft, quick kiss on her lips.

   "I'll get up," he said, when he was done.

   She climbed off of him, but stood there waiting, as he got up and got
dressed.

   Neither of them seemed to mind his nakedness.

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

   The education continued for Agatha as she learned that not only was
Mirriam willing to accept her, despite their past, Prudence and her
daughter were too.  Not that she had anything against Constance.  She'd
properly married, though Agatha couldn't remember seeing her husband around
for quite some time.

   When Constance brought Bobby back to the kitchen, he seemed to ignore
Agatha.  Once again she was immersed in an atmosphere of easy jocularity as
they all ate breakfast together.

   Then Bobby and the Harris women went off to work on the rooms, leaving
Mirriam and Agatha in the kitchen.

   "Do you need any help?" asked Agatha.  It was the decent thing to do.

   "You're a guest," said Mirriam.  "We don't make our guests work."

   "Bobby never told me how much you charge," said Agatha.  "Not that it
matters, I suppose.  I didn't want to go to a motel."

   "We'll work something out," said Mirriam.  "You're in a bind.  It's not
like you're on vacation, kicking up your heels." She stopped.  "Come to
think of it, you CAN work for your board.  I've got laundry to do and these
dishes.  You want to work so you don't have to pay?"

   "I couldn't do that!" said Agatha.

   "Oh," said Mirriam, a little stiffly.  She'd forgotten how snooty Agatha
and her friends were.  "Of course not."

   She might as well have told Agatha what she'd been thinking.  It was
plain on her face.

   "I didn't mean it that way," said Agatha, defending herself.  "You run a
business here.  I'm sure you depend on the money you make, and you've fed
me too ...  supper I mean.  I couldn't possibly do enough work to make up
for all that."

   "Oh," said Mirriam again.  She felt her face get hot as shame claimed
some of her blood supply.  "Forgive me.  I guess I'm just not used to
dealing with ..." She stopped and looked away, flushing harder.

   "I'll do the dishes," said Agatha.  "We can find something else later."

   Mirriam turned around, her face still dark.

   "Done," she said.

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

   As it turned out, Agatha found plenty of things to do that morning.  She
was used to cleaning, so she simply thought about the things she did at
home and did them here.  She was cleaning the blinds in the living room
when Mirriam came in.

   "I'm so embarrassed," said Mirriam.  "Those haven't been cleaned in
ages."

   "It's nothing," said Agatha, enjoying actually being able to make a
difference.  "I'm surprised my blinds haven't worn away as much as I clean
them.  I don't really have anything else to do, since Harry passed."

   "I guess the children kept me busy when Joe was killed," said Mirriam,
automatically.

   "Joe?" Agatha's question was automatic too.  She'd been too young to pay
attention to a drifter named Joe, when he'd been around.

   Mirriam thought long and hard before saying anything.  It occurred to
her that some of the people Agatha was friends with probably already
suspected who some of Joe’s children were anyway.  So what did it
hurt?

   "He was the father of my daughters," she said.

   Of course Mirriam's daughters had been the topic of gossip many times,
as well as the sons and daughters of a number of other residents of
Granger. Agatha had listened avidly to much of that gossip and conjecture.

   "All of them?" she asked, wondering if that was going too far.

   "I was in love with him," said Mirriam, biting the bullet.  If the woman
was a spy, she'd have only old news to confirm.  It was too long ago.  It
didn't matter anymore.  "He couldn't put down roots, but I loved him
anyway." She wrung her own rag out, thinking back on the man she was
discussing.  "Couldn't resist him, really.  He just made my heart do flip
flops."

   Agatha wondered what that feeling might be like.  The only flip flops
her heart had done was on her wedding night.  Harry had nailed them down in
her stomach.  The pain had, anyway.  The passion in Mirriam's voice as she
remembered this man ...  this man who wouldn't marry her ...  was still
fresh and deep.  It was obvious that Mirriam still remembered her love for
him.  Agatha wondered what that was like too.

   "It wasn't like that with Harry and me." It was out of her mouth before
she realized it.

   "I'm so sorry," said Mirriam.  It was an automatic response.  But it was
also an opening ...  the kind of opening many women welcome, when they want
to talk about something.

   "I don't know what happened," sighed Agatha.

   "You were young," said Mirriam.

   "I just did what I thought I was supposed to do," said Agatha.

   "Is that why you never remarried?" Mirriam blushed.  "I'm sorry.  I
shouldn't have asked that."

   "I can't remarry," said Agatha automatically.

   "Why in the world not?"

   "My friends would never ..." She didn't finish.  She blinked.  She
looked at Mirriam, who was looking at her with sad eyes.  "I guess I just
thought I couldn't do that," she finished.

   "Well, the stable of men available in this town is mighty puny," said
Mirriam.  "I can tell you that."

   That almost shocked Agatha.  This woman had a four year old little boy!

   "You wanted to get married again?" she asked.

   "Oh, I thought about it," said Mirriam.  "I seem to be cursed to fall in
love with men I can't have." That was the way she thought about it.  No one
knew who Theodore's father was and she planned on keeping it that way. 
"I've made some pretty silly choices along the way, it seems." She felt
like she was trivializing her own family.  "Not that I'm sorry, mind you,"
she said, in their defense.  "I love all my children.  I loved them all the
time.  It was hard, sometimes, but I've always been proud of them."

   Again Agatha was stunned.  She'd expected this woman to be ashamed of
what she'd done all those years.  And yet, she sounded almost proud.  It
occurred to Agatha then that she had cause to be proud.  She'd done it
alone, and her children, Agatha had to admit, were pleasant ...  no, more
than pleasant.  They were NICE people.  That jarred her sensibilities,
somehow, but she knew it was true.  Bobby had been nice to her.  The girls,
in the short time she'd known them, had seemed completely normal other than
the fact they had no husbands.  She thought of Harry.  She wouldn't wish
that on any woman, with child or not.  She immediately felt ashamed that
she'd thought that.

   "You want to help me get lunch ready?" asked Mirriam.

   Agatha did.

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

   That afternoon was more of the same, as the two women sank into what
could only be called a cleaning frenzy.  Mirriam was embarrassed by the
condition of her house, once she saw what kinds of things Agatha did. 
She'd never worried about it before, but somehow she felt like she had to
prove something to this woman she'd ignored for years.  It wasn't exactly a
competition, but both women worked hard.  Mirriam tried to keep up with
Agatha, who was trying to do enough work to feel like she was paying her
own way.

   Both ended up exhausted, when it was time to start supper.

   "I have a meatloaf frozen for just this situation," said Mirriam. 
"We'll boil some potatoes to go with it and open a few cans of vegetables."


   Agatha worked on a salad while Mirriam took care of the other things. 
When the workers straggled in, both women turned around.  Prudence had been
painting and had paint all over the sweat suit she was wearing.  When
Agatha looked more closely, she saw that there were actually several colors
of paint on it.  There were paint spatters on her face and hands too. 
Constance was covered with a fine coating of white dust, from her head down
to the tops of her shoes.  She'd been wearing a dust mask and only the
circle around her nose and mouth was flesh colored.

   "I need a shower," moaned Constance.

   "Go take one," said Mirriam, laughing.

   "I didn't bring a change of clothes."

   "You've worn the girls’ clothes before," pointed out her mother's
best friend.

   "Guess I have at that," said Constance.

   "Need any help?" asked Bobby, grinning.

   Constance slapped at him, raising a cloud of dust, which he was covered
with too.

   "Cad!" she accused.  "How dare you toy with my affections!"

   "It wasn't your affections I was thinking of toying with." He grinned
wider as he jumped back.

   Constance ignored him and turned to Mirriam.

   "Keep him here, please.  I'd like to be able to take my shower in a
relaxed fashion."

   It was then that they all, at about the same time, remembered that
Agatha was there.  Almost as if they had rehearsed it, they turned to look
at her together.  Her eyes were wide open, as was her mouth, which was
fixed in an "O."

   "He's such a kidder," gasped Prudence.

   Agatha closed her mouth and blushed under the eyes of all those present.
It had been so calm!  They had acted so relaxed about it all ...  ALL of
them!  It was as if this was the normal way Bobby acted and they all knew
he was kidding.

   Bobby broke the tension by turning and bowing to Constance.

   "My apologies, milady," he said gravely.  "Sometimes I forget myself."
He turned and then bowed to Agatha.  "Madame," he said, just as gravely. 
"I have been unpardonably impertinent.  I shall await my flogging out
back."

   Then he simply walked out the back door.

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

   Everything had started moving again with the thud of the back door
closing.  Prudence stated her intent to find a rag to clean her face and
hands.  Mirriam almost fell all over herself to help her do that. 
Constance simply left the room.  Agatha was left to stand and wonder about
what she'd just seen.  Mirriam and Prudence went into the utility room. 
She could hear them gasping in hushed tones.  It was obvious they were
embarrassed.

   But the tone everything had happened in had sounded like friends
bantering.  Admittedly, she had never heard banter like that ...  somewhat
shocking banter, she thought.  But it had clearly been in fun.  Even his
comment about waiting for her to come out and flog him for his impertinence
was unquestionably in fun.  SHE had been included in the fun!

   On impulse she went to the back door and looked out.  He was bent over,
shirtless, at a water spigot that stuck up out of the ground and was
washing himself clean.  Again, on impulse, she looked around.  There was a
fly swatter hanging on a nail by the back door.

   She pulled it down, opened the door and marched toward Bobby.

   He looked up, obviously surprised when he saw who it was.  Then he saw
the fly swatter in her hand.

   "You're not actually going to flog me," he objected.

   "You WERE impertinent," she said as she stopped.  She looked at his
glistening chest.  It looked nothing like Harry's.  "Bend over," she
ordered, still letting impulse guide her actions.  To her astonishment, he
did, presenting his backside to her.  She whacked him once with the fly
swatter and then her courage deserted her and she ran toward the back door.
She felt the giddy laughter welling up in her as she ran, not knowing if he
was chasing her or not.  She was even more astonished when she realized
that something inside her wanted him to chase her.

   That was washed out of her body as she saw Prudence and Mirriam,
standing in the open doorway together, their mouths sagging.  She stopped,
almost skidding on the dirt, staring up at the two women.

   Prudence coughed ...  then giggled.

   In seconds, all three women were cackling, bent over because they were
laughing so hard.

   Bobby just looked at them, shook his head, and went back to cleaning up.

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

   It was as if a great weight had been lifted from Agatha's shoulders. 
The feeling of acceptance was palpable ...  unquestionable.  Only Constance
and the twins, when they got there, didn't understand why Prudence and
Mirriam had accepted Agatha into their circle of friends.  That it had
happened was obvious ...  they'd seen this kind of thing happen before. 
The girls just didn't know why.

   That didn't seem to matter, though.  Constance sat next to Bobby and,
during supper, leaned over to put her shoulder against him and lay her head
on his shoulder.

   "I'm tired," she said in explanation.  "You worked me half to death
today."

   "We got a lot done," said Bobby, unrepentant that he was apparently a
harsh taskmaster.  "Those rooms will be ready in another few hours."

   "Well don't expect me to work them," said Constance, sitting back up. 
“You've squeezed as much blood out of me as you're going to get."

   "Just wait until I make the barn into the apartments I have planned," he
said.  "That will take weeks of work!  Heh, heh, heh." He twirled the ends
of an imaginary moustache.

   Because Mirriam was the only one who knew about this plan, that required
him explaining it to the others.  The twins seized on the idea immediately.


   "We could live out there!" they squealed.

   "Me too," said Bobby.

   The twins groaned theatrically.  Only Agatha didn't understand how
hollow those groans sounded.  Prudence, and Constance too, for that matter,
had taken one look at Joseph and knew who his father was.  It had happened
before.  Prudence understood completely how it could happen.  Constance
held her counsel on the matter.

   Prudence and her daughter left right after supper.  The twins went off
to feed their babies.  Theodore, who had been "helping" Prudence paint all
day, was taken by his mother to the laundry room to try to get the paint
off of him without hurting him too much.

   That left Bobby and Agatha alone.  Bobby started to wash the dishes and
Agatha, still in cleaning mode, simply joined him.  They worked quietly,
side by side, both familiar with the tasks needing to be done.

   When they finished, Bobby wiped his hands.

   "Want to finish the puzzle tonight?"

   "I guess so," she answered.

   They had been at it long enough that the twins were finished feeding and
playing with the babies in the living room, while watching TV, when Agatha
spoke.

   "I really do have to confess something to you," she said.

   "What's that?" he asked.

   She looked around.  She didn't know where Mirriam was.

   "Can we go outside?" she asked.  She was amazed that she didn't feel
nervous at all.

   "Is it that serious?" he asked.

   "I think it is," she said.

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

   She confessed her whole plan, standing and hugging herself, by the water
spigot where she had swatted him on the butt and become one of Mirriam's
friends.  She confessed that she'd intended to make herself available for
him to seduce her.  She confessed that she'd planned on having her friends
watch, while he accepted the money.  She confessed that she had planned on
exposing him to the entire community by having him arrested for
prostitution.

   He didn't believe her at first.  When she apologized over and over
again, even crying, he was convinced.

   "Why are you telling me this?" he asked, finally.

   "Because I was so stupid," she said, wiping her eyes.  "You're not like
we thought." She stopped.  "Well, Mirriam is, and your sisters, I guess ...
but it doesn't matter!  You're all good people and I wanted to destroy
you."

   "But you don't anymore?" he asked.

   "Of course not," she moaned.

   "OK, then," he said, his voice firm.  "No harm done."

   She goggled at him.

   "How can you SAY that?"

   "Because there was no harm done," he said simply.  "We've known for as
long as I've been alive that people hated us.  Now one of them doesn't any
more.  I think that's an improvement."

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

   Agatha lay in bed.  She was tense and couldn't relax.  She wondered if
he'd told his mother yet.  She hadn't come and thrown her out.  That would
probably happen in the morning.  Mirriam was too good a woman to throw her
out this late at night, no matter how much she deserved it.

   She'd gone straight to her room when they came in.  She wouldn't have
been able to work on the puzzle or face any of the rest of them anyway. 
She'd tried to read, but couldn't concentrate.  She looked at her watch. 
It was eleven.  She knew it was going to be a long night.

   She was startled at a tap on the door.  It then opened.

   It was Bobby.  He came in and closed the door.

   "You were straight with me," he said.  "Maybe I should be straight with
you."

   Chapter Six



   Bobby didn't intend to be quite as "straight" with Agatha ...  as she'd
been with him.  She'd told him all her secrets, but he only intended to
talk about things she didn't know about him ...  that might affect her.

   Agatha pulled the covers up to her neck, instinctively.

   "May I come in?"

   She couldn't speak.  He was already in!  Her mind was trying to process
what he'd meant.  He took a few steps toward her and her eyes widened.

   "I just want to talk," he said.

   She stared at him.

   "Can I sit down?"

   His eyes went to the edge of the bed she was lying in.  There was no
chair nearby, so his meaning was obvious.  She felt her body tremble and
realized she was terrified.  She visualized something inside her saying
"Get a grip, Agatha!" and tried to relax.

   "What about?" she whispered.

   "Us," he said.  He still hadn't sat.

   Her mind danced all around that small two letter word.  What "us" was he
talking about?

   "Why do you think I asked you to do things with me?" His question was
soft and she had to strain to hear it.  She thought back to that night in
the park, when he'd stopped to talk to her.

   "You said you wanted to get to know me," she said.

   "I understand now why you accepted," he said.  "I thought you wanted to
get to know me too.  I thought both of us were trying to understand the
other side a little better."

   She felt a stab of guilt, because she knew he really HAD been trying to
get to know her ...  while she was plotting against him.

   "I know you feel guilty," he said.  "But I don't want you to."

   She almost sat up, so astonished was she.  He sat, suddenly, on the edge
of the bed.  She tensed, but his hands were in his lap, so she relaxed.

   "Why?" she asked.

   "Because we DID get to know each other a little bit," he said.  "And
that DID affect the way you thought about me ...  us.  And you decided not
to do what you originally planned.  You took the time to look more closely
and it was good for both of us.  It doesn't really matter what you planned
to do, because the end result was positive."

   She tried to wrap her mind around his reasoning.  It sounded so logical,
but there had to be something wrong with it.  If she explained it to Ethyl
that way, Ethyl would laugh and say she'd just been fooled.

   But she knew she hadn't been fooled.  They hadn't put on an elaborate
act, like she had.  They'd all just been themselves and welcomed her,
despite the fact that she thought they were all ...  She didn't like the
words that came to mind, so she stopped thinking about that.

   "You put on an act," he said.

   She tensed again.  How did he read her mind like that?!

   "But I did too," he went on.  "And I owe it to you to tell you that."

   "What do you mean?" she asked.

   "I thought about seducing you," he said.

   She stopped breathing, until her lungs couldn't take it, and she gasped.
He looked away.

   "That isn't really the right word," he said.  "I don't think I've ever
actually seduced anybody." He wasn't thinking of his sisters.  "It's more
like I got to know a woman, and liked her, and she liked me too, and we
just gave in to our normal urges." He looked back at her.  "You probably
think it's wrong to do that." He looked away again.  "I guess what I'm
trying to say is that I might be guilty of some of the things you didn't
like about me when we first met.  I've been resisting the urge to flirt
with you ...  putting on an act ...  just like you did."

   He smiled a funny crooked kind of smile.

   "It's ironic, kind of, when you think about it.  You were pretending to
be interested in me and I was pretending that I wasn't interested in you."

   Agatha's mind was whirling.  There was so much to think about, all at
the same time.  He'd almost ...  not quite, but almost ...  admitted that
he catted around with different women.  That played to her old passions
that involved judgment and condemnation.  But he'd said he wanted to flirt
with HER too!

   That played to passions she didn't even know were inside her.  Still, he
had admitted that he had been concealing his true thoughts and that made
her wary.  What else was he concealing?  Why was he telling her all this?

   "So I wanted to apologize to you too," he said.

   She couldn't figure out what he was apologizing for.  Merely controlling
one's libido wasn't anything to be sorry for.  He hadn't actually lied to
her, like she had to him.  He'd said he was pretending he wasn't interested
in her, which didn't make sense, because he kept taking her places.

   "Wait a minute," she said.  "If you were pretending you weren't
interested ...  why did you keep asking me to do things with you?"

   "I like being around you," he said.

   That astonished her.  "Why?" she asked.

   "You're different than other women I know," he said.  "You're a little
stuffy and we believe different things ...  think about things differently
...  but I think that's what makes you so interesting."

   Part of her mind told her she'd just been insulted, but another part
suggested that he'd merely overlooked what he thought of as flaws, which
was an odd kind of compliment.  He stood up suddenly and she flinched.

   "Anyway," he said.  "I just wanted you to know that both of us weren't
being entirely honest.  I think we really have started over now.  I hope we
can still be friends."

   He was going to leave.  There was so much that was still murky and
unsaid.

   "You said you thought about seducing me," she blurted.

   He stood, his face passive.

   "Yes."

   "Why?" she asked.

   He smiled for some reason.  "You're young.  You're pretty.  You lost
your husband and are probably lonely."

   She was aghast.

   "You'd take advantage of me like that?"

   "It's not taking advantage when you get to know each other and share
something that makes both your lives more pleasant," he said patiently.  "I
know you don't think about it that way, but I do.  If you came to want that
...  needed that ...  and I did too ...  why would we deny ourselves the
pleasure?"

   "Because it's wrong!" she gasped.

   "Is it?" he asked.  "Is it wrong to hold hands before you're married?"

   "You're not talking about holding hands!" she said.

   "Is it wrong?" he insisted.

   "Of course not," she said.  "But ..." He interrupted her.

   "Is it wrong to share a few kisses before you're married?"

   She just looked at him.

   "Come on, Agatha.  We're just having a conversation here.  This is part
of being friends ...  exchanging ideas ...  talking about thorny issues."

   "No," she said, warily.

   "How about hugs?"

   "No."

   "Not even if you press your body against him?"

   Her eyes narrowed.  This wasn't fair, somehow.

   "Where do you draw the line?" he asked.  "What is it you can't do until
you're married?"

   "Have sex!," she said firmly.

   "Isn't kissing and hugging and handholding part of having sex?" he
asked.

   "Of course not," she said.

   "But all those things ...  when you do them ...  they make you want to
have sex.  I mean it's not quite that simple, because you don't want to
have sex with every person you kiss, but the whole point is that if you
want to kiss them, and hold their hands, and hug them, and touch them ...
that kind of relationship usually evolves to the point where you also want
to make love with them.  That can be PART of making love, the way I see
it."

   "You're confusing me," she complained.

   "I'm not confusing you," he said.  "You're confusing yourself.  You
believe things that don't make sense from my point of view.  That doesn't
mean you're wrong and it doesn't mean I'm wrong."

   "Somebody has to be wrong!" she objected.

   "Why?" he asked.  "If I wanted to kiss you, and hug you, and touch you,
and you didn't want that to happen, it would be wrong if I did those
things. But if you DID want them ...  why would it be wrong?"

   "If I did that my friends wouldn't talk to me!" she said.

   "So your friends are the ones who control what you can and cannot do?"
he asked.

   "That's not fair," she said weakly.

   "You already said Ethyl won't ever talk to you again, because she saw
you with me.  All we were doing was standing there talking.  I don't have
any friends who would stop talking to me just because I took you to get a
new furnace."

   "I know she's not really a friend," admitted Agatha.  "I thought she
was, but I know better now."

   "Then why do you care about her rules anymore?" he asked.  "Why would
you let what she thinks run your life?  I'm not suggesting that means you
should let me seduce you or anything." He grinned and went on.  "It's kind
of late for that anyway.  I don't think you can seduce someone who knows
that's what you're trying to do ...  but that's not the point.  You ARE
young, and pretty, and interesting.  You have a lot of life left to live
and there's no reason in the world you can't have some fun and
companionship while you live it.  You could meet another man, fall in love
again, have children.  But you can only do all that if you LET yourself do
it, and stop worrying about Ethyl and everybody else."

   This time, when he turned to go, she didn't stop him.  She had too much
to think about already.

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

   Everyone acted completely normal at breakfast.  It was obvious to Agatha
that he hadn't told Mirriam about her confession.  That was good, because
she'd had that rough night she was worried she'd have to find somewhere
else to stay.

   After he left, she thought about everything he'd said.  The last things
he'd said were uppermost in her mind.  She tried to imagine herself with a
man, doing those things Bobby had suggested she could do ...  falling in
love ...  having children ...  spending time with this man doing fun
things. The only men she knew were husbands of her friends and she couldn't
imagine herself with any of them.  She hadn't paid attention to any other
men.  She knew she'd seen them, but she'd ignored them.

   The only man she could think of ...  who came to mind when she tried to
imagine that future life ...  was Bobby Dalton.  She had had a picnic with
him, gone bowling, spent time talking.  He'd said she was pretty.

   But she knew Bobby Dalton would never be the man who filled her life
with happiness and children.  It was inconceivable.  Or was it?  She
remembered him standing there, without a shirt on, by the spigot.  She
closed her eyes and saw the flyswatter smack his rear end ...  the same
rear end she had stared at in her furnace room.  She felt butterflies in
her stomach as she thought of what he might have tried to do, had she not
confessed to him.

   He might have tried to kiss her.  He might have wanted to hold her hand.
He might have wanted to hug her and press his body to hers.  He might have
wanted to ...

   She couldn't visualize that.  All she could visualize was Harry, with
his paunch and his pale body, crawling on top of her.

   It had been a rough night.

   She was almost inordinately glad that she didn't have to face a grim
hostess at breakfast.  She knew she would have broken down in tears and
fled.

   And Bobby didn't act any differently toward her either.  She was amazed
at that.  He didn't ignore her.  He smiled at her when she first came into
the kitchen.  But he didn't fawn over her either.  His plan of seduction
had been abandoned.  She felt a little relieved about that too.  She had
spent entirely too much time, last night, wondering what his hand might
feel like in hers ...  or his lips pressed against her lips.

   "I'll check on your furnace when I go to town," he said, breaking her
train of thought.  "Unless you're planning on going to town yourself."

   It occurred to Agatha that she had no plans ...  of any kind.  She felt
a little empty because of that.

   "That would be nice," she said.

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

   She tried to read.  Then she gave that up and tried to work on the
puzzle.  That didn't work either, so she offered to help Mirriam, but
Mirriam didn't have anything for her to do.

   She went for a walk, bundling up with a borrowed muffler.  She found her
feet following the path Bobby's car had taken, until she looked up and saw
the tree house.  She turned and went back the way she'd come.

   She left the woods just as Bobby's car pulled up in the yard and
stopped. He saw her when he got out and waited.

   "They're almost done," he said.  "You should be able to go back home
tomorrow."

   Agatha felt herself relax, as she realized she'd get to spend another
night with these people who made her feel so welcome.

   They ate lunch and Bobby said he was going to finish the last two rooms
that afternoon.  After she helped Mirriam do the dishes, she wandered
upstairs to see the rooms.  She watched as he painted the trim and
installed covers around the light switches and outlets.  His movements were
so smooth and practiced.  He had her help him, as he installed new light
fixtures on the ceiling, asking her to hand him tools, screws, or whatever
else he needed while he was up on the ladder.

   When they were done, he asked her what she thought and she dutifully
pronounced the rooms "nice."

   "Want to see what I'm going to do in the barn?" he asked, carrying the
ladder out of the room.

   She followed him to the barn, where he put the ladder away, and then
watched as he paced out shapes on the dirt floor, telling her where walls
and doorways would be, and what each space would contain.

   "It looks like a lot of work," she said.

   "It will be," he admitted.  "I'm not sure I can pull it off."

   "You can," she said automatically.

   "Thanks for your confidence in me," he said, grinning.

   "Did you really think about seducing me?" she asked.

   Her mouth stayed open.  She hadn't meant to say that at all!

   His face went so calm that she was afraid he was going to say that was a
lie too.

   "When I thought that might be what you wanted," he said.

   "Oh," she said.

   "It's kind of hard to turn off," he said.  "I hope you'll forgive me if
I still have the errant naughty thought about you."

   The butterflies burst from their cocoons in her stomach.

   "You still want to?" she asked weakly.

   "Like I said, it's kind of hard to just turn off." He smiled.  "But you
don't have to worry about it.  I'll get over it."

   She stared at him.  Her mind roiled with conflicting emotions.  Bobby
saw in her face some of the same things he'd seen before ...  that he'd
interpreted as interest.  But she'd been acting before.  He didn't think
she was acting now.  He thought of his sisters ...  curious ...  interested
...  but holding back.  He went to stand in front of her.

   "I think I know what you're thinking about," he said softly.  "I might
be wrong, but right now I bet you feel nervous and tense, and all jittery
inside."

   "Yes," she whispered.

   "It's normal," he said.  "It just means you're curious.  We both know
I'm not the right man to be curious with, though ...  don't you think?"

   "I don't know what to think," she whispered.

   "What you're feeling just means that you're alive," he said.  "It proves
I was right ...  you can have excitement in your life ...  and a man. 
You'll meet that man, if you let yourself start looking around and
exploring the possibilities."

   "I don't know any men," she said.

   "You can meet them."

   "Where?  I don't have any friends anymore, and even if I did, they
wouldn't help me."

   "Go find a job," he suggested.  "Do some volunteer work.  Expand your
horizons and meet people."

   "Do you want to kiss me?" she asked, her voice sounding like she was
only twelve or thirteen.

   He looked at her for what seemed like an hour, but was really only
fifteen seconds.

   "Yes, but we already talked about this," he said.

   "I don't know why I asked that," she moaned.

   "Because you're curious," he said.

   "Oh."

   They stood, staring at each other for another fifteen seconds.

   "Do you want me to kiss you?" he asked.

   "I shouldn't," she sighed.

   "You're probably right about that," he agreed.

   "Then why do I feel this way?" she whined.

   "Maybe it's just because now you're thinking about having a future ...
with a man."

   "Not you," she said.  She blushed instantly.  "I'm sorry."

   "I understand completely," he said.  "That's why I'm not sure kissing
you would be the right thing."

   "Why not?"

   "We already talked about that too," he reminded her.

   The butterflies in her stomach went wild.  He was thinking about making
love to her.  Kissing her was PART of making love to her.  Quite suddenly,
she saw that as true.  Kissing WAS part of moving toward that.

   Bobby saw the look in her eyes clearly.  Whether she knew it or not, she
was horny.  He'd seen that look in a number of feminine eyes.

   "If I kiss you right now ...  it won't help," he said softly.

   "Why not?" she asked.

   "Because we'll both want more," he said.

   "No we won't," she said, knowing she was lying.  She already wanted more
and that just blew her mind, because she had never wanted more before.

   "Let's go for a walk," he said.  "If you still feel like it in ten
minutes ..." He didn't finish.

   She didn't like that idea, because she was quite sure that she'd change
her mind once she started thinking clearly.  She didn't want to change her
mind.  Right now she wasn't particularly fond of the idea of thinking
clearly, even.  But he was moving away from her, so she followed.

   Whether he thought about it or not, she didn't know, but they ended up
retracing her earlier steps.  It took them about ten minutes to get to the
tree house.  She fought with herself the entire way, telling herself this
urge to kiss him was crazy ...  insane ...  stupid.  But when they stopped,
she knew she still wanted to try it.  He was right.  She was curious. 
She'd tried to remember kisses from her past.  There had been a few in high
school, but she couldn't remember them at all.  She vividly remembered
kissing a neighbor boy when she was six or seven.  It had been her first
kiss, but she knew it was nothing like a real kiss.  She remembered kissing
Harry too, most of which were quick pecks, a short pressing of lips
together that had seemed more like a ritual than anything that conveyed
feeling.  Even in bed, he hadn't kissed her in any other way.  He'd been
happy in bed.  His grunts and groans had made that clear.  But it hadn't
involved a lot of kissing.

   He was standing there, watching her.  She looked at him.

   "I think you're right.  I'm just curious," she said.  "And it's just a
kiss.  If I do what you suggested ...  if I meet a man ...  I'll kiss him
...  won't I?" This was a strange, new Agatha speaking, she thought.

   "I imagine so," he said, smiling.

   "Then call it practice," she said.

   Bobby's eyebrows arched.  It was almost eerie how she used the same
words that some of his sisters had used ...  "It's just practice."

   Chapter Seven



   Agatha opened her eyes.  It was good that his arms were around her,
because she was quite sure she couldn't stand up right now if they weren't.
She was having trouble getting enough air into her lungs, but she didn't
think it was because he was holding her so tightly.

   She realized she hadn't been prepared for what had happened ... 
couldn't have been prepared.  It was too new ...  too unfamiliar.  When his
lips had pressed to hers, they'd felt warm and fluid.  Hers had been stiff,
but when he'd crushed her body to his, all the strength had gone out of all
her muscles, including those in her lips.  When her lips had relaxed, the
sensations had been astonishing.

   Within seconds, she felt like she was floating and sunshine was making
her whole body warm.  His head had twisted slightly, twisting her lips
until they came open and his slipped to rub against her teeth.  It had felt
like it had gone on for years, until he’d finally pulled his face
away from hers.

   As she’d opened her eyes, his were right in front of her face. 
She summoned strength from somewhere and put it in her legs, to stiffen
them.  Some of that strength flowed up to her arms and into her hands, and
they moved from his waist to his back.  His lips were still right in front
of hers.

   She closed her eyes and moved her head forward.

   The second kiss made her feel like she was about to break apart and fly
into little shards, like glass exploding from a dropped bottle.  Most of
that was because his tongue entered her mouth.  She'd never been French
kissed before.  It was too delicious to stop.  What she'd thought of before
as disgusting and salacious was one of the most wonderful things she'd ever
felt.

   Within fifteen seconds, her own tongue began to explore.

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

   "I see what you mean," she said softly.

   They were walking back, hand in hand.  His fingers were warm.

   "I tried to warn you," he said.

   "You did," she agreed.  She felt like she'd just grown up and was
finally an adult after all these years.

   "You can have that with a man you meet," he said.

   "I didn't have it with Harry," she said firmly.  "Not like that." She
stopped and he stopped too, after another step almost took their hands
apart.

   "I hardly know you," she said.

   "True."

   "I can't believe what I'm feeling right now ...  and I hardly know you."


   "I tried to warn you," he repeated.

   "I think that's why I wanted to do it," she said.  "I knew you weren't
trying to seduce me anymore."

   "Well, that's changed," he said, smiling.

   Her eyes widened, but then she realized that's what she'd felt in his
kiss.  It was so obvious.  She felt wonder that she'd never been kissed
like that before.  What she didn't feel was fear.  The thought flitted
through her mind that if a kiss could be so different than what she'd
experienced before ...  what else might be different.

   "I'm not afraid of you," she said.  It sounded stubborn to her own ears.


   "It's not me you need to be afraid of," he said, still smiling.  "It's
your own feelings."

   "That's nonsense," she said.  She actually felt better than she had
before ...  stronger, now that he wasn't holding her so tightly and his
lips weren't on hers.

   "Well," he said.  "I'll try to behave.  Do you still want to spend time
getting to know me?"

   She started walking again.  She didn't take his hand.  They had walked
ten or fifteen feet before she spoke.

   "Yes."

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

   The atmosphere at supper was different than it had been the night
before, when more people had been there.  It was more quiet and calm.  The
twins ate as long as they could before both babies seemed to want to be fed
at the same time, then left to go do that.

   Agatha announced that she'd be able to go back home the next day. 
Mirriam said she imagined Agatha would be happy to get back.  Bobby just
ate.

   After supper, the twins were in the living room, watching TV and holding
their babies.  Mirriam joined them.  Agatha sat down at the puzzle table
and found she could concentrate again, even when Bobby sat down next to
her.

   "You OK?" he asked, his voice obviously toned low so the others wouldn't
hear.

   "Of course," she said.  "It was only a kiss."

   "Your knees just give out on you occasionally," he said, smiling.

   "All right, it was a few kisses.  Harry never kissed me that way.  I was
surprised, that's all."

   "You learn quickly," he said, his voice teasing.

   "Your seduction won't work, you know," she said, putting a piece of the
puzzle in.

   "It won't?"

   "No.  I'm on guard now.  I know how dangerous you are now."

   "All that from just a few kisses?" He was teasing her again.  She
realized it felt good to be teased like that.

   "I always knew you were dangerous," she said, teasing him back.  "Now I
know why."

   "I see," he said.  "So my nefarious plan isn't going to work.  That's a
shame.  I had such high hopes for you."

   Agatha decided she liked this teasing a lot.

   But the teasing stopped, as did their whispered conversation, as both of
them began to pay attention to the puzzle.  The only thing left was the
sky, when Mirriam stopped and looked at it.

   "I'm off to bed," she said.  "Do you need anything before I go?"

   Agatha looked up.  "I'm fine.  Thank you."

   "Do you want me to get you up early?" asked Mirriam.  "Do you have
things to do?"

   "I never have anything to do," said Agatha automatically.  It struck her
that that was true.  She thought about Bobby's suggestion that she get
involved in volunteer work.  It might be good for much more than meeting a
man.

   "Well then, you'll have time to come visit occasionally," said Mirriam.

   Agatha felt her throat tighten and tears started to blur her vision. 
She looked back down, embarrassed that she could be so affected by simple
kindness.

   "I will," she said.

   "Good night, then," said her new friend.

   Five minutes went by while they worked on separating the blue pieces by
shade.

   "Your mother isn't like I always thought she was either," said Agatha
softly.

   "She's a good woman," said Bobby.  "She should have looked for a man
again too."

   "She did," said Agatha, thinking of Theodore.

   "She did?" Bobby sounded puzzled.

   "Theodore," said Agatha.  She felt her face get hot.

   "Oh," said Bobby.  "He didn't turn out to be the kind of man she could
settle down with."

   "You know the father?" asked Agatha, her old tendency to gossip gripping
her.

   "She just said he wasn't the kind of man she could marry," said Bobby,
hoping that would be enough.

   "Oh."

   "I imagine it was kind of like you and me," he said.  She looked up at
him.  "I mean, as much as I'd like to seduce you and all," he grinned, "I
suspect that we could never be a real couple."

   "Not in this town," she said, her voice almost hard.

   "Hmmm," he said.  "Sounds like you're at least thinking about it," he
teased.

   She reached with one hand to push him and he rocked to one side.  She
felt a warmth flood her chest.  She'd never bantered with a man before ...
never had a man who was a friend.

   "You don't act like you want to seduce me," she said.  "You act more
like someone who cares what happens to me."

   "I do care what happens to you," he said.  "Can't I have a nefarious
plan on top of that?  I have a reputation to live up to, you know."

   She darted a look at him.  "Your reputation is firmly established," she
said, "at least with the women I know.  They would do you harm if they
could ...  just like I was going to."

   "But I won you over with my charm," he said, grinning.

   She didn't smile back.  "Listen to me, Bobby.  Those people will seize
on the slightest thing to try to hurt you.  They'd try to hurt your mother
too."

   "They've been trying to do that for years," he said carelessly.  "I've
still made new friends and life has gone on.  You don't need to worry about
me.  What you need to worry about is getting your life going again."

   "We'll see," she said.  "That's easy to say, but in this town it may not
be easy to do."

   “There are hundreds of towns," he said.  "You could take classes
over in Hutch at the community college there.  They have placement
programs, I hear, to help you find a job when you're trained.  Sell your
house and move away.  Make a new start."

   "I couldn't do that," she said firmly.  "I've always lived in Granger.
My mother lives here." She froze and then gasped.  "My mother!  I didn't
tell her about the furnace!  She doesn't know where I am.  What if Ethyl
talked to her since I came here?"

   "Does Ethyl know you're here?" he asked.

   "No.  I don’t' think anybody knows I stayed here."

   "Then where you've been is nobody's business but yours," he said.  "Your
furnace went out and you had to go somewhere while it was being fixed.  If
anybody asks you where you went, just don't answer."

   "My mother would never accept that," she said.

   "You're a grown woman, Aggie," he said.

   She stared at him.  "Nobody has ever called me Aggie," she said.

   "Sorry," he apologized.

   "No, I don't mind," she said.  "It's just that so much is new since I
met you."

   "Well, from where I sit, you're all grown up now and you don't owe
anybody any information you don't want to give them.  They can't live your
life for you ...  remember?  If you want to get a job, it's nobody's
business but yours.  If you want to sell your house and move away, the same
thing applies.  If they yell at you, tell them to mind their own business."


   "You're lecturing me," she said.

   "See?" He grinned.  "You just pushed back.  How hard was that?"

   Agatha felt silly for feeling proud of herself, but he made her feel
that way.  She felt the warmth in her chest again and realized it had
something to do with the man sitting beside her.

   "If I moved away I wouldn't know anybody at all," she said.

   "True," he agreed.  "You can make new friends."

   "And what about all these men you say I could meet?  I don't know
anything about men.  How would I know if one of them was trying to seduce
me?  I didn't realize YOU were trying to seduce me."

   "That was just because my nefarious plan is to wiggle my way into your
confidence, so you don't suspect anything.  Then, when you're not expecting
it, I can strike."

   "Exactly," she said, thinking he was teasing her again.  "And I missed
that completely.  How will I know if another villainous man, such as
yourself, tries to overcome my defenses?"

   "You'll know," he said grinning.  "After the kissing, he tries to make
the other things happen."

   "Like what?" she asked.

   He'd been putting a piece of the puzzle in and stopped to look at her.

   "Surely you know," he said.

   "I'm not so sure about that," she said.  "I didn't do that much dating
when I got out of school.  When Harry proposed, my mother said I should
accept.  I did.  You're very different than Harry."

   "Men are men," said Bobby.  "I'm not that different."

   "I think you are," she said.  "See?  I'm a babe in the woods, a poor
sheep who doesn't know what a wolf looks like."

   "You want me to tell you what I'd do to try to seduce you?" he asked. 
He sounded like he thought she was joking, but wasn't sure.

   "Yes," she said.  "Tell me."

   "And ruin all my chances of succeeding?" He smiled.

   "Yes," she said.  "If you're the man I think you are ...  now ... 
you'll do that.  You'll try to help me be prepared."

   "I'm sure it was the same things that Harry did," he said.

   "I'm not," she said.  "I told you he never kissed me like that."

   Bobby had known she would be different than any other woman he knew, but
this ...  this was really different.  He couldn't conceive of a woman who
had been married ...  not knowing ...  what men would try to do.  He was
sure she was just curious to find out if her life with Harry had been as
normal as he was sure it had been.

   "Well," he said.  "I'd want to kiss you a lot, for a long time."

   "How long?" she asked.

   Bobby frowned.  Was she just playing with him?

   "Maybe as much as an hour," he answered.

   She looked distinctly surprised, but then her face went back to normal.
"What else?" she asked.

   Maybe it wasn't surprise, he thought.  Maybe she thought he was being
too mundane.

   "I'd touch you," he said.

   "Where?" she asked.

   Bobby thought hard.  She was playing some kind of game.  She had to be.
He thought of Amanda, who had needed a game to let herself do things with
him.  Some of the others had done something similar.

   "I'd start by touching you on the arms, and face, and hands," he said,
looking at her closely.

   "Why there?" she asked.  She seemed to be asking a real question.

   "To get you used to me touching you," he said.

   "Oh."

   "If I keep going, you're going to think I'm talking dirty to you," he
said.

   She blinked.  She didn't look like she was playing some kind of game.

   "I'll tell you when to stop," she said.

   "Really?"

   "Yes."

   He sat back, watching her more closely now.  He wasn't sure what was
going on anymore.

   "While I was kissing you, I'd touch your breasts," he said.

   She sucked in air and her face got pink.  He gave her a few seconds to
object, but she didn't.

   "Outside of your clothing, of course," he added.  "But if you didn't
object, I'd caress them and squeeze them.  Maybe that would be all, that
time.  But I'd get you used to letting me do that.”

   Her eyes were wide.  She licked her lips.

   "Eventually I'd try to get you into a situation where I could get my
hand inside your clothing," he went on.  "I'd try to get you so excited
that you'd let me get inside your bra."

   Her eyes blinked.  She was still flushed, but she didn't break her gaze.


   "Shall I go on?" he asked.

   She nodded, an infinitesimally small nod, but a definite one.

   "If you let me do that, I'd start kissing your neck and throat ... 
nibbling on your ear and working my lips toward your upper chest." He
peered at her.  She didn't nod or give any indication that she knew what he
was talking about.  "Of course, the idea is to get your breasts bare, so I
can use my mouth on them."

   She gasped then and her eyes wavered, as if they wanted to look away. 
But they firmed.

   "Agatha," he said, his voice full of warning.  "I don't think this is
turning out to be what you thought it would be."

   "Go on," her voice was the barest of whispers.

   He gave her a few seconds.  His own chest felt tight.  "Most women have
very sensitive nipples," he said.  "If you suck on them, some women can
have an orgasm just from that."

   She swallowed and closed her eyes finally.  But they popped right back
open.  As impossible as it was, she seemed to be hearing this kind of thing
for the first time.

   "Once I can get to her breasts, it's really just a matter of time before
I can put my hand lower ...  between her legs."

   That actually calmed Agatha.  Up to this point, he'd been describing
things she could only imagine.  Harry had never done any of those things.
But he HAD put his hand between her legs.  He'd rubbed her there, usually
quite vigorously for a minute or so, before he climbed on top of her. 
Based on how Bobby had described the other things, though, she felt the
niggling suspicion that he might do things differently.

   "Describe that," she said, her voice a little stronger.

   Bobby had been thinking she was playing with him, but something in her
voice told him this was much more serious than he had thought.  She seemed
to be doing OK.  In fact, he was impressed that the scared, flighty woman
he'd first met had the grit to listen to this at all.

   "There's a place," he said.  "It's high up, between the ...  lips." He
looked for a nod, but didn't get one.  "Do you know what I'm talking
about?"

   Agatha had never explored her sex.  That was dirty.  Her mother had made
that quite clear and had made dire predictions about what would happen if
her daughter ever played with herself down there.  When Harry had rubbed
her the first few times, she'd been embarrassed almost to death.  But he
was her husband, so she’d let him.  It had felt good and that had
embarrassed her too, but it never lasted long.

   She shook her head twice.

   "It feels like a little button," he said.  "It's very sensitive. 
Rubbing it the right way almost always gives a woman an orgasm."

   Her eyes were open wide now.  It was obvious this was new information,
as impossible as he thought that had to be.

   "When I rub that, a woman gets very slippery," he said.  "That lets me
slide a finger into her.  Women like that a lot."

   He'd said something so obvious that her eyes HAD to clear, as she
thought he was teasing her.  But she didn't.

   "I might do that three or four times before I try to make love to her,"
said Bobby.  "But most men wouldn't wait.  If they can get that far,
they'll try to have intercourse with you right then."

   Her eyes cleared suddenly.

   "Why do you wait?" she asked.

   "I want her to want me in her," he said.  "I want her to want it so much
that nothing else matters.  When she wants it like that, I know it's the
right thing to do ...  that she needs it ...  and won't be sorry
afterwards."

   "Oh my," she said weakly.

   "There's lots more, of course," said Bobby.

   "More?" her voice was high.

   "There are lots of ways to make love," he said.  "Different positions,
for example.  Or maybe taking a bath together and doing it in the bathtub.

   Her eyes were clear and sharp now.

   "You're not teasing me, are you?" she asked.

   "No," he said.

   "There's so much I didn't know," she sighed.

   "Really?" He couldn't believe it.  "You were married!"

   "It was never like that.  Not with Harry.  He did ...  rub ...  between
my legs ...  but then he just got on top of me and it hurt and then it was
over."

   "I'm so sorry, Aggie," said Bobby.  He SOUNDED sorry and her eyes jerked
to his.

   "Why are YOU sorry?" she asked.  "You had nothing to do with it!"

   "Every wife deserves to be treated better than that," he said.

   "I can't believe it," she said.  "I thought we were so normal.  I
thought it was like that for everyone."

   "Maybe it is," said Bobby.  "Maybe I'm strange or something." The fact
was that he had never compared notes with other men on their techniques. 
He just assumed other men knew what to do too.

   "You're not strange," said Agatha.  She blinked.  "Maybe you are.  I
don't know."

   "I thought you'd start screaming at me any second, while I was saying
all that," said Bobby.

   A part of her previous life popped into her head and she realized,
fully, just what he'd said.  She was astonished that she hadn't screamed at
him too.  On the other hand, he'd done exactly what she wanted him to do.
She swallowed.

   "Wow," she sighed.  "This new life of mine is very tumultuous."

   "Life should be exciting," said Bobby.

   She looked at him.  "Well, you've certainly stirred mine up."

   Chapter Eight



   They finished the puzzle.  There wasn't much talking.  Both were
thinking about what had just happened.  His thoughts were still
disbelieving that so much of what he'd described seemed to be unknown to
her.  Hers were about how much she'd apparently missed, though it was
difficult for her to imagine whether she would have liked all that or not.

   When the last piece went in, they sat back.  It wasn't exactly tense,
but it wasn't as relaxed as it had been earlier either.

   "I should go to bed," she said.

   "Me too," he agreed.  "I have to say something."

   She just waited.

   "When you asked me to tell you all that ...  I thought you were playing
a game of some kind.  I thought you'd know exactly what I was talking
about."

   "It wasn't that way with Harry," she said softly.

   "No one ever did those things with you?" he asked.

   She realized how personal that question was, but, considering what
they'd done in the last day, she couldn't take offense.

   "Not really," she said.  "Harry kissed me ...  but not like you do.  He
put his hand...  down there ...  but not like you described.  He never
touched my ...  breasts." She went silent.

   "You said it hurt."

   She nodded.

   "Every time?"

   "Almost every time," she said.

   "That's so sad," he said.  "It could have been so much better for you.
It will be with the next man.  I can almost promise you that."

   "Why?" she asked.  "How?"

   "He didn't take time to get you ready," said Bobby.  "Most men will and
if they don't, you can slow them down ...  tell them what to do."

   She flushed deep red.  "I could never TELL a man to do those things!"

   "Of course you can," said Bobby.  "It's YOUR body.  If he cares about
you, he'll do anything you ask him to.  And if he won't, then stop
everything and throw him out."

   "I can't throw my husband out!" she said.

   "I'm not talking about after you get married again," said Bobby.  "I'm
talking about before."

   She blinked.  "But that's ...  that's premarital sex!" she objected.

   "If you'd known how Harry would treat you, would you have married him?"
asked Bobby.

   She had to think about that.  Her impulse was to say she would have. 
But now, after the fact ...  after hearing Bobby's description of how
things COULD be ...

   "I don't know," she said tiredly.  "Things are so different now."

   "OK, I understand that you believe premarital sex is wrong.  I can live
with that," he said.  "But you should at least find out if you WANT a man
to keep going.  If he doesn't make you want more, maybe he's not the right
man.  "

   "You make it all sound so simple," she said.

   "I think it is.  Things either click and feel right or they don't."

   She stood up.  Then she stopped.  All those things he'd described ... 
he'd been describing them as if he were going to do them ...  to her.

   "Were all those things what you would have done with me?" she asked.

   "If it seemed right, yes," he said.  "I wouldn't have known until I'd
tried some of them."

   "Like the kiss," she said.  "The kisses," she corrected herself.

   "Did they feel right?" he asked.

   Her eyes darted to his.  "You know they did."

   He nodded and grinned.

   "If we hadn't talked about ...  all this.  What would you have tried to
do tonight?" she asked.

   His eyes narrowed.  It sounded like the game he thought she'd been
playing.  But he knew now there was no game.

   "I would have tried to kiss you goodnight." She'd handled everything
else amazingly well, so he went on.  "I would have come to your room, like
I did last night.  I would have sat on the edge of the bed, then tried to
kiss you goodnight."

   "In bed?" She felt weak.

   "Yes," he said.

   She walked past him, going to the bottom of the stairs.  She felt
strength come back into her knees as she climbed.  Half way up she stopped
and looked back at him.  He was still standing by the puzzle.

   "Give me time to change into my nightgown and get under the covers," she
said.

   Then she went the rest of the way up.

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

   Bobby stopped at her door.  He really had no idea what to do.  With
women in the past, he'd gotten clear signals, usually.  That wasn't the
case with Agatha.

   He didn't knock this time.  He was already invited ...  whatever that
meant.  She was lying just as she had been the night before.  The only
difference was that this time she didn't pull the covers up to her chin. 
They were folded across her body, just below her breasts.  Her hands lay
folded on top of the edge of the covers.  He wasn't sure what that meant
either.  She turned her head to look at him.  She didn't look frightened
tonight.

   "What do you want?" he asked, stepping toward the bed.

   "I don’t know," she said.  Her voice was calm, but soft.

   He didn't know whether to stand or sit.  He was pretty sure she’d
accept a goodnight kiss.  He was less sure whether she had left her breasts
out from under the covers for him to play with.  He knew she was ... 
receptive ...  but not for how much.  He had, after all, covered the whole
gamut of actions.

   "I warned you about the kisses," he reminded her.

   "I know," she said.

   He decided to sit down on the edge of the bed.  He sat facing the door
and only turned his head to look at her.

   "Can you describe to me how you feel right now?" he asked.

   "I feel like I'm in some kind of dream," she said, after a pause.  "Or
maybe like I'm in a foreign country, where I don't know how to act, because
I don't know what the customs are."

   "It's always scary to start off in a new direction," suggested Bobby.

   "I'm not scared, exactly," she said.  "Not like I was.  I used to be
terrified of you.  But that's gone, I think.  Maybe it's like when you know
you're going to taste a new food and you're worried about whether you'll
like it or not."

   "That's an interesting way to think about things," said Bobby.

   "And on top of it all, you've always been told that you shouldn't eat
that food in the first place.  Like tomatoes."

   "Tomatoes?" he asked, not understanding.

   "My grandmother used to tell me about the very first time she ever ate a
tomato.  Her mother swore they were poisonous.  They come from the
nightshade family, you know.  And my great grandmother wouldn't touch them
because she'd always been told they were poisonous.  Then one day, when she
was visiting a friend, she saw someone eating a tomato.  She laughed about
it, because she said she screamed and ran to try to stop the person.  That
was when she found out her mother could be wrong about something.  She said
that, until then, she'd believed everything her mother had ever said.  Just
accepted it as truth."

   "I never knew that about tomatoes," said Bobby.  "People really thought
they were poisonous?"

   "Uh huh."

   "I assume she ate one," said Bobby.

   "Yes and her mother had a fit.  Then, when nothing happened, her mother
still wouldn't touch a tomato.  They argued about it for years.  It makes
me think of Ethyl.  If she knew I kissed you today, she'd be absolutely
convinced I'd burn in the fires of hell for all eternity.  But I don't feel
like I did anything wrong at all.  Isn't that strange?"

   "I don't think a simple kiss is all that bad," said Bobby.

   "But you think about a lot more than kissing," she said.

   "You don't have to worry about that," he said.  "All that stuff ... 
downstairs ...  I thought you were just curious."

   "I AM curious," she said.  "Like my mother was curious about that
tomato."

   He chuckled.  "I've never been compared to a tomato before."

   "Can I ask you a question?"

   "Sure," he said.

   "Those women you were talking about ...  the ones you've ...  done those
things with..." She stopped.

   "That's not a question," he said gently.

   "I know.  I'm just nervous."

   "OK," he said.

   "None of them have ever complained."

   "That's not a question either," he said.

   "Would you stop that!  I'm trying to ask you a question."

   "OK." He grinned at her.

   "Have there been a lot?" she asked.

   "Why do you want to know?" he asked, instead of answering her.

   "There are rumors," she said.  "And if the rumors are true ...  why
haven't any of those women complained?" She was thinking about the
unmarried women who'd had babies.  If this man had dallied with them ... 
and a baby had resulted ...  why hadn't they complained?

   "I guess they weren't unhappy," said Bobby.

   She mulled that over.  It wasn't really an explanation ...  but the
common sense of it was obvious.  You only complained when you were unhappy
about something.  How could you possibly be happy if a man got you with
child ...  and didn't at least marry you?

   "This is all so hard to understand," she complained.

   "What's to understand?" he asked.  "You don't need to worry about other
women.  You need to worry about yourself.  It's hard enough to make your
own way in life, without worrying about everybody else."

   He stood up.

   "Get some sleep," he said.  "You'll figure things out eventually."

   "Aren't you going to kiss me goodnight?" she asked.  Her fingers
twitched on the covers below her breasts.

   "Is that what you want?"

   "I can't just tell you I want you to kiss me goodnight," she said.

   "Why not?" he asked.

   "Because I'm not supposed to want you to kiss me goodnight," she said,
as if that were the most logical thing in the world.  "You said you wanted
to kiss me goodnight."

   "I said I wanted to do a lot of things to you," he said softly.  "But we
were just talking hypothetically."

   "You said yourself that you can't seduce me any longer," she said.  "Now
that I know about your nefarious plan."

   "You think you're safe just because you know what's coming next?" He
smiled.  "Why do you think I wanted you to know what to expect?  Men are
all the same, Aggie.  We all have a nefarious plan.  And when you meet that
man we were talking about, and it's the right man, you won't care about his
nefarious plan anymore.  As a matter of fact, you'll become an accomplice
to helping him make his plan work."

   "We're only talking about a simple goodnight kiss," she said.

   "I warned you about that last time," he said.

   "I know."

   It was the first time, since he'd come into the room, that he had a
strong feeling of at least one thing she wanted.  She wanted to be kissed
again.  But she obviously still didn't understand the power of passion.

   He went to her, without saying anything else, and leaned over to put his
hands beside her head.  She was staring up at him and she licked her lips,
in preparation for the kiss she was sure she was going to get.  He lowered
his lips to hers.  He got another signal of acceptance when she lifted her
head a little, to meet him.  He kissed her hungrily and then moved his left
hand to cup and squeeze her right breast.

   She stiffened and, just as he found her nipple through the cloth of her
nightgown and squeezed it gently, her hand came to grip his.  He rested
enough of his weight on his left hand that she couldn't just move it.  He
slid his tongue into her mouth and rolled the hard little knob of her
nipple between his thumb and forefinger, very gently.  He kept his lips
pressed to hers, until her hand stopped gripping his hand and simply held
it.  Then he pulled his lips back and let his palm cover the nipple, just
lying on top of her breast.

   "You cheated," she moaned.  "You skipped ahead!"

   "Did I tell you there are rules?" he asked.  "This isn't some game you
can play.  The men you meet will not play by any rules.”

   To punctuate the point, he kissed her again.  He did it in exactly the
same way and brought his fingers back to her nipple.  When her hand began
to hold him to her breast instead of trying to move him away, he pulled
back, said goodnight and left.

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

   Agatha felt like she should be unable to sleep.  But the fact was, she
felt warm and safe and snug.  She had been shocked when his hand had gone
to her breast.  The feel of his fingers on her nipple had been so new,
though, and so completely different than anything she'd ever felt before
... and so good ...  that she'd given in.  She didn't remember giving in
... making the decision to give in.  It had just happened.

   And his kisses had been so warm and soft.  She licked her lips in the
dark.  She knew she would let him kiss her for hours, if he tried ... 
wanted to.  And her brain told her she would probably let him do other
things too, even though they were wrong.

   This wasn't at all like she had thought it would be.  She had steeled
herself to receive his lustful looks and only as much physical contact as
was absolutely required to snare him.  She had known his touch would be
disgusting, but had been willing to sacrifice her own wellbeing for the
greater cause.

   Now, as she lay in bed, she knew what a fool she had been.  How could
she go out into the wide world and succeed?  She felt like a baby, with its
eyes closed, thinking it knew what the world was all about because it could
hear things.  His kisses had been pure joy, an explosion of sweet
sensation. And his touch on her breast, instead of making her livid,
created something inside her that craved more of that touch.

   She thought back to the shocking descriptions he'd given ...  things
he'd thought about doing with HER!  Her mind had told her, even while he
was giving those descriptions, that she should be disgusted.  But she
hadn't been.  She'd felt the fear, but his calm delivery ...  his openness
about it all ...  had soothed her somehow.

   And now that she'd felt part of it, even though he'd skipped way ahead,
she was anything but disgusted.

   In fact…she wanted more.

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

   Agatha's departure created in her a range of emotions that astonished
her.  She was glad to be going home.  At the same time she felt like she
was losing something precious by leaving the B&B behind.  Something had
happened there that was rejuvenating.  She had been accepted.  She had been
accepted as who she was and not required to think a certain way or act just
so.  It was the first time in her adult life that that had happened.

   There had been other firsts on the farm.  She’d kissed a man she
had no intention of letting court her, for the first time.  That same man
had touched her in an intimate way that she had never experienced before. A
man had talked with her about serious issues, which she'd never been
involved in before.

   There had been tears that made her feel foolish and a hug exchanged with
a woman she had hated when she first arrived.  She viewed the twins
completely differently than she had before her furnace had given out.  Her
attitude about Prudence Harris had altered significantly.  As she drove
away, she felt like a new woman.

   Back home, though, it began to seem like a dream again.  Everything
there was exactly the same as it had always been.  As the feelings of
euphoria began to seep out of her, she tried to keep them by cleaning like
she had cleaned at Mirriam's.  That didn't work.  It was while she was
moving vases filled with artificial flowers, to dust under them, that she
got the idea.

   Four hours later she was exhausted.  She had moved everything, almost
literally.  She had rearranged the living room first, tugging and shoving
until the furniture was in different places.  From there she went to the
dining room.  She couldn't change much there, but took everything out of
the china cabinet and put it back in different places.  From there she went
to her bedroom and, in a burst of energy, moved everything she could lift
or shove out into the hallway.  The guest room became her new bedroom. 
Both rooms shared the bathroom between them, so it didn't matter.  She
couldn't move the bed itself or the chest of drawers, but that would come
later.

   She sat down in a chair and relaxed, looking at everything that was
different.  She was sitting there when the doorbell rang.  She opened the
door and felt a surge of heat in her chest when she saw Bobby standing
there.

   "Sorry to just walk up to your door like this," he said.  "But I wanted
to check on you."

   She pulled him in, excited to show him what she'd done.  He stayed to
help her move the heavy things and they completed the switch.  He had tools
and she watched in awe as he disassembled her bed and moved it, to make it
reappear in her new room.  Everything from the guest room went into her old
room.

   Finally they were done.  He was smiling for some reason.

   "What?" she asked.

   "I know you want to be a new woman and all that," he said.  "But isn't
this a bit much?"

   "Don't laugh at me," she pouted.  "I'm trying."

   "I know," he said.  "You deserve a reward."

   "What kind of reward?" she asked.

   "We've never gone dancing.  Do you dance?"

   "I used to, when I was a girl," she said.

   "I'll pick you up at seven," he said.

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

   He took her to a bar in Hutchinson.  She'd never been in a bar and felt
real misgivings about going into one.  She expected loud, crude people,
most of whom would be drunk.  Other than a little sip of cooking sherry
(which she'd spat out in disgust) she'd never had anything harder than some
apple cider that had sat out too long one time.

   Once ensconced in a booth with Bobby, she looked around curiously. 
People were laughing and smiling.  There were beer bottles everywhere, as
well as glasses of various shapes with different colored liquids in them.
Bobby ordered a beer when the waitress came over and then looked at Agatha.


   "I don't know anything about all this," she said helplessly.

   He ordered her something that sounded like sour whiskey, which didn't
sound appetizing at all.  When it arrived, she scrutinized it.  It was a
brownish fluid with a bright red cherry in it, among the ice cubes, and a
tiny little straw that stuck out.

   "If you don't like it I'll drink it," said Bobby.

   She took a tentative sip and was delighted.  That made her want to taste
his beer.  She made a face as the stuff got into her mouth, but swallowed
the little sip she'd taken.

   "I like this better," she said, going back to the drink he'd ordered for
her.

   There was all kinds of music, because the "band" was a big old Wurlitzer
juke box against one wall.  She was fascinated with it, because of all the
pastel lights that made it just lovely to look at and the way the little
arm selected a record, plopped it onto the turntable, and then music came
blaring out.

   Their first dance was a slow one.  She felt awkward and was sure that
everyone in the place was staring at her.  Bobby held her close and she put
her face into his shoulder.  Little peeks out away from them convinced her
that no one seemed to know or care who they were, so she relaxed.

   They sat and she rested, sipping more of her drink.  A thumping beat got
her fingers tapping on the table.  It was almost too loud to talk.  Bobby
stood and offered her his hand.  Again she felt conspicuous.  She
remembered steps that would go with this music and did them, even though
they were different than what other people were doing.  Bobby watched her,
though, and he tried to do the same thing, which was comical, because he
looked completely out of place.  He grinned, though, and it made her feel
good.

   Two more slow dances later, he kissed her while they danced.

   Her mind told her this was part of his nefarious plan, but she kissed
him back.

   An hour after they got there, she was kissing him in the booth.

   On the way home, he stopped in the dark and kissed her some more.  When
his hand strayed to her breast, she didn't stop him.  If anything, her
kisses grew more urgent.

   When he walked her to the porch, she turned.

   "You want to come in?"

   "Not a good idea," he said softly.

   "Why not?"

   "I'm really turned on right now," he said.

   "Oh!" she squeaked.

   She'd had three of those delicious drinks she now knew were called
whiskey sours instead of sour whiskey.  She didn't feel any different than
usual, as far as she was concerned.  She wasn't aware that her inhibitions
had been lowered just a tad.

   "So, do you want to come in?" she asked again.

   To Agatha, it was a chance to get some more of those delicious kisses
and feel the tingles she now felt as his fingers drifted across her
breasts.

   To Bobby, it was an invitation for much more.

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

   There are degrees of astonishment.  The word itself is defined in one
dictionary as: overpowering wonder or surprise; amazement.  Entries you
might find in a thesaurus are: awe, bewilderment, confusion, consternation,
dumbfoundment, shock, stupefaction, and wonder.  Such words are examples of
the degrees of astonishment.

   Agatha Roberts experienced all of those and more, before she had time to
think about it all, much, much later.

   She started out happy, as they sat on the couch and kissed for what
seemed like hours.  His fingers flitted over her breasts, something that
just felt natural now.  Her breasts liked that touch.

   There was a bit of consternation when, somehow, the buttons on the front
of her dress came undone.  She was wearing a half slip that night and his
fingers on the skin below her bra felt like they were producing little
static electric shocks.

   When his lips moved over her cheek to one earlobe and then down to her
throat, a hazy list with words that seemed to be written in letters made of
smoke appeared in her mind.  It was the list of things in his nefarious
plan.  The inner eyes of her brain seemed to see a check mark appear by
some of those lines in his plan.

   There was dumbfoundment, when she realized she wasn't objecting as his
fingers slid under the thick material of her bra.  His fingers felt hot as
they cupped naked.  Amazement followed, as his fingers touched her nipple
with nothing between them and her body arched of its own volition.

   He stopped kissing her and stared into her eyes as his fingers played
under her bra, which suddenly felt confining.  Her confoundment only
increased, as her own fingers pulled the bra up above her breasts.  She
told herself it was only because it was so uncomfortable the other way.

   Then he was kissing her again.

   Confusion flooded her as she felt herself lifted into his arms as if she
weighed nothing.  That gave way to shock as he carried her to her new
bedroom, where her old bed was, and stood her on her feet by that bed.

   She was stupefied as he removed her clothing...not by his actions that
list in her head got another check mark - but by the fact that she stood so
docile and compliant as he did so.

   He said nothing.  She said nothing, even as she watched him become as
naked as she was.  She was still standing and he came to pull her against
him and kiss her yet again.  Amazement flooded her mind, almost wiping out
that ghostly list, as she felt the heat of her own body against the heat of
his.  Thoughts of Harry flitted into her head.  His paunch would have
prevented her body from being molded so perfectly to him, like she was to
Bobby.

   Then there was almost constant surprise, amazement and wonder, mixed
with consternation as more checkmarks appeared beside the parts of his
nefarious plan.  She knew what to expect.  She knew she should object.  But
the capability to resist was missing completely.  She felt like putty being
molded into a new woman.

   There was a thing he did that had no line on the list.  She was
initially horrified as his face pushed between her legs and she even heard
a horrified groan, as if from some long dead spirit - one of her ancestors
who objected to what he was doing.  Then she realized that groan had come
from her own throat only to be replaced by a sound of delight.

   Her body did strange and unexpected things.  Her hips, for instance -
they had muscles in them that jerked and thrust, without her telling them
to.  They came to life as she felt his tongue push into her.  Her knees
flopped open as if they had springs in them.  She must’ve had
unbelievable strength in her neck muscles, because she was able to lift her
head and watch what he did, without feeling tired at all.

   Her glazed eyes watched his lips begin to travel up from there ... 
could see the smears of wet his lips left on her skin.  When they reached
her breasts, she felt like she might melt as those lips closed around her
nipples and sucked.

   She lost her voice that night.  It happened when she realized her loins
were full to overflowing with something hot, hard, and long that moved in
her sometimes and just filled her other times, without causing anything
remotely like pain.  The list was gone, blown away like the smoke it had
appeared to be.  In its place there was a balloon.  It was a bright pink
balloon, and she knew it was her sanity, getting larger and larger as
something in her expanded, until she was sure it would burst into tiny
pieces of rubber that would fly all over.

   That was when she’d started screaming.  Her voice was raspy within
a minute.  Every outpouring of breath had the urgent need to deflate that
balloon before it burst, because she knew she'd go stark raving mad if it
did.

   She was wrong.

   It did burst, but it turned out that the balloon had something warm and
wet in it that flooded her whole body and made her want the feeling to go
on and on.  Somehow, her body absorbed that wonderful hot fluid and she
gasped for breath, panting as if she'd run miles in fear of her life.

   The world spun and she found herself on top of him, sitting up, still
full of that wonderful hard, hot thing that she now loved.  His hands
taught her what to do and his lips pulled exquisite strings of joy through
her nipples.  She could almost see it flowing into him like colored ribbons
of light, as if she were feeding him her joy.

   The balloon swelled and burst three more times as, with energy that
seemed to come from all around her soaking into her body, she moved her
hips and massaged her insides with that long, thick thing.

   Her world spun again and she was under him once more.  She croaked now,
when she tried to make noises.  Her throat was raw.  She saw the drop of
sweat that fell from his chin and felt it hit her upper chest.  The bed was
moving as if there was an earthquake going on.

   He growled and went stiff, deep inside her.  She recognized it as his
completion.  She automatically compared it to Harry's completion, which she
remembered as being composed of three things : he had been heavy as he
slumped on her; she had felt a dab or warmth inside her; it had been hard
to breathe.

   It was with overpowering awe that she experienced another kind of
completion.  There was an explosion of heat in her belly.  It came in
repeated, almost measured jets as the thing inside her pulsed.  He didn't
collapse on top of her.  She had no trouble breathing.  But the most
awesome part of it all was that, for the first time in her life, she felt
like a complete woman.

   His eyes had been closed while he was rigid and still.  His belly sagged
as he relaxed and his eyes opened to see hers staring up at him.  Her hair
was disheveled.

   "I think we got a little carried away," he said.

   Her legs, which had been spread wide, lifted to drop onto the back of
his thighs.  She reached for his face.

   When he lay down on her, to give her the kiss she was demanding, she
found it still wasn't hard to breathe.

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

   When she woke, it was to a feeling of complete relaxation and
contentment.  It was warm in the bed and she felt wonderful.

   Her eyes popped open wide as she remembered.  She lifted her head.  She
was alone.  She rolled to look at the floor where she remembered his
clothes had dropped.  There was nothing there.

   She rolled back to relax again and took inventory of her body.  She felt
no different than she ever had, really; just marvelously relaxed.  He'd
gone, obviously.  She wasn't sure what that meant.  She wondered if she'd
ever see him again, now that his plan had come to fruition.

   She felt awe again.  Everything had happened so fast!  There was no way
on Earth she could have been prepared for that ...  no way she could have
stopped it.  She remembered he had warned her, and smiled.

   Then she turned onto her side and drifted back to sleep.

   Chapter Nine



   Bobby got home late.  Nobody was up, so he went straight to bed.  He was
upset with himself.  He hadn't meant for things to go that far with Agatha.
It had been too much too fast.  He knew she had loved it while it was
happening, but that didn't mean she would love it after the fact.  He had
given her the ammunition she had originally been after.  She could honestly
say she'd been seduced ...  that he'd had his way with her.

   There wasn't anything he could do about it now.  Her lack of experience
had driven him to show her what it could be like ...  to teach her once and
for all that there was something for a woman like her to look forward to.
He'd just taken it much too fast.

   It couldn't be helped now.  It didn't stop him from sleeping either.

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

   He was awakened by the twins, who crawled into bed with him naked.  They
were not gentle in waking him up.

   "Wake up!" said Matilda.  There was a hand playing with his penis.

   "What?" he groused.  He was still sleepy.

   "It's October the first!" said Betty, into his ear.  She licked it after
she talked into it and his hand came up to brush her face away like it was
a fly.

   "So?"

   "It's October the FIRST!" said Matilda, too loudly.

   He tried to clear his mind.  Obviously they weren't going away.

   "OK, it's October the first," he said, opening his eyes.  "Happy
October."

   "It's been six weeks!" said Betty, her voice disgusted.

   "And we've been on the pill for a month," cooed Matilda.

   He got it then.  They didn't have to work that day.

   He didn't make it out of bed until noon.

   The twins had built up a lot of reserve passion.  On that first day they
could engage in amorous activities again after giving birth, they let Bobby
take a nap in the afternoon.  Then they dragged him to their room that
night, where he slept ...  occasionally ...  between them.

   They were pragmatic women.  Both produced more milk than their babies
could consume and they'd been using Bobby as a means to empty them
sometimes.  Now, whenever one of them had to get up to feed a baby in the
middle of the night, she returned to bed to empty herself of one white
milky liquid, only to have it replaced, albeit in another part of her body,
with another.

   It was, in fact, their passion and hunger to be filled that drove Bobby
out of the house the next morning.  He wasn't sure he could take another
day with the twins.

   He made the rounds of his children, since there wasn't much work to do
just then, and stopped by the ready-mix lot to talk to Brad Wildress about
pouring a floor in the barn.  It was a bit more expensive than he'd thought
it would be, but it was necessary if they were going to move forward with
the barn project.  While Brad used the clunky old calculator to do the
figures, Bobby wondered what he might be getting himself into by moving
into the barn with the twins.  They'd been so horny the previous day that
they'd chanced getting caught by their mother.  Once they were all living
in the barn, that wouldn't be an issue any more.

   It was late when he decided he had to bite the bullet, possibly, and
stop by Agatha's house.  He was well aware that a woman's reactions during
good sex didn't necessarily translate into happiness later, when emotions
cooled.  But he couldn't just stay away.  If she was all right with what
had happened, he needed to be there for her.  The same was true if she
wasn't.

   There was movement at the curtains after he rang the bell, though the
porch light didn't come on.  The door opened and she stood there in her
robe.

   "Are you all right?" he asked.

   As answer, she just stood back and opened the door wider.

   She didn't attack him when he stepped inside and the door was closed ...
in either sense.

   "I just wanted to check on you," he said.

   "That's what you said last night," she said softly.  "Is that why you're
here again?" She was looking down.

   "Not like last night," he said.  "I really just want to see if you're
OK." He was having a tough time judging her mood.

   "Oh," she said.

   "I didn't mean for that much to happen."

   "Yes you did." Her voice was more firm.  "You even told me that's what
you'd do."

   "I didn't plan that," he insisted.  "When you asked me what it might be
like, I just told you what I was thinking.  I didn't actually think it
would ever happen."

   "It did," she said, still not looking at his face.

   "Are you OK?" he asked again.

   "Yes."

   "Why won't you look at me?" he asked.

   She looked up, blushing.  He saw it in her face immediately.  Somehow
she'd known her emotions would show ...  that he'd be able to see the
desire there.

   "Oh," he sighed.  "You really ARE OK." There was relief in his voice.

   "Only in the sense that I'm not at all sorry any of that happened," she
said, licking her lips.  "You know you ruined me."

   "I did?"

   "Now that I know what it can be like ...  I'll never be able to go
without that in my life, Bobby."

   "You can have that," he said.

   "With you," she said, "but you won't always be there.  If I move away
I'm going to have to find a man.  Before it was just a dream.  Now it's a
necessity.  And if I stay here, someone will see you coming here, sooner or
later.  I wanted to call you all day long, Bobby!"

   "I'm sorry," he said.

   "No you're not," she said, her voice husky.  "I wasn't the only one who
loved it last night.  I would have had to be blind and deaf to think that.
I never knew anything could be like that."

   "I don't know whether to be glad for you or not," he said.

   "How long can you stay?" she asked.  Her fingers went to the tie of her
robe.

   "How long do you need me?" he countered.

   "I have no idea," she said.  "You'll have to wake me up and ask me if
you can leave."

   He grinned.  She might be slow to start, but once she was running she
purred like a kitten.

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

   While she flushed bright red, Bobby taught her to masturbate.  She
didn't question anything he did now.  Then he taught her how to let a man
masturbate her.  He gave her a massage and brought her off that way.  He
didn't mount her until she was relaxed from five or six orgasms, had over a
space of two hours.

   "I want to go slowly tonight," he said.

   "I've had more orgasms in the last two hours than I had in the last five
years before last night," she sighed.  "And you call that going slow?"

   "I don't know this for a fact, but I suspect most men will want to be
inside you within thirty minutes," he said.  “You have to know how to
get them to go slowly too.  You may have to be very assertive to get them
to do what you want.”

   "I would have let you make love to me the minute you came in the door,"
she sighed, as he sucked at her nipples.

   "That's fine," he said.  "But going slow is fun too."

   He showed her how, by bringing her close with his lips and fingers, but
denying her the orgasm her hips arched to get.  Then he teased her with the
tip of his prick, first rubbing her sex with it and then penetrating her
only a little, until she was writhing under him.

   "This is torture!" she moaned, reaching for his hips with her fingers.

   "You want this?" he asked, sliding all the way in, in one smooth, slow
lunge.

   "Ohhhhh yesss," she hissed, her eyes going half closed.

   "Do you remember me doing that last night?" he asked.

   "Nooooo," she whispered.

   "That's because we were both too excited," he said, beginning to breathe
more deeply.

   "I feel it now," she said, panting herself.

   "Now this," he said, going deep and rotating his loins.

   "Ohhhhh," she moaned.  "That's sooooo gooood."

   He let her have an orgasm and told her to tell him all about it.  She
didn't scream this time.  Her eyes got wider and wider as she told him it
was almost there, then grunted in time with the muscles of her pussy as it
squeezed him repeatedly.

   "Ohhh that was good," she panted when it was over.  "I can't believe I
missed years and years of this."

   "When was your last period?" he panted.

   "I don't know," she moaned.  "I can't think right now."

   "I came in you last night," he panted.  "I shouldn't have done that. 
You could get pregnant.  I'll take it out tonight, when I cum."

   "I can't GET pregnant," she panted, thrusting her pussy up at him as she
said "GET."

   What Agatha Roberts was thinking about just then - as well as she could
think as another orgasm rushed towards her - was that she and Harry had
done this ...  no ...  not this.  What they HAD done for five years was
some pitiful attempt at thinking about doing this, maybe.  Once a week,
sometimes twice, he had climbed on top of her and deposited his seed in
her. In all that time she'd never gotten pregnant and he had told her it
was her fault.  So had her mother.  And she had believed them.

   "Ohhhh Aggie, I'm so sorry," he moaned, thrusting faster.

   "Don't stop!" she whined, unable to think about anything but what was
beginning to wash through her loins.  The sweet streaks of pure bliss began
to spread and then burst, sending jagged, brilliant lightning bolts of
ecstasy throughout her body.

   She did scream this time and her voice broke as vocal chords that hadn't
recovered yet complained.

   She only felt better as his wet heat exploded in her belly.

   They rested in each other's arms, trading kisses, and then started all
over again.

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

   October, 1976 was a month that Agatha would always remember.  She would
remember it because it was the month she began exploring possibilities that
she'd never thought of before.

   She had three brothers, all older.  They had as little use for her
parents as she did and all had moved far enough away that no one could
expect them to visit frequently.  The closest, Archie, lived in Ohio, where
he had his own pest control business.  He was also the brother she was
closest to emotionally, since there was only a year and a half difference
in their ages.

   It was only natural that she call him and confide that she was thinking
of moving away from Granger.  As they talked, and she expressed doubts
about what kind of work she could do, he said he needed a bookkeeper and
could teach her what she would need to know to do the job.

   "You can live with us for a while," he said, "until you find a place of
your own."

   Just that easily she had an option to leave.

   Another reason she would remember October of that year was because Bobby
Dalton came to see her as often as she wanted him to.  She wouldn't fully
understand it until years later, but she knew that, when he still took her
bowling, or on a hike, or to an art show and when sometimes, after that,
they made love, and sometimes they didn't, how much he had cared for her.
She wanted sex all the time ...  had become addicted to it, like someone
who never tasted ice cream until they were grown.  But Bobby didn't make
their relationship solely about sex.  He spent time with her and talked to
her.

   She put her house up for sale.  The realtor said the market was slow and
she'd have to be patient.  She couldn't be patient.  Her new life beckoned.
She was torn, because that would mean leaving the man who made her feel so
fantastic.  But he had convinced her there were other men who would care
about her as much as he did.

   And her brother insisted that she could stay with him and his wife, for
as long as it took to sell the house and find another in Camden.

   It was the middle of November when the final preparations were made. 
The logistics of this real estate business were complicated.  She had no
place to put her belongings, until she had a new house.  She couldn't get a
new house until the old one sold.  The moving company could store her
things, but that needed to be as short a time span as possible, because it
got expensive once it went past the two months they'd store it for free,
which was included in the move.

   It was Mirriam and Prudence who solved the problem by being willing to
be her agents when the house sold.  She had a power of attorney prepared,
giving them the authority to deal with the moving company.  She'd have to
come back to Granger to sign the sale papers, whenever that happened, but
they could take care of the rest.

   Her brother wanted her in Ohio for Thanksgiving.  She picked the
twentieth of November, a Saturday, to leave.  That was because Bobby had
the night of the nineteenth free and could spend one last night with her.

   She would remember that night for years to come too, even though she
would meet a man named Jim only six months after getting to Ohio.  He would
show an interest in her she could not ignore and she would feel something
for him she had felt for no other man.  Even so, she would remember Bobby
Dalton and what they did that last night.

   She had resisted Bobby's efforts to introduce her to oral sex ... 
performed on him, of course ...  for most of October.  While she was
completely comfortable with his mouth on her pussy and she delighted in
fisting his prick until it spurted and got her hand all messy, she couldn't
help but shudder at the thought of putting her mouth on that prick.

   A night of dancing and four whiskey sours had overcome her reluctance
and, just as it had been with everything else Bobby had exposed her to, she
fell in love with sucking cock.

   She sucked his cock one last time, that night, on the nineteenth of
November, but instead of tasting his spunk, she settled her pussy around
his prick as it spurted.  In all, he spurted in her pussy five times that
night.

   But the biggest reason she would always remember that night was because
of something else she learned.  She learned that it wasn't her fault that
she and Harry had produced no children.  That's because Bobby Dalton's
sperm had no problem at all making a baby in her, once her egg was within
reach of those sperm.

   Of course she wouldn't know that until much later, while she was living
with her baby brother and his wonderful wife, Michelle.

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

   Another woman would remember the waning days of November and all of
December that year.  Erica Bradford had seen hundreds, perhaps thousands of
pregnant women in her life.  She had noticed they were pregnant, in the way
some people notice a woman has fiery red hair.  It didn't mean anything in
particular to her ...  she just noticed it.

   All that had changed now that she was eight months pregnant herself. 
She spent an inordinate amount of time standing naked in front of the
mirror.  Short to begin with, she had always felt top heavy because of her
huge breasts.  She had hated them until her involvement with Bobby taught
her to love what they made her feel.  Now, as she stared into the mirror,
she decided her involvement with Bobby had made her look like a flesh
colored ball.  She felt like she was as wide as she was tall, when she
stood sideways.

   She watched as an elbow, or maybe a heel, made a raised strip of skin
appear and disappear across her belly.  Her baby was a very active thing,
moving a lot.  She'd noticed that there was more movement when music was
playing in the room she was in.  It didn't matter what kind of music. 
She'd taken to playing music at home, in her bedroom, where she could lie
back naked on the bed and do what she thought of as playing with her
daughter.

   Both Will and Bobby were enamored with her bulging belly.  She thought
that was funny.  Both men spent hours rubbing their hands over it and
talking to the little human inside.  She thought it was interesting that
both men spoke in almost identical ways to the unborn child.

   With Will it was usually something like: "Hi, pumpkin.  I'm your Uncle
Will.  I bet you're beautiful.  I love you."

   When Bobby spoke it was "Hi, gorgeous.  I'm your daddy and I'm already
proud of you.  I can't wait to hold you."

   She would never have thought her brother and her lover were similar to
each other, but she saw those similarities more and more as time passed.

   Another of them was that both men were also in love with, and talked to,
her breasts.  Will called them "girls," while Bobby addressed them as
"ladies." Will couldn't suck them properly, but his right hand was a master
at squeezing them just hard enough to reduce Erica to jelly.  Bobby spent
more time sucking and nipping her nipples than squeezing them and the
orgasms he gave her were sharper and hotter.  Sometimes she felt like Bobby
was trying to eat them.

   Those nipples, already thick and long, had broadened even more as her
pregnancy progressed.  They had also gone from pink to a dusky
almost-purple.  They were as big around as her thumb, now, and she was
almost afraid they wouldn't fit in her daughter’s mouth when the time
came.  Her areolas had gotten much larger as well and were now about three
and a half inches across.

   She heard the front door open.  That she was stark naked didn't bother
her.  She knew who it was.  She waited, running her hands over her belly.

   Bobby stuck his head in the door.

   "There you are," he said, smiling.

   "I hate you," she said, her voice low.

   "No you don't," he said.

   "Look what you did to me."

   "I thought you women's libber types believed that looks shouldn't
matter," he said.

   "I look like a beach ball," she said.

   "You've never been more beautiful."

   "I have to pee every thirty minutes," she complained.  "My ankles look
like tree stumps.  My back hurts all the time."

   "Only saplings." He grinned.

   She tried to glare at him, but felt the hunger instead.

   "Why are you here?" she grumbled.

   "I'm here because you wanted me to come make you feel better," he said.
He started unbuttoning his shirt.

   She threw back the covers on the bed and arranged herself on her back.
The baby didn't like that very much sometimes, but didn't seem to complain
this time.  It felt good to be lying down, because the ache in her back
eased.  She brought her fingers to her nipples and began squeezing them
lightly and repeatedly while he got naked.

   He started, predictably, by stroking her belly and saying hello to his
daughter.

   "I'm going to make love to your mommy now," he said.  "You be a good
girl and maybe she'll share some of those good feelings with you."

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

   "Ohhhh I just love that," Erica moaned as he slurped at her pussy lips
and sucked at her clit.  She'd already had one orgasm, bringing it on as
quickly as possible after he started eating her pussy.  She could
manufacture an orgasm at will by manipulating her nipples.

   He crawled over her, letting his belly rub against hers, and sucked her
nipples until she groaned through another one.  He let the tip of his prick
enter her pussy lips, but not far.  It was uncomfortable now and he only
really teased her with a couple of inches, rather than truly fucking her.

   "You ready?" he asked.

   "I'm always ready," she panted.

   He got off the bed and stood by her shoulder, stroking his prick.  She
licked her lips while she watched, anticipating what would happen.

   She rolled, with some difficulty, so that his tightly gripped prick
could deliver oozing globs of sperm to each nipple, as he groaned at
preventing a full ejaculation.  Then, while she used her fingers to stroke
her now slippery nipples, masturbating them like tiny penises, she turned
her head and opened her mouth for him to unleash the rest of his cum there.
He knew to slide one of his hands between her legs to stroke her clit while
she came.

   Her orgasm, as she sucked his knob and played with her nipples, made her
arch on the bed, shoving their baby up into the air as if she were trying
to show the whole world her pride and joy.

   Chapter Ten



   By the time he kissed Agatha goodbye, in view of anyone who cared to
look, as she stood by her packed car, Bobby was almost not-sad she was
leaving.  Between Agatha and the twins, to say nothing of Erica Bradford,
it had been a long autumn.

   He spent the rest of November and December working on the apartments in
the barn.  Once the floor was poured, he started on the exterior walls.  It
was a lot like building a house, except that he was able to use plywood on
the outside, rather than weatherproof sheathing.  With few windows to
install, the work went more quickly.  He ran the wiring himself, but had an
electrician check everything.  Plumbing was the biggest job.  He'd stubbed
everything off when the floor was poured, but it just went to a three inch
pipe outside the barn.  He still had to lay the rest of the line to the
waste system that the house dumped into.

   The real problem was that at the end of December, they ran out of money.

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

   They say that when one door closes, another opens.  That happened for
Bobby, in late December, though he didn't know it then.  And then, of
course, there is the problem that some open doors are better left
un-entered.  But that part will come later.

   It was on the twenty-seventh of December that Bobby got a call from
Felicity Chumley, asking for a favor.  The favor was actually for her
friend, Millie Vaughn.  It seemed that Millie's sister, a college aged girl
named Paula, was going to visit for a week or so and needed a date for the
New Year's Eve party that Felicity was throwing.  She said she'd just
naturally thought of Bobby.

   "Can you do that for me?" asked Felicity.

   "You know how helpless I am when it comes to you," he sighed,
theatrically.

   "You can't fool around with this girl," said Felicity.  "Millie was
worried when I suggested you.  She doesn't know exactly what happened
between you and me, but she knows you're not the average male friend of
mine."

   "No problem," said Bobby.  "I'll be a good boy."

   "That's what I'm worried about," said Felicity, her voice a low purr. 
"Sometimes you're too good."

   "Awwww," said Bobby.  "Wasn't two enough for Chester?"

   "That's what I'm talking about, Bobby Dalton!" she yipped into the
phone. "Every time I talk to you I, think about having more children.  I
have my hands full as it is, thank you very much.  The last thing I need is
another baby.  Why do you think I've been avoiding you for the last six
months?"

   "I just thought you were tired of me," said Bobby, trying to sound
sincere.

   "Well you just keep your hands off of me at the party too.  And don't
listen to Chester either."

   "So he DOES want another one?"

   "Will you take care of this girl for me or not?" she asked, her voice
stern.

   "Yes, Ma'am," he said.  "I'll do you proud."

   "You won't do me at all," she growled.  "Regardless of what my husband
wants."

   Bobby laughed.  "OK.  I promise to behave myself around you too."

   Felicity still had a mental image of Bobby in her mind after she hung up
the phone.  She felt the now familiar tingle in her nipples and the hunger
in her belly.  It had been one of the hardest things she ever did to stop
having her sexual liaisons with him.  Even now, after six months without
feeling his weight on her and his delightfully stiff penis inside her, she
still ached to be with him.

   She pushed those thoughts away.  She was too busy with his other
children, and her foundations, and taking care of Chester to give in to her
urges.  Maybe on the anniversary of their meeting she would treat herself
to a night of bliss.  Her nipples tingled more at that thought and she went
in search of her husband.  Maybe a couple of quick orgasms would satisfy
her.

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

   Bobby parked his car and walked to the front door.  The party was
obviously already going, even though he was there right on time.  It wasn't
hard to imagine the people who thought of themselves as movers and shakers,
in Granger, to want to arrive early.

   Felicity knew how to throw a party.  It was eight in the evening, but
the house was already crowded with people talking too loud and drinking too
much.  Most people just threw him a wave as he threaded his way through the
throng, looking for Felicity.  She had said that Millie wanted him to meet
her sister here, instead of picking her up at the Vaughn house.

   He saw her in a gaggle of people, both men and women.  Millie was there
too.  Bobby surveyed the young woman standing beside Millie.  She was
looking around and appeared to be bored.  Everyone around her was smiling,
but she was looking this way and that, as if to find something to be
interested in.  He pegged her as Millie's sister because of the facial
resemblance.  The resemblance stopped there.  Millie was shorter than her
sister and had brown, curly hair, while Paula's was black and straight. 
Millie was more full bodied, while Paula was slim and less curvy.

   Bobby worked his way behind Felicity and reached with both hands to
casually stroke her sides, at her waist.  She turned to face him.

   "I should have known it was you," she said.  She looked at him through
lowered lashes.

   "Just wanted you to know I was here," he said, putting an innocent look
on his face.

   Felicity pulled him around, to face Millie and Paula.

   "Paula, this is Bobby," said Felicity.

   Bobby had been looked at by a lot of women.  Most of them hadn't looked
him over like Paula did though ...  not until much later in their
relationship.  Her eyes dropped and then rose, and a smile came onto her
face."

   "I approve," she said.

   "Paula!" barked her sister.  "You just remember what I told you!"

   "Don't wig out, Millie," said the girl, still looking at Bobby.  "I just
figured any blind date you got for me would be a disaster.  I'm pleasantly
surprised, that's all." Her eyes fastened on Bobby's face.  "For now,
anyway," she added.  She addressed Bobby.  "Can you dance, cowboy?"

   She was making reference to Bobby's attire.  He had chosen a western
shirt and jeans, with boots.  He had checked a jacket at the front door. 
It was cold and windy outside.

   "I'll try not to step on your toes too often," he said.

   "You just be home by one or two," said Millie.  She was staring at Bobby
too.

   Millie was the one who had first told Felicity about Bobby Dalton and
suggested that he might be the answer to a problem Felicity had.  She had
made that suggestion mostly in jest and had later been astonished when she
found out Felicity had hired the man.  Millie and Felicity spent a lot of
time together, and it had been impossible to miss the changes in Felicity's
demeanor, after Bobby Dalton came into her life.  She would never talk
about him, but at the same time, she mentioned him too often.

   And then there had been the babies, of course.

   Felicity wouldn't talk about them either, or more correctly about how
she came to have them, other than to say that Chester was responsible. 
That was the word she had always used ...  responsible.  It didn't take a
rocket scientist, though, to tell that Felicity and Bobby's relationship
was very close ...  maybe too close.  But Millie also knew that Chester had
no objection whatsoever toward having Bobby around ...  so there couldn't
be anything untoward going on.  In one sense, Millie was a little jealous
of her friend.  There were lots of times when Millie wished she could spend
a few hours with a man other than her husband, who wasn't nearly as
attentive to her needs as he used to be.  It wasn't that she wanted to
cheat on him.  She just knew spending some time with an interesting man
like Bobby would be ...  interesting.

   As she watched her little sister be led away by the man, she hoped he
wouldn't be TOO interesting.  Paula seemed to go through men like poop
through a goose.  So far, in the four years she'd been at college, it had
been impossible to keep up with the latest name of the latest boyfriend. 
During their phone calls in the last year, Millie had taken to asking
"Anything interesting on the love front?" instead of asking if Paula was
still going with so and so.  Paula's answer was routinely "Nothing yet."

   "She'll be fine," said Felicity into her ear.  "He promised to be a good
boy."

   Millie's curiosity burst out of her, temporarily out of control.

   "Was he always a good boy with you, Felicity?"

   Felicity's eyes went guarded, like they always did when Millie
questioned her about Bobby Dalton.  "He always acted exactly like I wanted
him to act," she said.

   Millie stared at her friend for a few seconds longer.  Someone bumped
into her and the drink in her hand spilled.  It broke her concentration and
when she looked back at Felicity, she was already talking to someone else.

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

   Paula had taken Bobby's hand and pulled him toward the dining room,
which had a hard wood floor.  All the furniture had been removed, and it
was being used as a dance floor.  There was a disk jockey who had been
hired to provide music.  He was currently playing older rock and roll,
since many at the party were in their thirties and forties.

   They danced, then as soon as the music stopped, Paula grabbed a drink
off of one of the platters being carried through the throng by hired
waiters.  It was champagne, based on the bubbles drifting up from the
bottom.  She tossed it off like it was water and made a face.

   "I don't think you're supposed to drink it that fast," said Bobby.

   "I'm twenty-one!" she said.  "I can drink it as fast as I want to."

   "How long have you been twenty-one?" he asked.

   "Since yesterday," she said.  "That's why I came here for New Year's
Eve. My parents are old fogies.  Twenty-one or not, they wouldn't have let
me have anything to celebrate with, back home."

   "Well, all I'm saying is that you'll probably have more fun if you sip
it instead of chugging it."

   "I was thirsty," she said.  "You're a better dancer than I expected."

   "Careful," he said, smiling.  "You'll give me a big head."

   The girl folded her arms under her breasts.  "Is everything else about
you big too?"

   You might think, what with Bobby's experience and all, that this kind of
comment wouldn't faze him.  You'd be wrong.  He was actually shocked that
she'd be so forward with him, having just met him.

   "They didn't tell me you were so young," he said, ignoring her question.


   "And they didn't tell me my date was going to be a big, bad cowboy." She
dimpled at him.  "Are we going to dance or are you going to turn into my
parents?"

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

   Bobby wasn't at all sure this had been a good idea.  Paula flirted with
him relentlessly.  And, after every second or third dance, she slammed
another glass of champagne, regardless of how often he warned her to sip
instead of chug.  She gyrated wildly to fast songs and rubbed up against
him on the slow ones.

   He knew she was getting drunk.  She was less and less steady on her feet
and took his hand more and more often, leaning on him.  She was all smiles
and giggles, though, and was obviously having a good time.

   In the end, he came up with an idea to get her away from the champagne,
at least for a little while.

   "Let's take a break," he said.  "You're wearing me out and I need some
air."

   "Can't keep up with the youngsters?" she teased, weaving slightly.

   "Let's get something to eat," he said.  "It will be midnight soon and I
skipped supper, thinking there would be food."

   "There IS food," she giggled.  "But I want to DANCE!"



   She let go of him and whirled in a circle.  He had to catch her when she
lost her balance.  In the process his hand cupped one of her breasts.

   "Now that's more like it," she giggled, apparently completely
unconcerned that she was being groped.

   He managed to get her to the buffet and managed to get them two plates.
He yelled at her to follow him and took her to the kitchen, which turned
out to be empty.  The event was being catered and the caterers were working
out of vans parked out back.  There was some traffic through the kitchen,
but not much.  He put her plate on the counter.  She'd grabbed another
glass of champagne while she was following him.  When she saw he was
looking, she sipped delicately.

   "Like that?" She giggled.

   "Yes, like that," he said.

   "I like it better like this," she said and tossed it off, spilling some
of it over the rim of the glass and past her cheeks.  There were streaks of
wet that went down the front of her blouse, clear to the tips of her
beasts. "Damn," she said, looking owlishly down at the spills.

   "Eat something," he said, pushing her plate towards her.

   "I'm not hungry," she said, her voice slurred.  She giggled.

   A mass of voices could be heard through the kitchen door, counting down.
"SIX ...  FIVE ...  FOUR ...  THREE ...  TWO ...  " The roar of "HAPPY NEW
YEAR!" would have been indecipherable, had they not known what was being
said.

   Paula wobbled over to Bobby, her arms going up.  They slid around his
neck and most of her weight went on him.

   "HAPPY NEW YEAR," she slurred.  "KISS ME, COWBOY!"

   Bobby figured there was no other recourse, really, so he kissed the girl
hanging off of him.

   It was during that kiss that she went completely limp.

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

   Bobby had felt women go limp in his arms before ...  a number of times,
in fact.  That part wasn't strange.  What was strange was that, after the
first few seconds, she was so completely limp that he had to hold her up
entirely.  He pulled his face away from hers and her head lolled to one
side.  Her mouth was hanging open in a half smile.

   "Damn, that was a kiss," she sighed.

   "Stand up," he ordered.

   "Don't thiiiiink sooooo," she giggled.  "My legs don't work," she
slurred.

   Now he had a problem.  He picked her up in his arms.  He faced the
kitchen door, but paused.  She started singing some song and giggled some
more.  He couldn't take her out there into the throng of people.  Both
Millie and Felicity would be embarrassed.  He thought about using the side
door to the kitchen, which led upstairs to the servant quarters.  There
would be a bed he could put her on up there, to let her sleep it off.  But
he wasn't sure that was a good idea either.  Who knew if she'd stay there,
or what she'd do if she wandered around.

   He decided the best thing to do was just take her to Millie's, put her
to bed, and let her sleep it off there.

   He felt a little put out with the girl.  He thought of her as a girl,
twenty-one or not.  She was lucky she was with him.  Some other guy might
have taken advantage of her condition.  His anger made him decide to carry
her over his shoulder, rather than in his arms.  He'd have to go out the
back way, and around the house, and all the way to his car with her.  She
was already a pain in the ass.  He didn't want her to be a pain in his
shoulders too.

   He walked right past a caterer who was bringing yet another case of
champagne in through the back door.  The man just grinned at him and went
on about his business.

   He'd had to leave both his coat and hers behind.  He thought about
putting her in his car and going back for them.  He should also tell Millie
what was happening.  Paula seemed to regain consciousness, though.  She
started moaning.  He knew she couldn't be comfortable, slung over his
shoulder like a side of beef, but he didn't feel much compassion for her.
He bent over to put her into the front seat of his car.

   She promptly threw up ...  all over herself, and the car, and parts of
him.

   "Shit!" he growled.  Her head lolled to one side.  Her mouth was
dripping.  It only took him four or five seconds to realize she'd passed
out.

   Her vomit seemed to be mostly fluid.  That made sense.  He hadn't seen
her eat anything.  He was pissed off that she'd drink like that on an empty
stomach.  The smell was awful.  With a sigh he closed the door and went
around to his side.  Better to get her home quickly, so he could clean out
the car.  He could call the mansion from there.

   He knew where the Vaughns lived and drove straight there.  He was going
to get her puke on him any way he did this, so he just carried her over his
shoulder again.

   The windows were dark and the door was locked.  So was the back door.

   "Shit!" he sighed again.  He already reeked.  So did she.  And his car,
of course.

   He started the car again, to keep the heater going.  He could either
take her back to the party, which would result in embarrassment for
everyone ...  or take her to the B&B and put her to bed there. 
Frustration made him choose the B&B.

   It was dark there too.  His mother and the twins had gone to Prudence's
for the evening and he knew they'd probably stay all night, rather than
come home late.  Prudence had room, if the twins slept in one bed.  They
did that often enough, even sleeping three to a bed when they wanted loving
from Bobby.  But the house was open and the washing machine was right
inside the back door, in the utility room.  They didn't have any guests
this weekend, which was good.

   He took her in and dumped her on the floor.  She moaned and mumbled, but
didn't wake up.  He stripped her efficiently, then himself, putting all of
the clothing in the washer together.  She'd wake up naked, but he didn't
think she'd care, based on her behavior during the evening.

   He carried her to the bathroom and laid her on the floor, while he got a
washcloth to clean her up.  He couldn't help but assess her body as he
cleaned her.  Her breasts were modest mounds, with tiny areolas and very
dark nipples.  She apparently wore a bikini, because her pubic hair was
trimmed to a very small patch, just above the split of her sex.  Her pussy
lips were white and tightly closed.  He couldn't do much about her hair,
which had gotten soiled as he carried her around.  He left her on the floor
and stepped into the shower to get the stink off of himself.  She was
snoring when he got out and dried off.

   He put her in what they called the tall grass room.  She flopped limply
as he arranged her in bed.  He didn't want to put her on her back, in case
she upchucked again.  She could choke.  Things were bad enough without
something like that.  He covered her up so she'd stay warm, turned the
light off and closed the door.

   He called the mansion and a drunken male voice picked up the phone,
yelling "HAPPY NEW YEAR!" Bobby asked for Felicity or Millie and the man
said "Hang on."

   Ten minutes later it was obvious he had been forgotten.  He couldn't
call back, because the man had just laid the phone down.  He hung up in
disgust and went to bed.

   Chapter Eleven



   Bobby woke early, both because he hadn't had anything to drink and
primarily because he hadn't had anything to eat and his stomach was
screaming at him.  He got up, got dressed, and went to the kitchen.  Along
the way he looked in on Paula, who was still snoring, in exactly the same
position he'd left her in.

   He had just finished eating the eggs and bacon he'd cooked for himself
when he heard a shaky female voice call out "Hello?" That was followed by a
groan.

   "In the kitchen!" he yelled.  If she couldn't figure out where the
kitchen was, he didn't really care.

   Paula's bedraggled head appeared, peeking around the corner of the
entrance to the room.  "Hello?" she said, much more softly.  Even then she
winced.

   "Well, you're alive," he said.  "That counts for something."

   "You don't have to yell," she moaned.

   "You want something to eat?" he asked.  He pointed to his plate, which
was streaked yellow from the yolks of the eggs he'd eaten.

   She went even more pale and her hand went from her head to her mouth. 
She lurched to the sink and he heard her retching.  It didn't sound like
there was much to bring up.  He looked at her.  She was wearing one of the
thick robes they provided for the guests.  She retched again, but he didn't
go help her.  Served her right, as far as he was concerned.  She fumbled
for the faucet handle and he saw her catch some water in her hand and bring
it to her mouth.  Her hair was hanging down into the sink and it was
getting wet.  She spit and then turned around.

   "What happened?" she asked.

   "You got hammered," said Bobby.  He left the plate in full view.

   "Why did you let me drink so much?" she complained.

   "I didn't LET you do anything!" he said.

   She winced.  "Please don't shout like that." She looked around.  "Where
am I?"

   "You're at our bed and breakfast," he said.  "I tried to take you home,
but it was all locked up.  I figured bringing you here was better than
taking you back to the party."

   "Where's Millie?" she whined.

   "I have no idea," he said.

   She seemed to become aware of her own odor.  "I stink," she moaned.

   "You threw up on everything," he said, his voice heavy.

   She wobbled to the table and pulled out a chair.  She sat down, looked
at the plate, then closed her eyes.

   "Would you please put that somewhere else?" she asked, pointing vaguely
to the plate.

   He got up and put the plate in the sink.  He could see she hadn't thrown
much, if anything, up in there.  He went and sat down again.  She had her
head in her hands.

   "Why am I naked?" she asked.

   "I had to wash your clothes," he said.  "Mine too."

   She looked up, and her eyes widened.  "You took my clothes off?"

   "It was either that or let you sleep in them," he said.  "I wasn't too
keen about getting the sheets that stinky.  It would have gone clear
through to the mattress.  I had to give you a sponge bath.  You can take a
shower now, if you want."

   She seemed to be thinking about something, because she frowned.

   "Am I still a virgin?" she asked.

   Bobby hadn't thought this girl could startle him any more than she
already had.  She certainly hadn't acted like a virgin last night ... 
anything but, in fact.

   "If you were a virgin when I met you, you're still a virgin now," he
said.  She seemed to relax.

   "My sister is going to kill me," she moaned.

   "Well you've learned your lesson now ...  I hope," he said.

   "All I ever had before was beer," she said.  "Beer doesn't do that to
me."

   "I thought you just turned twenty-one," he said.

   She looked up at him.  "You've never been to college, have you." It was
a statement, rather than a question.

   "Nope," he said.

   "Can I have my clothes, please?" she asked.  Gone was the flirtatious
girl he'd met the night before.  She was thoroughly cowed now.

   "Nope," he said again.

   Her head popped up and she winced.  "Why not?" she almost whispered.

   "’Cause they're still in the washer," he said happily.  "You go
take a shower and I'll put them in the dryer."

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

   Paula French stood under the hot water, which felt really good, except
that they seemed to have the strongest water pressure she'd ever felt in
her whole life.  She put her hands on top of her head to keep the water
from beating her to death.  Eventually it wasn't so bad and her hands went
to take inventory of her body.  She didn't know what it felt like to have
had a penis inside her, but she was pretty sure she should be able to tell,
somehow.  She didn't buy his comment that she was still a virgin.  If he'd
gotten her naked, he'd probably fucked her too.

   What was odd about it was that part of her hoped he HAD fucked her. 
She'd been worried to death about losing her virginity for years.  She'd
been sure it would happen when she went to college and got away from her
restrictive parents.  And there had been lots and lots of boys who were
eager to help her.  The problem was she always chickened out when the time
came.  She was really good at getting to that point, but then she got
terrified and wouldn't let the boy get the job done.

   Once she'd called a screaming halt right in the middle of the good part,
men seemed to lose interest in helping her any more.  That was why she went
through men like poop through a goose, though her sister didn't know that.

   Her fingers went to her pussy lips and one probed inside.  Her hymen was
long gone, but she was sure it would hurt if he had forced his penis inside
her.  She felt nothing.  Well, nothing except what she usually felt when
she did this.  It felt exactly the same as it always had.

   She turned the water off and got out to dry off.  She looked at herself
in the mirror.  There were no hickeys on her breasts or neck ...  no sign
that anything had happened.  She felt relief and disappointment at the same
time.  If he'd fucked her, it would be over and she wouldn't have to worry
about that any more.

   She combed out her hair and gathered it to toss down the back of the
robe she put back on.  She could still smell the faint odor of vomit coming
from the robe, but it wasn't bad.  Her stomach felt better too, after the
shower.

   She went back to the kitchen.  He was nowhere to be seen, but there was
a glass of tomato juice sitting on the table in front of the chair she'd
sat in.  She sat down and sipped.  Her stomach lurched, but not too badly.
She saw two aspirin lying on the table too, and washed them down with
another sip of the juice.  She heard the clothes dryer running in the next
room, but concentrated on getting the rest of the juice down.

   She was feeling almost human when she heard a door open, then close, and
the voices of women.  She winced as they trooped into the kitchen and
stopped still, staring at her.  There were two women, about her own age,
both blond.  Each was carrying a bundled up baby.  A dark haired woman was
behind them, carrying a little boy.

   "Who are you?" asked one of the girls.  Paula could see now that they
were twins.

   "Paula," she said, as softly as she could.  "Could you please talk a
little more quietly?"

   The woman pushed past the girls and set the boy down on the floor.  She
took his coat off and he ran towards the living room.

   "I assume Bobby brought you here," said the woman.  She was frowning. 
"Where is he?"

   "I have no idea," moaned Paula.  The woman's voice seemed to stab
directly into her brain.

   "Hangover," said one of the twins.

   "Humph," said the woman.  "Betty, go see if he's out in the barn."

   She took the baby from one of the girls, who turned and left the way
they had come.

   One of the babies started to fuss and the two women left the kitchen,
taking the babies away, something Paula was extremely grateful for.  The
woman was back soon, though, and was doing something at the counter when
the girl apparently named Betty came back in.

   "He was getting a bucket from the barn," said Betty.  "Her clothes are
in the dryer.  He said he'll be in in a minute."

   Paula found herself being scrutinized by the woman, who was frowning
again.

   "Who are you, exactly?" asked the woman .

   "My name is Paula French.  I'm visiting my sister, Millie Vaughn."

   "Oh that's just GREAT!" said the woman, making Paula flinch again as her
voice got loud.

   "Please," she moaned, covering her ears.

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

   The noise level got worse before it got better, because when Bobby came
in there was a lot of yelling that went on.  All three women seemed to be
upset with Bobby for bringing her here.  He explained it to them the same
way he'd explained it to her.  Along the way she found out that the woman
was Bobby's mother and the twins were his sisters.  Pretty soon, the twins
seemed to lose interest and left the kitchen.  His mother went back to the
counter and started making coffee.

   Bobby went to the dryer and brought her clothes back.  He put them on
the table, with her bra and panties on top.  She saw his mother staring at
them and then at her.

   "Go get dressed," he said.  He sounded mad.  "I'll take you home, as
soon as you clean out my car."

   "What?" she moaned, looking up at him.

   "You puked all over my car.  You're going to clean it up," he said.

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

   By the time she got dressed and went back downstairs, he had filled a
bucket with warm sudsy water and had two rags in it.  He loaned her a
jacket, then stood and watched as she swabbed at the stains in the floor
and on the vinyl seat covers.

   "I'm sorry," she said as she wrung the rag out.

   "I should have taken the champagne away from you," he said.

   "I was having so much fun," she moaned.

   "Well, fun for you turns out to be not so much fun for everybody else,"
he said.

   "I was just excited that I could drink legally."

   "Well, I hope you learned a lesson."

   "I did." Her voice was heartfelt.

   "In that case, I guess I'll help a little."

   They cleaned up the car and he threw the water into the yard.  He put
the rags in the bucket and set it on the step to the porch.  Ten minutes
later they were driving away from the farm.

   "Why are you taking me here?" asked Paula, when she saw their
destination.  He had taken her back to Chumley Manor.

   "Our coats are here," he said.  "I'll get them and be right back."

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

   His welcome, by Felicity, was less than convivial.

   "Where the hell have you been?!" she snarled.

   "She got drunk at YOUR party," said Bobby defensively.  "She passed out.
I tried to take her home, but the place was locked up."

   "Millie is furious!" snapped Felicty.  "I am too!  Why didn't you come
tell us what was going on?"

   "I was going to, but then she puked all over the car and got some on me
too.  I tried to call and some guy answered the phone, but never came back
with you.  What else was I supposed to do?"

   "Where did you take her?"

   "Our place."

   "Ohhh great," moaned Felicity.  "Millie's going to kill me."

   “She said Millie was going to kill her too," said Bobby.  "I just
tried to take care of her."

   "Please tell me you didn't take care of her like you took care of me,"
moaned Felicity.

   "Of course not," he snapped.  "I cleaned her up and put her to bed -
alone!"

   "All right," said Felicity, sounding injured.  "You don't have to yell."


   "Well everybody seems to be yelling at ME!" he snarled.  "All I did was
take care of her and now everybody seems to think it was all my fault! 
Would you rather I'd just carried her into the party and dropped her at
Millie's feet?"

   "No," said Felicity.  "You did the right thing.  I told Millie it would
be all right, when you two went missing.  I'm not sure she believed me,
though.  She was yelling something about their parents and how she was
supposed to keep an eye on Paula."

   "Well she's still a virgin," said Bobby heavily.  "OK?"

   "How do you know that?" asked Felicity, on guard now.

   "Because the first thing she asked me this morning was if she was still
a virgin or not, that's why."

   "She did?" asked Flicity, blinking in surprise.  "The way she was acting
last night I sure wouldn't have thought so."

   "Me either," admitted Bobby.  "I was a little worried there, for a
while. If she hadn't passed out, I was afraid she was going to drag me off
to a guest bedroom."

   Felicity frowned.  "You weren't in any of them.  We looked.  Why did you
bring her back here?"

   "We left out coats here last night."

   "Of course," said Felicity.  "We found them when we were looking for
you. That's why Millie insisted on searching all the bedrooms."

   "I told you I'd behave myself," he said, his voice surly.

   "You did and I should have trusted you," said Felicity.  "I'm sorry."

   "Call Millie, would you?" he asked.  "I don't want to get the third
degree when I get her home."

   "No problem," said Felicity.

   Felicity turned out to be wrong.  Millie was furious when he got Paula
to the front door.  She wouldn't even speak to Bobby.  She snatched at her
sister, pulled her in the front door, and then slammed the door in Bobby's
face.  He turned around and went back to his car.

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

   He thought he was done with Paula French.  It turned out Felicity wasn't
the only one who could be wrong, when it came to Millie Vaughn.

   Ever since Millie had suggested to Felicity that Bobby Dalton might be
the solution to her "problem," she had seen things that gave her something
to think about.  Millie had made her recommendation based on rumors she'd
heard about Bobby.  She was never at Felicity's when Bobby was also there,
but she knew he was a frequent visitor, both before ...  and after ...  he
was hired to escort Felicity to her high school reunion.  That, in itself,
was her biggest clue.  Felicity had complained long and loud about having
to "deal with Bobby Dalton," but that was BEFORE he took her to Kansas
City. After that, Felicity's attitude had changed completely.  And Bobby
was known to have visited the mansion many times since then.  Some of that
was rumor too, but some of it she got from Felicity herself.

   One time, for example, she had casually mentioned to Felicity that Bobby
seemed to go out there a lot.  Felicity had said "He's an excellent
handyman," and had then changed the subject.  In fact every time Millie
brought Bobby up, Felicity changed the subject.  But gone were her harsh
words for what she had, at one time, called "that insufferable man!"

   And then, of course, there were Felicity's children.  They were gorgeous
...  no doubt about that ...  and as sweet as the day is long.  But hardly
anyone believed that Chester was responsible for them, including Millie,
Felicity's calm assertions notwithstanding.

   All that had been fine.  From Millie's viewpoint, what Felicity didn't
get caught doing was her business.  She was a bit puzzled that Chester had
taken the pregnancies so calmly ...  had even seemed to enjoy them ...  and
he was certainly a doting father to “his children.”

   But there were other rumors about Bobby Dalton too.  That was why she
had resisted the idea that Bobby be Paula's date for New Year's Eve.  She
had let Felicity talk her into it, which should have been warning in and of
itself, considering what she believed had happened between Felicity and the
man.  That, added to what she assumed her little sister was doing with all
those men she went through, had her livid.

   Now she was mad at herself, because she was thoroughly convinced that
her baby sister had been soiled by Bobby.

   "What am I going to tell Mom and Dad?!" she yelled at Paula.

   "Don't tell them anything!" shouted Paula in return.  The tomato juice
had settled her stomach and the aspirin had dulled her headache.  She was
back in what she had, prior to this, fondly called "purgatory." Her sister
had the same values as their parents and was just as stuffy.

   "It's bad enough that you carry on like a slut at college!" yelled
Millie.  "But to come here, to stay with me, and do that is just
unforgivable!"

   "Do what?" yelled Paula.  "I didn't do anything!"

   "You got drunk and slept with a common laborer!" shouted Millie.

   "I did NOT sleep with him!" screamed Paula.

   "Yes you did!" snorted Millie.  "I know that man.  He's had half the
women in this town!"

   "He said he didn't touch me," said Paula, uncertain now.

   "And you BELIEVED him?!" crowed Millie.  "What do you remember about
last night?"

   "Dancing," said Paula, weakly.

   "What do you remember about when you were alone with him?" asked Millie,
an edge in her voice.  "Felicity told me you were passed out when he took
you off to rape you!"

   "He didn't rape me!" moaned Paula.

   "So you LET him?!" screamed Millie, incredulously.

   "NO!" shouted Paula.  "I told you, he didn't touch me!"

   "Tell me everything you remember!" insisted Millie.

   Paula tried to lie her way through it.  She said she passed out and
didn't remember anything until she woke up in bed, still dressed."

   "That's not what Felicity told me!" thundered Millie.  "According to her
that Dalton man said you threw up." She grabbed the sleeve of Paula's
blouse and pulled it to her nose.  "These clothes smell freshly laundered!
How did you pull THAT off, if you slept in your clothes?"

   As any decent interrogator will tell you, the key to breaking down a
subject is exploiting changes in the subject's story.  Those changes prove,
in and of themselves, that the subject has lied.  All you have to do is
make them tell the story over and over again until it doesn't change any
more, then chances are, you have pretty much the truth.

   Millie wasn't a professional interrogator, but instinct served her well.
By the time she had browbeat the real memories out of her little sister,
she felt ill.  She was sure that Bobby had had his way with her, probably
while she was passed out and helpless.

   "You're probably pregnant!" shouted Millie.  "When was your last period?
Are you on the pill?  I'm calling the police!"

   She did, too, right in front of her horrified sister.

   Chapter Twelve



   Clancy Higgins liked his job.  He was the Chief of Police in Granger,
which meant he had very little to do, most of the time.  He had a records
clerk, who doubled as a secretary and booking clerk, one full time
patrolman, so that there could be somebody on duty all the time, and a
cadre of four reserve officers, who were basically friends of his who
volunteered to help out if it was needed.  They'd been deputized, but only
came to the city jail to do training on Thursday nights.  Training
consisted of poker, usually.  On Thursday nights, during the poker games,
Tom Wilkinson, a forty-five year old confirmed bachelor and the full time
patrolman, watched the town so the training session could include
refreshments.  That was beer.

   Clancy, and Tom too, for that matter, spent the majority of their time
trying to disrupt and discourage the flow of illegal beverages to the youth
of Granger.  They usually managed to confiscate enough beer that Thursday
nights were covered, for the most part.  Much of the discussion during
training meetings was about the merits of one brand of beer over another,
since they never knew what brand they'd be drinking.

   The rest of their time was spent making the town a little money with the
speed traps on either end of Granger.  There was the occasional dust up
between husband and wife that got enough out of control that a neighbor
called.  Usually all it took was Clancy or Tom's arrival to settle things
down.  Once in a while somebody would get drunk at the bar on the edge of
town, but that wasn't a frequent situation.  Alice Covington, who owned and
operated the bar, liked things quiet in her place.  She was also death on
kids who tried to sneak in and customers who tried to sneak beer out to the
kids.  The state Alcohol Beverage Control officers weren't anywhere near as
accommodating as Clancy was and they could shut her down instantly.

   So, to say the least, it was highly unusual to have a woman on the phone
screaming about rape.  Clancy had been in the office today, because Tom had
let him spend Christmas with his family.  So he was there when the call
came in.  He'd called Wilamina, his secretary, in to man the phones while
he went out to see about this rape complaint.  Clancy checked his gear,
while Wilamina asked him if there was anything she should do.

   "Might need you to collect evidence at the hospital," he said softly. 
Clancy said everything softly.  It was his style.  He tried to cultivate a
soft, deadly sounding voice, which he had been taught way back in the
police academy when he was thirty years younger.  He'd worked on the
Granger force for twenty-five years and had been Chief for twenty of them.
He knew what worked with his constituency and stuck with that.  "I'll call
you if I need you."

   "Right, Chief!" said Wilamina.  She fussed with papers on her desk and
tried to look busy.  She'd never been called in on a holiday like this and
it had flustered her.

   "Call Tom," said Clancy.  "Tell him to come on down.  I might need him
too."

   "That will mean overtime," warned his financial secretary.

   "I think the town fathers might not yell too much about that if this
turns out to be the real thing," he said.

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

   Clancy left Millie's house with more questions on his mind than answers.
He knew Bobby Dalton, of course.  He might run a low profile operation, but
he had ears and people told him things.  He'd heard all the rumors about
the Dalton boy.  Trouble was there had never been any complaints.  In
Clancy's book, he didn't care much what you did as long as nobody
complained.  The air-headed members of the state legislature were forever
poking their noses where nobody wanted them and practically everybody who
had ever been on the town council wanted people to know that an ordinance
was in place because of their vigilant service to the community.  That
meant there were scads of laws on the books that were just plain stupid. 
And Clancy didn't believe laws should be stupid.  He firmly believed that a
law should protect someone and, even then, it should only protect those who
couldn't fend for themselves.  The blue laws were one of his prime examples
of stupid laws.  He went to church, and he'd read the Bible, and had never
seen anything in there about keeping stores closed just because it was
Sunday.



   But he had a complainant this time.  Or at least he had one in theory.
Now all he had to do was find her.

   It had taken him ten minutes to get Millie settled down enough to talk
straight.  Then, when he asked to talk to her sister, the girl was nowhere
to be found.  She seemed to have flown the coop.  Not only that, her
suitcase was gone with her.  That got Millie going again about how her
parents would never forgive her if her baby sister came to harm and about
how he had to find her.  He wasn't sure if he was doing a rape
investigation, or a missing persons investigation.

   That there hadn't ever been a rape complaint in Granger, at least in the
time he'd been working there, didn't mean that sex didn't cause problems in
town.  There were always men and women who got together and raised an
uproar when their husbands or wives found out about it.  Adultery was a
misdemeanor, punishable by both a fine and up to thirty days imprisonment,
but things rarely got that far.

   But in this case, adultery didn't even apply.  Neither the Dalton boy,
nor Millie's sister were married.  Both were of age and if they wanted to
get involved in some hanky panky, that was perfectly legal ...  as long as
nobody got forced.

   Clancy reviewed his options as he drove away from the Vaughn place. 
Hanky panky seemed the more likely situation.  While he had no idea where
to look for the girl, he knew where Bobby Dalton lived.

   He called in to Wilamina and told her to have Tom go back home, if he
was there, and to call and cancel if he wasn't.  He said he'd be in touch
after he did some more investigation.

   Then he headed for the Dalton farm.

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

   It was Betty who happened to see someone walking up the driveway to the
house.  She peered out the window, but all she could tell was that it was
someone carrying a suitcase.  She got her mother ...  who could tell it was
a woman carrying a suitcase ...  and she got Bobby ...  who groaned when he
recognized the woman with the suitcase and went out to see what was going
on.

   "What are you doing here?" he asked as she trudged up to him.

   "I need someplace to stay for a few days," she said.

   "She kicked you out?" he asked, incredulously.

   "No she did NOT kick me out!" snapped Paula.  "I LEFT!"

   "This is not going to work out well," sighed Bobby.

   "You're telling me.  I left while she was calling the fuzz."

   "What?" Bobby perked up.

   "She thinks you raped me.  She called the man about it.  That's when I
decided to leave."

   "This can't be happening," moaned Bobby.  "Why in hell did you come
here?"

   "Because I know you didn't rape me and I need someplace to stay until my
roommate picks me up on January sixth."

   Bobby stared at her.

   "My roommate dropped me off on her way home for the holidays.  She's
picking me up to take me back to school on Thursday." Paula shifted the
suitcase to her other hand.

   "How'd you get here?" asked Bobby.

   "I hitched," she said.  "I had to walk the last mile.  I'm tired and
it's cold.  Can I come in or not?"

   "You are gonna get me in SO much trouble!" moaned Bobby.

   "No I'm not.  I told you I know you didn't rape me.  I have money.  I
can pay to stay here.  You said it was a bed and breakfast, right?  That's
what the sign back there says too." She lifted her empty hand and pointed
her thumb over her shoulder.

   "Come on in," he sighed.  He didn't know what else to do.

   Mirriam was waiting for them.  She stopped them both in the utility
room. The twins were hovering in the kitchen.  When Mirriam heard the story
she threw up her hands.

   "Does Millie know where you are?" she asked.

   "No," said Paula.

   "I'd better call her."

   "No!" said Paula.  She didn't quite yell.  "I'm twenty-one.  They treat
me like I'm still a kid.  I have money.  I can pay and I can go where I
want."

   "She called the police, child," sighed Mirriam.

   "Don't you go calling me child!" said Paula, her chin jutting out.

   "Well that's what you're acting like," said Mirriam.  "Running away from
home!" she snorted.

   "Can I stay or not?" asked Paula, doggedly.

   "I have to call the police," said Mirriam.  "For all I know, they're on
their way here right now to arrest my son."

   "You can call them," said Paula.  "I'll even talk to them.  I'll tell
them it's all a mistake, OK?"

   There was the sound of tires on gravel outside, and Bobby turned to look
through the window.

   "Don't have to call anybody," he called.  "They're already here."

   All the women got upset, including the twins.  Bobby figured that as
long as Paula did what she said she'd do and said what she said she'd say,
it would all blow over.  He opened the door as Clancy got out of his squad
car.

   Clancy walked to the porch and peered inside.

   "You wouldn't, by chance, be named Paula, would you?" he asked, looking
past Bobby to the only person he'd never seen before.

   "Yes sir," said Paula.  She looked suddenly scared.

   "Mind if we have a little chat?" he asked.

   "That would be fine," said Paula.

   "Why don't we chat in the car," suggested Clancy.  He looked at the
suitcase in her hand.  "You can bring that with you, if you like."

   "I'm staying here," said Paula.  Her chin was out again.

   "Well, let's just have our chat and then you can decide what you want to
do, how's that?" he asked.  He looked at Bobby, who spoke.

   "I know, I know, don't leave town."

   Clancy grinned at him.  "Be back in a bit," he said.

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

   Of course the twins were glued to the window.  Mirriam paced.

   "I knew your ways would get you in trouble," she moaned.

   "Mamma, nothing happened," sighed Bobby.

   "You've got to learn to keep that thing in your pants!" whined Mirriam,
apparently ignoring his protestation of innocence.

   "That thing, as you call it," he said, "was in my pants all night long."


   "You better hope she doesn't describe it to Chief Higgins!" said his
mother heatedly.

   "Mamma, I told you ...  nothing happened.  I brought her home and put
her to bed and that's it."

   "HE'S COMING BACK!" squealed Matilda.

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

   Clancy wanted to talk to Bobby too.  Bobby hadn't told the exact truth
to his mother.  Actually, he just hadn't told her everything.  She was
worried enough that some facts just hadn’t seemed like they would
really help things.  He wasn't going to do that with Clancy, though.  He
had no idea what the girl had told the Chief, but he was going to be
completely forthcoming.  For that reason, Bobby intended to ask that the
interview be private.  Clancy beat him to it.

   "Mizz Dalton?" he said, as he walked into the utility room.  "I need to
have a nice quiet talk with Bobby here.  Where could two men have a chat in
private?" Bobby thought it was almost funny that the chief had emphasized
the “Mizz” in his address.

   "The girls and I can go to our rooms," suggested Mirriam.  She looked
worried.

   "Well I'd sort of like to see the room this young woman says she stayed
in last night.  You suppose we could kill two birds with one stone?"

   "Of course," said Mirriam.  "Follow me."

   "I imagine Bobby knows the way," suggested Clancy.

   "Follow me," said Bobby.

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

   "Right nice room," said Clancy, looking around.  "You do the place up?"

   "Yes sir," said Bobby.

   "I figured," said Clancy, smiling.  "So why don't you tell me your side
of the story."

   "I got fixed up as a blind date with her," said Bobby.  "I met her at
the Chumley manor and we danced and she gulped champagne all evening.  I
tried to get her to eat something in the kitchen and she passed out."

   He paused, but Clancy just nodded.

   "So it was either take her to her sister, which I figured would be
embarrassing for both her and Felicity, or take her home.  I tried that,
but the place was locked up, so I brought her here."

   "Why didn't you just take her back to the Chumley's?" asked Clancy.

   "When I put her in the car, she barfed all over everything.  That was
before we even left.  I for sure couldn't take her back in there then."

   "What was she wearing?" asked Clancy.

   "Same thing she has on now," said Bobby.

   "She doesn't smell like puke," said Clancy.

   "I cleaned her up and washed her clothes.  Mine too.  I wasn't going to
put her in one of our beds smelling like that.  It would have gone through
to the mattress."

   "So you took her clothes off of her," said Clancy.

   "Yes sir."

   "Did you have sex with her?"

   "No sir.  I didn't even touch her, except to clean her up a little."

   "Why not?" asked Clancy.  "She's a cute little thing."

   "She smelled like puke," said Bobby.  "I don't know if that turns you
on, but not so much for me."

   Clancy's eyes narrowed, but then he relaxed.

   "You change the sheets yet?" he asked.

   "Yes sir," said Bobby.  "They're down in the laundry room now.  I don't
think they've been washed yet.  My mamma is a bit upset about all this."

   "I can imagine," said Clancy.

   "You want to see my room?" asked Bobby.

   "Maybe later," said Clancy.  "She described this room to a tee.  I'm
satisfied this was the room she woke up in.  Let's go take a look at those
sheets."

   Bobby took him to the utility room, where the sheets were still puddled
up, waiting to be washed.  Clancy pulled them up to his nose and sniffed.
Then he had Bobby help him stretch the bottom sheet out and lay it on the
floor.  Clancy leaned down.  He seemed interested in the area where it a
woman's hips would likely have rested.  He stood back up.

   "Now your room," he said.

   Bobby took him there.  The bed hadn't been made.  There was only one
pillow on it.  Clancy pulled the covers back to expose the same general
area he'd been interested in on the sheet in the utility room.

   Then Clancy wanted to see Bobby's car.  He leaned in and sniffed.

   "Smell don't come out easy, does it?" he asked, smiling.

   "No sir," said Bobby.

   "Need to have a word with your mother and sisters," he said.

   "They didn't get home until this morning," said Bobby.

   "She was still here when they got home, though, right?" asked Clancy.

   "Yes sir."

   "Then I need a word with them."

   This time it was Bobby who was excluded, though Clancy did speak with
all three at the same time, taking them into Mirriam's bedroom, which was
the closest room where a door could be closed and give them privacy.  They
followed him out maybe five minutes later.

   "Well," he said to the room at large.  He went on almost as if he were
talking to himself.  "I don't see any evidence that a rape took place here.
I don't have a complainant to rape.  She's of legal age and so is the
suspect, so if they DID have sex, and it was consensual, there's no crime
there.  I guess I'll apologize to you nice folks and go on about my
business."

   Clancy turned to Mirriam.

   "She wants to stay here," he said.  "Says she wants to rent a room.  How
do you feel about that?"

   "Do I look crazy?" asked Mirriam.

   "I can take her to the motel," said Clancy, “but the fact is she's
free, white and twenty-one.  I think her sister just got confused about
some things.  She swears up and down she's not going back there." He cupped
his chin, like he was thinking.  "Seems to me that if anybody wanted to try
to push things, it would sure take the wind out of their sails if she was
voluntarily staying here." He smiled at Mirriam.  "Not that it's any
business of mine, you understand.  You run your business however you feel
is right, ma'am."

   Mirriam's eyes narrowed.  "I hadn't thought of that," she said.

   "The way I figure it, she's a right lucky girl to have been with Bobby
here when she got all likkered up," said Clancy.  "Aren't a whole lot of
men as wouldn’t have taken advantage of a pretty girl like that, in
the condition she was in."

   "What will you tell Millie?" asked Mirriam.

   "Same thing I told you.  It's an unfounded case.  Got no probable cause
to base an investigation on.  Girl can go where she wants and stay where
she wants."

   "And you think it would be all right if she stayed here?" Mirriam
sounded unsure.

   "Like I said, it'd be pretty hard to suggest she was unhappy about
anything if she decided she wanted to stay here."

   "All right then," said Mirriam.

   "I'll just go give her the good news," said Clancy.  "You all have a
nice day.  Happy New Year."

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

   Millie sat and stared at the wallpaper.  She'd been livid when that
excuse for a policeman had come back and told her what his "investigation"
had determined.

   She hadn't dropped it.  She'd called the Dalton place.  She'd argued for
over an hour with Paula before the line had just gone dead.  She couldn't
believe Paula had just hung up on her.

   Things Paula had said ...  screamed, really ...  still rang in her head.
She hadn't handled it well.  She regretted calling Paula a slut.  Paula's
anguished cry had come back "I'M STILL A FUCKING VIRGIN!" and then, a moan
of despair: "Why won't anybody believe me?"

   Millie's automatic response had been "Why would they?  Look at all the
boyfriends you've had!"

   Millie sighed.  Their mother had chosen well for Millie.  Her husband
was stable.  They were important people in the community.  They were well
to do and members of the country club.  They got invited to the best
parties.  And their mother's constant warnings about men had proven to be
true too.  She knew that, now that she was married.  Men looked at her all
the time.  She knew what they wanted.  But she was strong and decent.  "If
only Paula had listened to mother," she thought.

   She got up.  She had things to do.  She had tried.  She could look her
mother in the face and honestly say she'd tried to get Paula to listen to
good sense.  If her baby sister was going to be a fool, it was on her
shoulders now.

   She went to find her list of things to do.  She should be able to get
two or three things marked off by supper.

   Chapter Thirteen



   The hostility Mirriam felt towards Paula, who had brought so much
trouble and danger to her family, seeped away as she listened to the
painful pleading of the girl on the phone.  It was clear that Millie was
saying hurtful things.  Mirriam heard the yelled "slut" clear across the
kitchen.  And, of course, the girl's protestations of virtue.

   Mirriam thanked her lucky stars that Bobby had taken care of the girl,
instead of taking advantage.  She felt bad almost instantly at thinking
Bobby would consider taking advantage.  She had argued with herself about
her own relationship with her son.  She knew she was weak ...  that she
couldn't resist him.  She knew that he pressed her sometimes.  But he
wasn't taking advantage of her.  She admitted that to herself.  And she
knew he hadn't taken advantage of the twins.  They spent too many nights in
his bed for her to believe they ever regretted being there.  They thought
they were so clever and quiet, waiting for their mother to go to bed to
join Bobby.  Sometimes she wanted to laugh at them.  But they were so full
of love for Bobby, and their babies, she couldn't look at what had happened
there as anything but a joyful experience for them all.

   Just like all of Joe's babies had turned out to be a joyful experience
for her.  It had been hard, sometimes.  But she wouldn’t change a
minute of it, if she had the chance to do so.

   The girl was crying when she slammed the phone down.  Mirriam couldn't
just let her be in pain alone like that.

   She went to hold the crying young woman.

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

   It was only minutes before the phone had rung again.  It was Will
Bradford and he asked for Bobby.  Mirriam went back to the kitchen to be
with Paula after she called for Bobby to come to the phone.

   "What's up?" asked Bobby.

   "Christy just took Erica to the hospital," said Will.  "She's in labor."


   "Well, she's been wanting to get this over with," said Bobby.  "Is she
OK?"

   "She's asking for you," said Will.  "Except she also said for me to tell
you not to come to the hospital." He sounded exasperated.

   "Any idea what that really means?" asked Bobby.

   "It means she wants you there, but she's worried that if you show up it
will start rumors about who the father of her baby is."

   "What do you think I should do?" asked Bobby.  It had been a weird day
already.  What was a little more weirdness?

   "I think you and I and Tilly and Jake should all go see her at the same
time," said Will.  "Then people will just think it's the folks who were
associated with the musical seeing the director.  I could probably get some
kids to go see her too, but I don't know if they'll let them in."

   "Let's not get the kids involved," said Bobby.  "I like your idea about
Jake and Tilly.  Have you talked to them?"

   "They're already on the way by now, if what Tilly said happens."

   "I'll pick you up in half an hour," said Bobby.

   "I'll be ready."

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

   Paula wasn't stupid.  She HAD listened to her mother.  She DID remember
all the warnings.  But, once out from under the dominating thumb of her
parents, she also found out that there were all kinds of opportunities in
the world to have fun and be joyful.  It was fun to be with men who doted
on you ...  spent money on you ...  wanted you.  It was fun to flirt and
kiss and rub up against them.  And, when she started feeling those emotions
that might get her in trouble, she could put on the brakes.  It wasn't fun,
but she could do it.

   It had never occurred to her that men might be different.  She just
naturally assumed they could stop too.  Wasn't that what had happened last
night?  She couldn't remember any of it, but she knew she had been naked in
front of a man.  Completely naked!  That had never happened before.  She
was a good girl.  She'd always been a good girl.  And the man who could
have done anything he wanted to her had stopped.  Her mother was wrong! 
She had gotten through last night safely, with her virginity intact!

   Now, though, her sister had called her a slut.  Her mother would agree.
She knew that.  And Millie would tell her mother everything.  She would
detail all of Paula's transgressions and then carefully explain everything
she had done to try to correct the errant sister.

   It was knowing that she would never be able to go home again that broke
her heart.  It was those sobs that were wracking her body when loving arms
went around her and she was pulled into a comforting embrace.

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

   Supper only heightened the comfort for Paula.  The twins, once they saw
their mother accept someone, just naturally joined in.  Bobby was still
gone, so she didn't have to face him.  He'd been investigated and it was
really all her fault.  At least that's the way she thought of it.  But they
all treated her as if she were welcome, and their relaxed attitude seeped
into her and let her relax too.

   Paula had never really been around babies for more than half an hour at
a time, or so.  Perhaps because Paula was their age, the twins assumed she
wouldn't mind if they fed their babies at the table.  It did give her
pause, for a few seconds, when Matilda pulled up her shirt as if to display
one breast for some unknown reason.  The baby that eagerly sucked at her
nipple, though, explained it instantly.  Paula looked at Mirriam, who was
looking at her as if she were evaluating something.  When Paula went back
to eating, though, her hostess said nothing.  Betty soon followed suit and
there were two noisy babies at the table.  What astonished Paula was how
sensual the wet sucking sounds and tiny gulps sounded.  She wondered if
they did that when Bobby was around and could see them.

   Then, after supper, there was the gentle hum of various activities going
on.  She joined the twins, who sat in front of the TV, with the sound
turned down low, burping the babies and then changing diapers.  She was
astonished at how loving and gentle the women were with the tiny wriggling
things ...  how they cooed at them and played with their feet.  She heard
the clink of dishes in the kitchen.  It was so calm in this house, not
tense like she remembered her own home to have been.

   She thought about that.  What had made her own home tense?  Was it the
constant lectures about the dangers of life?  Was it that she didn't
remember any soft talking?  She remembered how whenever the TV had been on,
there had been no talking allowed.  Especially during Perry Mason.  Even if
she had a question about homework, her mother would wave her hand, without
breaking eye contact with the television, and go "SHHHH!"

   Paula realized she had been napping when her head jerked up.  Mirriam
was reading a book, curled up in a chair.  Betty was still there, playing a
stand up and sit down game with Veronica.  Paula got up.

   "I think I'll go to bed," she said.

   "Good night," said Mirriam, looking up from her book.  "I hope you sleep
well."

   In bed, Paula thought about how her life had changed.  In less than
twenty-four hours, she had lost her family and struck out on her own.  She
still had one semester of college to complete.  She had no idea what she'd
do then.  She knew she was supposed to get a job, but it hadn't seemed that
urgent until now.  Now, she knew she wouldn't be welcome at home.  She had
become the black sheep of her family.  Now, she really needed a job after
school.  What would it be like?  She decided it wouldn't be much different
than being at school.  She'd go to work instead of to classes.  She already
did her own laundry and shopping and cooking.  Maybe she would meet the man
she could let herself loose with.

   As she drifted off to sleep, she wondered what falling in love would be
like.

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

   Erica gave a final convulsive push and felt the pain, stretching and
pressure just vanish.  She sank back with a gasp, panting and looked up at
Will.  He had been allowed in the delivery room as her closest family
member, and had held her hand while she went through all the things she'd
learned in the Lamaze classes she'd taken.  She hadn't taken a coach with
her to the classes.  She'd been convinced she didn't need one.

   Now, though, she looked at Will with adoring eyes.  He'd been such a
rock, asking her what she was supposed to be doing, making her concentrate
when her own frazzled thoughts threatened to make it all come undone. 
She'd done it all without drugs and felt prouder, at this moment, then
she'd ever felt in her life.

   "Eleven fifty-two!" said an excited nurse.

   "Just made it," said the grinning doctor.  "Congratulations on having
the first baby born on New Year’s Day in Granger in I don't know how
long." The singularly identifiable noise of a crying baby filled the room.

   "Is she all right?" asked Erica anxiously, forgetting Will and
everything else.  "Where is she?"

   "The baby is fine," said the doctor.  "Though there is one tiny
problem."

   "What?" asked Erica, trying to sit up.

   "SHE has something between her legs that girls aren't supposed to have,"
said the doctor, grinning.  "You've had a fine, healthy baby boy."

   "A boy?" Erica's voice quavered.  "She can't be a boy."

   "Well, like most men, this one already isn't listening to his mother,"
said the doctor, taking a bundle from a nurse and setting it gently on
Erica's breasts.  "Now, you take a look at him, but I need you to push a
little more, so we can get rid of that pesky placenta, OK?"

   Erica unwrapped her baby, and stared into a face that that was round and
pale under a pile of still wet black hair.  Her fingers went to a hand and
lifted it.  She stared in awe at the perfectly formed tiny fingers.  She
placed one fingertip in the palm of that miniature hand and those fingers
gripped her with surprising strength.  The face twisted and the mouth
opened.  A noise came out that sounded like nothing she had ever heard in
her life.  It was a yearning noise.

   "Push now, please," ordered the doctor.

   She did, not thinking about it, while she uncovered the rest of the
baby.

   "Well, look at that," said Will.

   She stared at the tiny penis that stuck straight out from the baby's
groin.  Her fingers went to feel it, because she still couldn't believe
she'd had a boy.  She'd KNOWN it was a girl ...  FELT it was a girl.  She
hadn't even looked at any boy's names.  She'd already chosen the name. 
Rowena Patricia was what she had planned on naming her daughter.

   Her son's arms moved convulsively and his mouth opened again, making
more noise.

   "What does he want?" she asked.

   "He's a man," said a nurse.  "He wants to suck." Several others in the
room looked at her and she blushed.  "Well it's true!" she said.

   From Erica's perspective, all these people had seen her most intimate
parts.  Letting them see a breast wasn't any worse.  "Help me," she said to
Will, lifting the baby.

   It took more than the one hand Will had, but the same nurse who had
spoken helped too, and one of Erica's breasts was exposed.  The bed was
already tilted up, and it was amazingly easy to cradle the newborn in one
arm and put the fat nipple in its mouth.  It clamped on instantly and
sucked.

   Bobby's constant sucking before the birth had advanced her ability to
produce milk.  She had dripped a clear substance she knew was called
colostrum, as a result of his sucking.  She wasn't in full production yet,
but along with the normal colostrum, there was a mixture of milk too.  The
sensations in her nipple were completely different than anything she'd ever
felt and, as the baby in her arms settled into a rhythmic sucking, she
relaxed completely for the first time since coming to the hospital.

   "I'll go tell the others," said Will.  He walked out of the room, his
limp hardly showing.

   "Tell them not to leave," said Erica.  "I want to see them."

   "As soon as we get you to a room," said the nurse.

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

   Erica held her baby, who had finished sucking and was sleeping.  She had
explored his tiny body, in awe of his perfection.  She hadn't thought of
adoption for months, but even if she had come to the hospital planning on
giving this baby up, she would have been unable to do so after feeding him
just that first time.

   Jake's chair had been pushed close to the bed.  Will was standing back,
to make room for Bobby and Tilly.

   Tilly looked at the baby and then up at Bobby.  He winked and his lips
almost smiled.  Then his finger came up to his lips, in the universal sign
of "be silent." He covered that by coughing into his hand.

   "He's so beautiful," sighed Erica.

   "Boys are handsome, not beautiful," said Jake.

   "This one was supposed to be a girl!" said Erica, looking straight at
Bobby.  Then she looked back at her baby.  "But I don't care.  He's
beautiful and I love him."

   What's his name?" asked Jake.

   "I don't know," said Erica.  "I never thought it would be a boy.  I was
going to call her Rowena Patricia."

   "Owen Patrick," said Tilly softly.

   Erica's eyes opened wide.  "That's perfect!" she said.

   "Owen means 'young fighter'," said Jake suddenly.

   Erica looked at him curiously.  "How do you know that?" she asked.

   "It's my middle name," said Jake.

   Erica looked at the sleeping little boy in her arms.  "Owen Patrick
Bradford.  You'll be my young fighter, showing the world what a real man
... a good man can be like.  You'll grow up to battle injustice and fight
for women's rights."

   "How about we get him out of diapers before we send him off to do
battle," said Bobby, grinning.

   Erica looked up at him.  Her eyes narrowed.

   "A boy!" she said, sounding disgruntled.  "I should have known!"

   Tilly had to turn away to hide her smile.

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

   Agatha sat at her desk, her eyes going down the list of numbers in the
column she was looking at.  She double checked everything and felt proud as
she saw it was all perfect.

   She leaned back in her chair and looked down at the bulge under the
pullover she was wearing.  Her hands came to rest on it.  She kept
expecting to feel a heartbeat, or some movement or something.  She got up
to get more water.  She'd given up coffee and tea and had been surprised at
how calm she felt since.

   Michelle stuck her head in the office door.

   "Lunch is about ready.  You done?"

   "Done!" said Agatha.  "For now, anyway."

   "Well come and get it," said her brother's wife.

   She got up.  Being pregnant wasn't an imposition on her at all, thus
far. As she went to eat she wished her house would sell, so she could get
her own place.  George and Michelle had been so wonderful to her and she
didn't mind living with them, but she didn't want to be a burden either. 
They hadn't asked her anything about the growing evidence that she was
pregnant.  She wondered why, but then decided that they just accepted her
as she was.

   That made her think about Granger too ...  and Bobby.

   As she sat down she frowned, thinking again whether she'd done the right
thing.  She hadn't told Bobby about the baby and she couldn't help but
wonder if that was depriving him of information he might want.  Even though
she was carrying the man's child, she felt like she didn't really know him
that well.  He might want to marry her if he knew and she was quite
positive that she didn't want to be married to Bobby Dalton.  It wasn't
him, exactly.  She just didn't want to be married again.  It was just like
that girl had said, in the play she had gone to at the high school.  It had
been so romantic, that disappearing village.  And she’d understood
completely when the girl had said she'd think about marriage when some man
made her think about marriage.  Now that she knew what a relationship COULD
be like, she'd never go back to what she and Harry had had.

   George came in and washed his hands at the sink.

   Then they had lunch and she got wrapped up in telling him about the
mistake his last bookkeeper had made that had made it so difficult to
balance the bank statement for the last six months.

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

   Paula sat down at the table.  Her mouth was watering.  The food here was
so good, she always looked forward to it.  Initially she had felt a little
bad about being invited to all the meals, instead of just breakfast.  She
had no car and nowhere to go anyway.  She read a little and worked on a
jigsaw puzzle that had been lying, barely started, on a table in the living
room.

   Bobby had returned from some mysterious errand, while Paula slept.  His
attitude toward her was so casual and normal that it astonished her.  At
lunch, he asked her if she wanted to learn how to finish sheet rock.

   She hadn't even known what sheet rock was, until that day.  She'd never
paid any attention to the walls that always surrounded her.  She was
surprised when her almost finished art degree helped her visualize what the
finished wall would look like.  She also learned she was a perfectionist,
and spent much more time on a seam than Bobby ever would.

   She also knew supper was a time when almost anything might be discussed.
It was always interesting and so much better than sitting silently, being
told not to clink the silverware against the plate, or your teeth, because
it suggested bad breeding.

   "You haven’t told us about college," said Matilda, who was sitting
across from her.  "Where do you go to school?"

   "I'm at Kansas State," said Paula.

   "Really!" said the twins at the same time, in the same tone of voice. 
They did that a lot and Paula thought it was cute.  Betty seemed to get the
floor, somehow.  "Our sister goes to K-State!  She's going to be a doctor.
Maybe you know her."

   Paula smiled.  "I doubt it.  There are thirty thousand students there.
I'm studying art.  I don't think we'd have to share very many classes or
anything."

   "Oh." Betty sounded almost dejected.  Then she perked up.  "Tell us
about art."

   That got her talking.  It surprised her how much she had to say,
suddenly.  More of their questions kept her going.  It was the first time
she felt like she had actually learned something in college.

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

   After supper the twins had pulled out a stack of records and started
playing them.  They danced with their babies, laughing and whirling.  Bobby
danced with his mother and Paula saw immediately why he was such a good
dancer.  He practiced at home.

   Mirriam went off to do something and Bobby asked Paula if she wanted to
dance.

   "No champagne, tonight," he said, grinning.

   "Good," she said.

   They danced for an hour.  Sometimes Bobby danced with his sisters too,
and whenever that happened the odd sister simply danced with Paula.  It
didn't seem to matter to them who they danced with.  It was just dancing.

   It was when the twins started putting on slower songs that Paula began
to see things that were puzzling.  The twins still danced with him ...  and
they danced close.  Sometimes it almost looked as if they were rubbing up
against him ...  teasing him ...  just like Paula had teased him on New
Year's Eve.

   When he asked her to dance too, she pressed against him, like she had
before.

   "I like dancing with you better when you're not drunk," he said into her
hair.

   "I'm really sorry about that," she said, her face pressed to his
shoulder.  He smelled good, somehow.

   "No harm done," he said.

   "Thank you for being a gentleman too," she said.

   "Who said I was a gentleman?" he asked.  He gave her a little squeeze
for some reason.

   "You could have done anything you wanted with me," she said.

   "I thought about it."

   She pushed back and looked at his face.  He was smiling.

   "But you didn't," she said.

   "Turned out to be a good thing." He wasn't smiling any more.  "Can I ask
you a question?"

   "Sure," she said, laying her head back on his shoulder.

   "Do you dance like this on purpose?"

   "Like what?" she asked.

   "Pressed up against me," he said.  She was almost shocked to feel his
hips give her a little bump.  She felt pressure right where the legs of the
jeans she was wearing came together.

   "It's just flirting," she said.

   "You like to flirt, huh?"

   "Yes.  It's fun."

   "OK," he said.

   The song ended then and Betty claimed him for the next dance.  She
watched them turn in slow circles.  She would have sworn that Betty rubbed
her breasts against his chest.  They turned and she looked at his
fingertips, just barely onto Betty's butt.

   Another hour later, Paula decided she liked dancing with Bobby Dalton.
She liked it a lot.  It wasn't anything he said.  It was more the feel of
him.  She rubbed herself against him and he rubbed back, just a little.  It
wasn't threatening and it was a LOT of fun.  She knew she'd have to
masturbate when she went to bed tonight.

   And, since she was no longer welcome at home, she wouldn't have to feel
guilty about it anymore.

   Chapter Fourteen



   The next day Paula spent all morning with Bobby.  She was distracted,
because, as she had masturbated the night before, all she could think about
was that Bobby had seen her naked, right there in that room.  He had put
her in the same bed she was lying in.  He'd said he thought about ... 
things.  Had he stood, staring at her naked body?  Had he wanted to touch
her?  HAD he touched her?  Maybe just a little?

   She kept thinking about that as she mudded the corners in the room they
were working on.  He had her do the corners because he said she was better
at it than he was.  When they were done she asked what was next.

   "Nothing," he said.  "We're out of money.  I had the sheetrock mud, so
we could do that, but paint and the rest of the electrical and plumbing
will have to wait."

   "That's too bad," said Paula.  "This is going to be a neat place to
live."

   "Maybe not," he said.  "My sisters will be living out here with me, you
know."

   "You love them," she said.  "I can see that.  You guys get along a lot
better than my sister and I do." She blinked.  "Did." That made her think
about what had caused the split.  "Bobby, can I ask you a question?"

   "Uh huh."

   "New Year's Eve.  You said you thought about me ...  when I was naked."

   "Not really," he said.

   "What do you mean?"

   "You were passed out, you smelled bad, and I was upset," he said.  "It's
kind of hard to be horny when those are the circumstances."

   "Oh." He had burst her bubble.  She'd been pretending that he'd stood
over her, wanting her, but just been too much of a gentleman to take
advantage of her.  Her dejection must have been communicated in her voice,
because he spoke.

   "Don't get me wrong," he said.  "You're a beautiful young woman.  I
noticed that.  If it had been under different circumstances, you might have
been in real trouble."

   She felt better immediately.  Something, she couldn't tell what, urged
her to say more.

   "There was a point where I almost wished you HAD raped me."

   "Don't even joke about that," he said.

   "I wasn't joking," she said, looking at him.

   "You want to explain that?" he asked.

   "It's just that I'm scared to death of sex.  If you'd done that while I
was unconscious, it would be over, and I wouldn't have to be afraid
anymore."

   "That's the stupidest thing I think I ever heard," he said.

   "Why?" she asked.

   "Because the real joy of sex is experiencing it.  And whatever makes you
afraid of it won't go away just because it happened while you were passed
out."

   "I like the first part," she said.  "You know, the flirting, like when
we danced." She frowned.  "It's just that going all the way part that makes
me scared."

   "I think you'll be fine when you meet the right guy," said Bobby. 
"Things like being scared have a way of taking care of themselves, when
you're really excited."

   "That's easy for a guy to say," she said.  "All you have to do is shove
it in."

   "You're just full of stupid remarks today," said Bobby.  He grinned to
take the sting out of it.  "Making love to a woman is hard work.  You have
to pay attention to her and make sure she gets to where SHE needs to go,
before you take care of yourself.  It's all about making HER happy.  Then,
when you know she's happy, it's OK to be happy about it yourself."

   "I don't think other men are like that," said Paula.  "Every time I've
gotten close, the guy was saying he was dying and begging.  It never
sounded much like he cared how I felt.  One of them even lied to me.  I
told him I was scared, and he said it wouldn't hurt.  I know it hurts. 
Every girl I ever talked to about it said it hurt the first time."

   "How many girls have you talked to about that?" asked Bobby .

   "I don't know ...  four or five maybe.  It doesn't exactly come up in
casual conversation, you know."

   "It doesn't have to hurt," said Bobby.  "At least in my experience, you
can make it hurt as little as possible."

   "How many girls have you ...  done it with?" she asked.

   "You don't want to know," he said.

   "Yes I do."

   "No, you don't," he said firmly.

   "What are you ...  some kind of stud?" She laughed.



   He only smiled.  "Trust me, with the right guy, you'll have a good time.
Why are you in a hurry anyway?"

   "I'm not in a hurry," she said.  "It's just that when you don't do that
with a guy, they lose interest."

   "That's not true either," said Bobby.  "I have a friend.  She's one of
my best friends and we've never done it."

   "But she's not your GIRLfriend," said Paula.

   "I guess not," said Bobby.  He frowned then.

   "Do you WANT to do it with her?" asked Paula.

   "Yes." His answer was immediate.  "But it wouldn't work.  She got hurt,
really bad, and she's not ready for that.  I get the feeling she's not
interested in me that way anyway."

   "You should ask her," said Paula.

   "That's silly," he said, smiling.

   "No it's not!"

   "What am I supposed to say?" asked Bobby.  "Hey, Connie, I've got the
hots for you and I want to boff you all day long.  How ‘bout it?"

   Paula laughed.  "No ...  not like that, of course.  But a girl knows
what she wants to do ...  and not do.  Men just never ask."

   "How about you?" he asked, on impulse.  "What would you do ...  and not
do ...  with me?"

   Paula's eyes opened wide.  She felt blood suffuse her cheeks.

   "You already know I like to rub up against you when we dance," she said,
evasively.

   "Come on," he taunted.  "You're the one who suggested this.  Is that all
you want to do with me?"

   She was quiet for several heartbeats and he thought he might have pushed
her too far.

   "Maybe not." Her voice was not very loud.  She watched him, suddenly
fearful again.  She wasn't sure what was making her fearful, but it clamped
down on her stomach.

   "Interesting," he said.  "You know you didn't actually answer the
question."

   She blinked.  He went on.

   "Isn't it interesting that you told me what to do, but it turned out you
couldn't do it yourself?  I think you just proved me right.  I don't think
asking a woman what she wants is going to work."

   "I just wasn't ready!" she yelped.  "It's not fair to just spring that
on a girl when you hardly know her."

   "I've spent as much or more time with you than I spent with the first
couple of women I made love to," he said.  He thought back to Tilly, and
Martha, and even Sherry.  All of those relationships had blossomed in less
than a day or two.

   "This is weird," she said.

   "It was your idea," he reminded her.

   "OK, OK, give me a minute."

   He did and she immediately wished he'd kept talking.  She looked at him.
He was handsome.  She'd been very pleased when she first saw him.  He was
older by more years than any other man she'd spent time with.  That had
attracted her too.  She'd felt more grown up, in the arms of an older man.
Then she'd ruined it by getting drunk.  She wondered if he would have made
a move on her if she hadn't gotten wasted.

   "Are you attracted to me?" she asked suddenly.

   "I'd have to say yes," he answered.  "When you're not drunk," he added.

   "If I hadn't gotten drunk that night ...  would you have tried something
with me?"

   "Hard to say," he mused.  "You got me going with the way you danced with
me.  I thought you were very forward.  I was worried something might
happen."

   "Worried?"

   "I was doing a favor for a friend of a friend," he said.  "That's not
exactly the right situation to try getting a girl naked in."

   "You did get me naked," she said.

   "That was different," he countered.  "I wasn't going to ruin our sheets
by leaving your stinky clothes on."

   "Did you look at me?"

   "Of course."

   She went silent for another dozen heartbeats.

   "If I was dating you, I'd want to kiss you.  I wouldn't mind if you
touched me ...  a little."

   Bobby snorted.  "And I'm supposed to figure out how little to touch
you?"

   "I'd let you know."

   "I thought the whole purpose of all this was so that we'd both know what
was going to happen and not happen," he pointed out.

   "OK, you can't fuck me!" she snapped.  "There!"

   "I could live with that," he said calmly.

   "You could?" She was shocked.

   "For a while anyway," he said.  "I'm pretty sure you'd change your mind,
once we got to know each other better."

   "Why?" she asked.

   "I've done this before," he said.

   "Were they virgins?"

   "Some of them.  Maybe half."

   "It sounds like you've done this a lot!" she said breathlessly.

   "I told you not to ask," he reminded her.

   "But you would be willing to kiss me and touch me, and that's all?"

   "Of course," he said.  "If that's all you needed, that's all I'd do."

   "But what about ...  your needs?  Some of those guys tried to tell me
they were in pain."

   "I know how to masturbate," he said calmly.

   "Wow," she said.  No man had ever talked with her this openly before.

   "Now, if we're all done talking about what we both could do and not do,
I have some jobs to go take care of."

   "Sure," she said.  Her mind was whirling.

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

   The next morning, Bobby said he had something to do and left right after
breakfast.  He drove to Erica's and went in.  She met him in the living
room and took him to the crib.  Owen was lying there, moving around, his
eyes shifting around as if he were trying to look at things.

   "You make good babies," she said, holding his hand.

   "Even if he's a boy?" Bobby smiled.

   "Even if he's a boy," she said.  She put her arms around him.  "Want to
watch me feed him?"

   "I'd love to," he said.

   She unbuttoned her shirt and flipped open the flap of her nursing bra to
expose the nipple.  She picked Owen up and put his lips to the nipple.  He
started sucking and she shuddered.

   "It feels so strange when the milk lets down," said Erica.  "It's almost
painful at first.”

   "I know," he said.

   "How do you know?" she asked.

   "I have two breastfeeding sisters," he caged.

   "I make way too much milk for him," said Erica.

   "I can help with that," said Bobby.

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

   Paula asked to use the phone, after lunch, and called the girl who she'd
ridden with to Granger that was going to pick her up on the sixth and take
her back to school.  She explained where she was now staying and gave
directions to the B&B.  Her friend thought she'd be there around noon,
if the weather held.

   She spent a lot of time thinking that afternoon.  The twins were gone to
work and Mirriam was doing various chores around the house.  She thought
about her conversation with Bobby, that morning.  She thought about the
things he'd said ...  that it didn't have to hurt ...  if it was done
right. He'd asked her why she was in a hurry.  She wondered about that
herself and pondered it for a while.  She was convinced that if she wasn't
scared of sex, she would be able to find a boyfriend and see if they could
make something work for longer than a month.  Then she thought about what
she had told Bobby she might accept from him ...  if they were dating.  She
HAD been on one date with him ...  sort of.  She'd screwed that up.  She
wondered if he'd take her out again, before she left, if she asked him to.

   Supper was the usual gabfest.  Bobby talked about some of the things
he'd done that day, and the twins told stories about the kids they'd taken
care of.  Paula didn't have much to contribute, until Bobby mentioned that
she was better at finishing corners than he was.  She expected the other
women to be amazed, but they weren't.  It was as if they expected her to be
good at something and had just heard what it was.

   "I should have taken you with me this afternoon," said Bobby.  "I could
have used you a couple of times."

   "Bobby!" scolded his mother.  "She's a guest."

   "I wouldn't mind!" said Paula.  "I was bored anyway.  And you HAVE fed
me all these extra meals."

   "You want to go with me tomorrow?" asked Bobby.

   Paula said "Sure!" at exactly the same time Mirriam said "Bobby!" again.


   That night Paula asked if they could dance again.  Bobby looked at her
so intently that she felt hot.  Again they danced fast first, gyrating
until they were all hot and sweaty.  Then the slow songs started.  Mirriam
had been sitting for a while and hopped up to claim Bobby first.  Paula's
eyes opened a little wider as Mirriam put her arms around Bobby's neck and
he put his hands on her back, almost exactly like he did with his sisters.
She watched intently, because it looked like when his back was to her, his
hands seemed to move lower.  It was that way with his sisters too, but none
of them ever made a fuss about it.

   Then it was her turn and she melted against him as he treated her
exactly the same way.  His hands smoothed down onto her butt and he
squeezed gently.

   "You said I could," he whispered into her hair.

   For every way in which she teased him, he reciprocated, stroking her
butt, back, and even the sides of her breasts.  It got late, and the twins
fed their babies, sitting on the couch, then went to bed.  Mirriam and
Paula traded off with Bobby a while longer, then Mirriam said she was going
to bed.  She looked at Bobby and said "Behave."

   "Do you want to keep dancing?" he asked.  "We can if we turn the music
down low."

   "OK," said Paula.  When they were dancing again, Paula asked "What was
that about?  What your mother said."

   "She was warning me not to seduce you," he said.

   "She thinks you might?"

   "She knows me pretty well." He stroked her back.  "She knows about all
the women."

   "How odd," said Paula.  "I can't imagine my parents knowing about all
the men I've gone out with.  Not if they had seduced me."

   "It's complicated," said Bobby.  "A couple of them were her friends."

   Paula stopped.  "You seduced her friends?!"

   "I shouldn't have told you that," he said.  "Don't worry.  You're safe."


   They started dancing again.

   "What if I don't want to be safe?" she asked into his chest.

   "Then you're not safe anymore," he said.  His hands went to her butt and
squeezed, pulling her against what was clearly an erection.  She felt weak,
but got over it quickly.

   She knew that if she turned her face up to him, he'd kiss her.  While
she was deciding whether or not to do that, she just instinctively looked
up.

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

   He was a good kisser, Paula knew immediately.  She'd kissed a lot of
boys, both in high school when it was strictly forbidden, and in college,
where she was free to do it as much as she wanted.  She loved kissing.  It
made her feel so good inside.  She would be happy to kiss for hours, but
the men she dated in college always wanted to touch her, instead of just
kissing her.

   Like Bobby was doing now, she thought dreamily, feeling his hand on her
breast.  But he was kissing her so wonderfully, she didn't mind his hand
there; squeezing, molding.  The music was still playing, but they were just
standing there now, kissing.  He was so gentle.  Both his hands and his
lips seemed to caress her.  She pushed her loins forward and felt the bulge
she knew she was responsible for.

   She trusted him, somehow.  He had been so open that she believed he
would only do so much.  That let her enjoy the feeling of moving against
him.  It made her belly hot inside ...  all this kissing ...  and rubbing.

   He pulled back.

   "You should go to bed now," he said.

   "Why?" she asked.

   "Because I'm really turned on," he said.  "I want to honor my pledge."

   "I like this," she said, rubbing against him some more.

   "I do too," he said, smiling.  "I'd like to see you naked again right
now."

   She felt the thrill of fear shoot through her and then relaxed.  He'd
just said it right out loud.

   "You want to watch me change into my night clothes?" she asked.

   "What do you wear to bed?"

   "A T shirt," she said.

   "No panties?" His eyes gleamed.

   "Sometimes," she said.

   "Tonight?" he asked.

   "Are you going to masturbate?" she asked, emboldened by his honesty.

   "Something like that," he said, thinking of the twins.

   "Me too," she whispered.  "No panties tonight."

   "I'd like to watch you very much," he sighed.

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

   The fear came back, but only lasted until she bared her breasts to him.
She'd done this before, taking her top off for a boy to let him look and
touch.  She'd never gotten completely naked, though.  But he'd already seen
her that way ...  so it was all right.

   He didn't say anything.  He just stood and watched.  When she was naked,
she reached for the T shirt.  Then she turned to let him see her.

   "You look good," he said.  "I see why the men are impatient."

   "You want to do ...  that ...  to me?" she asked breathlessly.

   "Ohhhh yeah," he sighed.  His head jerked.  "But I won't."

   "I can't believe this," she murmured.

   "It's OK," he said.  "I need to go now."

   "All right."

   She stayed naked, as he went to the door, opened it and stepped outside.
The door closed softly.  She started to put the shirt on, but then paused.
Tossing it aside, she got into bed naked.

   Then she rubbed.

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

   The twins were asleep, but that didn't matter.  He joined Matilda first,
waking her by sucking at her nipple.  He got milk almost immediately and
she woke up whining at the initial pain of her milk letting down.

   "I knew you'd come," she sighed, scooting over so he could join her. 
"She makes you horny."

   "So do you," he whispered, climbing on top of her.

   He didn't hear Betty making "awake sounds," so he spurted in Matilda.

   Then he climbed in with Betty, who was awake after all.  She wanted to
cuddle and told him to leave her breasts alone until Veronica woke her to
feed.  She knew from the sounds he'd made that he'd spurted.  She also knew
that he'd be ready to go again when she had to get up with her daughter.

   Chapter Fifteen



   At breakfast Mirriam voiced doubts about the intelligence of being seen
with a girl he'd been accused of raping.  Millie had talked around,
spreading rumors.  Most people knew Clancy well enough to accept that if he
said something was unfounded, it was probably unfounded.  Still, she'd
heard talk.

   "The way I figure it," said Bobby, who had also gotten some looks while
he was out and about, "if people see her with me and we're working
together, that will take the air out of Millie's sails."

   "I suppose you're right," said his mother.

   "Bring a book," said Bobby, looking at Paula.  "There will be some
things you won't be helping me with."

   She learned about faucet repair that day.  She learned about the
different kinds of paint and what each was used for.  She learned how to
replace a fuse, and the difference between the old style glass fuses that
screwed into a socket, like a light bulb, and the newer style circuit
breaker.  She helped him refasten a rain gutter that had sagged under the
weight of ice and come loose from the house.

   He took her to the Wagon Wheel, where half the people whispered about
them and the other half came over to meet her.

   In the afternoon, she helped him split and stack firewood for an old
woman who heated her house with a huge old potbellied stove, and who gave
them cookies he suggested she might not want to eat.

   Then they were done.

   "But it's only two thirty," she said.

   "That's all the jobs I have to do," he replied.

   "What do we do now?" she asked.

   "I have something in mind," he said.

   He parked behind some trees at a state park and they made out like
teenagers.  She got all the kissing she wanted that afternoon and let him
slide his hand into her pants, to give her orgasms that she couldn't
believe.  They were so different than the ones she produced with her own
fingers.  She thought, initially, that it was because he sucked her nipples
so deliciously, while his finger moved in her and back and forth outside of
her.  But then he did it again while kissing her.  In the end she decided
she didn't care and just enjoyed the third one.

   He asked her to touch him too.  That was something she'd drawn the line
at, before this.  He explained that if she learned how to do this well, it
could extend the time with a man before he was crazy to fuck her.

   "But then they'll want me to put my mouth on it too," she said.

   "True," he admitted.  "I could teach you that too, but I don't think we
have enough time left before you go."

   "Why does it take time?" she asked.

   "Because, based on the way you said that, you don't want to do that, and
you SHOULD want to before you try it," he said.  "You should want to do
everything, before you try it."

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

   She wasn't keen on putting her mouth on him, but she wanted to see him
...  that lump that she'd felt pressed against her.  That was why she
agreed to touch him.  It was completely different than she thought it would
be.  He was warm and his penis felt soft in her hand, even though it was
very hard underneath.  He coached her, and she found out it was hard work
at the end.  The beginning was fun.  She could stroke it slowly all day
long, she decided.  But then he needed her to speed up and her muscles
began to ache.  She was about to give up, when he gasped for her to go on
just a few more seconds.

   She was shocked at the mess.  She didn't object to it getting on her
hand, really, because it was warm.  But there was so much of it!  He had a
rag that he had gotten from under the seat, and they used that to clean the
blobs and stripes of his semen off of both of them.

   She thought about it all as he drove them home.  She realized he was
right.  She had enjoyed those new things, because she had wanted to see
what they were like.  She'd felt safe and capable of exploring without
things getting out of hand.  She looked over at him.  It was really too bad
he wasn't going to college.  If he was, she had a feeling her virginity
wouldn't last very much longer.

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

   This time, at supper, it was Paula who did the majority of the talking
as she described their day.  It was her opinion that it had been a very
good idea for her to be seen with Bobby, and for people to have met her.

   They watched television that night, just relaxing.  Everyone went to bed
at the same time, after the news.

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

   Paula lay in bed, naked again, and prepared to try some of the things
that he had done that were different than what she usually did.  She wished
there had been a chance for him to see her naked again.  She was just on
the verge of an orgasm when the door silently opened and he stepped in.

   She was under the covers, so she kept going, her hand making the covers
move erratically.  He stood and watched.

   "Can I help?" he whispered.

   She was so close!  But he was here now, so she slowed.  He would make
her feel like she had earlier in the day and that was better.

   She threw the covers back, getting her wish for him to see her naked. 
He was still dressed.

   He bent over the bed and replaced her fingers with his, as he kissed
her. It only took him a minute and she was rigid, unable even to loosen her
lips to keep kissing him, as pleasure racked her body.

   His hand stopped, his finger still inside her, as he moved to go from
one nipple to the other, back and forth, until she was ready for his finger
to move again.

   She'd had three orgasms within ten minutes of him coming into the room
and she was limp and panting from the results.  He was still kissing her,
but they were short, nipping kisses.  He stood up.

   "Can I masturbate in front of you?" he asked.

   She nodded, her eyes bright.

   He took his pants off and then his underwear.  She thought he'd stop
there, but he got completely naked for her.  She felt zings of excitement
running through her as another milestone was reached.  She was completely
naked with a completely naked man, for the first time.

   She watched, as he showed her what he had tried to teach her that
afternoon.  His hand started slowly, and she stared as the bulbous head was
uncovered and then hidden from sight again.  Soon he was moving so fast
that his hand seemed to blur.

   "Can I cum on you?" he gasped.

   She remembered the warm feel of his stuff on her hand.  She nodded.

   He moved to the edge of the bed, with his prick pointed at her belly
button.  She felt the urge to touch him and moved her fingers to his thigh.
As she traced her fingers along his skin, his penis spat a long string of
white.  She hissed as she felt it make a line of warmth across her belly.
His hand stopped for a split second and then moved again, and another wad
of semen burst from the tip.  That one landed on the carefully clipped
circle of hair just above where she loved to feel his finger.  The urge to
rub flashed through her whole body and she took her hand from his thigh to
slide it through the warm slippery stuff matting her hair.  She used the
slick fluid to rub all over her clit as more heat splattered onto her
abdomen.

   He leaned over, panting, and supported his upper body with a hand on the
bed beside her.  Then he abandoned his dripping penis and kissed her.  When
she felt his hand slide across her belly, rubbing her skin with his semen,
she groaned in anticipation.  He didn't disappoint her.  His hand pushed
hers aside and he slid a finger deep inside her.  Her hips bucked upwards
as his lips found hers and another orgasm thundered through her.

   When it was over he went to the bathroom in her room and came back with
a warm cloth.

   "I seem to spend a lot of time cleaning up your naked body," he
whispered, grinning.

   The wet from the cloth cooled quickly and she reached for the covers, to
pull them over her again.  She wished he'd kiss her some more.

   He didn't disappoint her then either.

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

   Things might have gone differently the next day, except for a confluence
of circumstances.  The twins went to work early.  Mirriam had a day planned
with Prudence, and Bobby had no jobs to do that day.

   That left Bobby and Paula alone ...  and with nothing to keep them busy.


   To boil it down to basics ...  he made her breakfast and then he made
her a woman.

   Of course, it didn't happen that quickly or neatly.  And, to be fair,
neither of them planned for it to happen at all.

   But Paula loved to kiss and now she had added some other loves, among
them the feel of his fingers in her pussy and hers on his penis.

   In relatively short order, that morning, two more loves were added.

   The first was the feel of his lips and tongue on her sex.  He didn't
tell her he was going to do that.  It just happened and, by the time she
realized what he was doing, she was already hooked.

   Like kissing, it was something she could enjoy all day long.  He licked
her through three orgasms, reared up to jack off and spray her belly with
his spunk, and then feasted again, giving her three more orgasms.  While he
did that, she massaged her breasts with his slippery issue, spreading it
all over her like lotion.  He didn't see her do it, but she tasted it as
well, driven by curiosity that couldn't be assuaged by anything else.  She
ended up licking her fingers clean, while her hips thrashed and the lovely
electric sensations ripped through her body again.

   They stopped long enough to clean up, get dressed, and eat lunch.

   Then they got undressed again because she wanted to dance with him,
naked.

   He put on music and she molded herself to him.  The feel of his hard
prick rising to settle against her pussy lips didn't bother her.  If
anything, she loved the feel of her legs clamping down on it and it moving.
They stood and kissed long, sucking kisses.  She was astonished when he
pulled back a little bit and she felt the warm rush of his sperm in her
crotch.  She pushed her upper body back, to look down, and watched his
messy cock emerge from between her legs and then slide back in, grazing her
pussy lips.

   "You make me so horny," he panted.

   They cleaned up again and she wondered what it would be like to lie in
bed with a naked man.  He showed her.  Kissing like this was the best,
because she could rub her naked breasts against him while they kissed and
then roll back to let his lips go down to suck at her nipples.  She could
have an orgasm from his fingers and then be held tightly in his strong
arms. She could reach for him and stroke him, and then reach to explore
below that, to the heavy sack that held all that lovely, white, slippery
stuff.

   It was while she was stroking him that she remembered the taste.  She
didn't actually analyze her feelings about it.  She just went with her
impulse to taste him again.  She also didn't tell him what she was going to
do as she kissed her way down his body, but he figured it out as she kissed
all over his rampant prick.  She skinned the hood back and kissed the head,
and then pulled the hood back to kiss the pooched skin.  She tasted with
her tongue, then let her lips spread enough to put them on the bare tip and
pull them off.  It all felt so good that it just seemed natural to push the
hood back and take the knob in her mouth.

   He didn't have to teach her to suck cock.  She was a natural.  And while
she did it, she practiced jacking him off.

   There was much more to taste than what had been on her fingers, and it
was there to taste without any more warning than his groan and the pulse of
the thing in her hand.  She was tired of having to stop and clean up, so
she just swallowed as much as she could.  What leaked out she sucked off of
him, until he was clean and limp.

   She hadn't minded kissing him after he used his mouth on her, so she
didn't even think he might object to kissing her after she'd tasted him.

   They cuddled and kissed.  It had been hours since either had spoken a
word.  She explored his nipples with her lips, wondering if it felt as good
to him as it did when he did it to her.  She was delighted when her
wandering hand eventually found him stiff again.  She didn't know how long
it had been since she had made him soft and she didn't care.

   No one was more surprised than Paula French when, as she stroked his
newly hard prick, she murmured: "I want this in me."

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

   Those five words were the last words spoken for another half hour.  He
took her at her word ...  and he took his time.

   He started immediately, moving over her and between legs she spread for
him of her own free will.  He rested the tip between her slippery pussy
lips and kissed her for ten minutes.  Her hips wiggled and he pressed until
they stopped, still kissing her.



   He was aware of her every movement and every sound she made.  She was
mindless, as she kissed him and waited for something to happen.  She wasn't
aware that her hips signaled him when it was time to move deeper.  She felt
the fire in her belly, the raw need to be filled, but his lips moving back
and forth in a triangle between each nipple and her own panting mouth, kept
her in anticipation of where they would be next.

   Eventually she felt the pressure of her body being spread apart, but
there was no pain.  There was only the endless wait for his lips to move to
the other nipple and then back to her mouth.  She sucked at his tongue,
trying to keep his lips there, only to release it as her nipples cried out
for more love.

   And every so often, her hips would twitch and his trembling muscles
would urge his prick a little deeper.

   The first time she actually concentrated enough to recognize that
something was in her, was twenty-nine minutes after the tip of his prick
kissed her pussy lips.  It happened when the head pushed past the stretched
lips and they clamped down onto the smaller shaft.

   She sucked in breath and arched her back to push the breast he was
sucking into his face.

   "It's in me," she whispered.

   Knowing that the worst was past, Bobby put his face over hers and pushed
slowly, gaining two inches at once.

   "Yes," he whispered and kissed her nose.

   "It doesn't hurt," she panted.

   "It's supposed to feel good," he said, smiling.  He pushed again.

   Her eyes bulged as he kept pushing until his pubes meshed with her tiny
circle of hair.

   "Ohhhh fuck," she moaned.  She felt stuffed, like she'd eaten too much.
But it didn't hurt.

   His eyes stared into hers, their gaze locked, as he slowly pulled out
and then sank back in.  He rocked forward, to make his signature circle.

   Paula French went absolutely, dazzlingly crazy.

   Her arms went around him and crushed with astonishing strength.  Her
legs wrapped around him with the same motion, as if she were trying to keep
him there forever.  As he crushed her clitty and she realized she had a
pussy full of hard male penis, her lungs gave up an agonizing groan and she
tried to hunch her pussy, to further impale it on the thing that felt so
incredible.

   He could barely move.  She was almost hanging from his body.  So he
rotated some more.  The orgasm she had made her feel like her body was
exploding, and her arms and legs both flew out from her torso as if they
were the expanding gasses produced by a detonation.

   Once he was free of constraint, Bobby knew to pound her.  He didn't know
how he knew that was the right thing, but that's what came to him, so
that's what he did.  His aching back muscles, held tense for so long as he
eased into her, had rested briefly while he mashed her clit.  They rose to
the challenge now and his hips rose and fell, slamming her into the bed
until she bounced under him.

   Paula felt like she was floating, somehow, on a sea of tall grass.  The
tips of that grass supported her and, instead of tickling, it stimulated
every point on her body.  She felt like she could lie limply, supported by
the grass, while something amazing happened in her belly.  She lay
completely limp, as if she'd passed out again, using all her concentration
to feel what was happening in her pussy.  She could feel her body moving,
almost jerking as she rose and fell deeper into the grass.  It felt like
her insides were being massaged, but better than that.  And each time he
drove into her, and she felt the tip press against something that hurt in
the most delicious way, her clitty gave out a little shriek of ecstasy as
it was smashed.

   She opened her eyes to look at his face and remembered the first time
she'd seen it.  She'd immediately thought of cowboys.  And now, that cowboy
was above her, rising and falling.

   "Ride me, cowboy," she gasped.

   She felt the orgasm coming, could almost see it like the wind making the
tall grass ripple out in the sea of vegetation she was floating on.  She
knew it would overwhelm her, so she took a deep breath and held it.  At the
same time her limp arms and legs jerked and she grabbed onto the only solid
thing she could find, because she knew that wind would tumble her body
along if she didn't.

   Her cry this time was loud and long, as her pussy clamped down on the
invader, only to relax and clamp down again.  She was sure she couldn't
survive this, but welcomed it anyway.

   Bobby felt her orgasm hit.  He had been thinking that it was absolutely
imperative that he not get this woman pregnant.  He had planned his
withdrawal, but couldn't resist waiting until the last second.  It was just
a second before that, though, that her limp body exploded into activity and
he was, once again, wrapped in an all-body bear hug.

   He tried.  His hips jerked backwards as the first streak of pleasure
shot soothingly through his prick.  He did, in fact, pull his penis almost
entirely out of her, leaving a thick line of white for her vaginal walls to
squeeze down on.  Where he made his mistake was in trying to rise up,
thinking that would aide him in pulling out.  Her arms tensed around his
neck and her body rose with his.  Her weight slammed her right back down on
his prod.

   The remaining four spurts of his rich seed were automatic.  He couldn't
have stopped them under any circumstances.

   Now, suddenly, she was the one in the saddle, and her weight ensured
they were delivered right into her spasming cervical mouth.

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

   Paula lay in Bobby's warm embrace and felt like she never wanted
anything to change.  This was perfection.  This was how men and women
should be able to spend all their time.  She felt his panting breath in her
hair, by her ear, but it was getting slower.  His face moved and she felt
his lips brush her hair.  She had never felt as loved and fulfilled as she
did at this second.

   "You OK?" came his almost whisper.

   "I'm perfect," she sighed.

   "That's good."

   "I liked that a lot," she whispered.

   "Me too."

   "I don't suppose you'd marry me," she said.

   His head moved back and his blue eyes looked into hers.

   "You really shouldn't say things like that unless you mean them," he
said.

   "I know," she sighed.  "I don't really want to get married right now. 
I'm sorry."

   "You don't really want to get pregnant right now either, do you?"

   Her eyes opened wide.  "No!" she gasped.

   "Well then, the next time I try to pull it out of you before I cum,
maybe you should let me."

   His comment caused a string of related thoughts to race around in
Paula's head.  At the head of that string was the concept of "next time,"
which she viewed with anticipation that made her nipples tingle. 
"Pregnant" was right behind, though, and that told her nipples to shut the
fuck up.  Then her mind thought to take stock of her body.  A lot had
happened in the last half hour, most of it brand new, and she expected to
feel the changes that just had to have been made in her body.

   She concentrated on her pussy, which just felt warm and good.  He'd
sucked at her nipples for hours, but they felt fine too.  With something
like awe, she realized that, all in all, she didn't feel that much
different, physically.  She wasn't even tired, really.  It was more like
she was so relaxed it was almost like being asleep.  Her mind bounced back
to "again."

   "When can we do that again?" she asked.

   "When do you want to do it again?" he asked, smiling.

   "Right now," she said promptly.

   "How about we rest for half an hour," he suggested.

   She settled for that, because he started kissing her again.  A half hour
of those kisses was the blink of an eye, it seemed.  Then he pushed her
onto her back and got to his knees.  She gaped at his prick.  It was the
same as before.  She just couldn't believe it had been inside her.  She
spread her legs unconsciously.

   She lifted her head to watch, as the tip kissed pussy lips that looked
wrong somehow.  They were much darker than they'd been before, with a
translucent, shiny coating of something milky white on them.  She watched
it push her pussy lips apart.  Feeling it going in and watching it happen
at the same time made her brain feel like it had split in half.  The
feeling part was more important, so she closed her eyes.

   She thought her favorite foods, for some reason.  This was even more
delicious.  It was also completely different than before.  She couldn't put
her finger on why that was, until she remembered that floating feeling. 
That wasn't there, this time.  She was in a bed and he was right above her.
Her hands went to his arms and she slid them up to his shoulders, feeling
his skin and the muscles under it.

   He also didn't bang against her when he went in.  He was moving more
slowly, like he was just stroking her insides.  She lifted her head again
and watched it come out of her.  It was coated with that shiny white stuff.
She realized that was his sperm.  He'd said he'd cum in her.  Her belly did
flip-flops as the importance of that hit her.  She was sure she wasn't
pregnant.  She didn't FEEL pregnant.  It was a little like stepping into
the street and being missed by a speeding car ...  by mere inches.  She was
still watching when he went in and stayed, to rotate.

   She flopped back down as her clitty hummed happily.  She suddenly didn't
care if she got pregnant, as long as she could have this.

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

   Bobby was more careful, this time, and clamped down on his own passion.
He watched her face instead of kissing her.  Her facial expressions flitted
from one to another as the feelings she was experiencing ramped up.  He
went so slowly that it took ten minutes before her eyes, mouth, and
breathing rate told him she was on the verge of an orgasm, and he went in
to rub at her to get her over the edge.  It was amazing watching her face
twist and hearing her whine, as her pussy fluttered around him.

   She wanted kisses then, so he gave them to her and paid some attention
to her nipples to get her over the edge again.  He had entered that state
that some men can experience where the real gratification isn't tied to the
feeling in his prick and balls, but is pinned to seeing the pleasure he is
creating in his partner.  When a man can slip into that mode, he can go for
a long time.

   Eventually, though, biology makes demands of a man who is in the process
of trying to keep the species going.  He managed to wait until she was
between orgasms and her legs were lying loosely spread.

   Then, again waiting until the last possible second, he pulled out.  His
prick rose, bobbing up, and a long stripe of white jetted from his penis,
to land from just below her breasts to that little circle of dark hair
above her clitty.  His prick sagged a quarter of an inch and the next two
spurts covered her pubic hair, as if it were a target.  His penis sagged
another half inch in the process and his last spurt landed neatly in the
gaping maw of her pussy mouth.

   He froze there, his arms locked, as her hands came up to massage his cum
into her skin.  Her breasts got shiny as her hands moved in circles over
them.

   "I love that," she panted.  "It feels so warm."

   Chapter Sixteen



   As the afternoon passed, Bobby began to wonder if he'd met his first
nymphomaniac.  The passions unleashed in her were of almost astonishing
proportions.  She was insatiable and he had to force her to let go of him
so they could clean up and be respectably dressed before his mother got
home.

   Paula's outlook, as she stood in the shower ...  alone ...  exemplified
the difficult and complicated social structure of young women in that
decade.  Women had more options than they had had when she was a little
girl.  Women like Erica Bradford had, indeed, moved women forward, in terms
of engineering more opportunities for freedom.  But with freedom comes
responsibility and social pressure.

   Paula had joined a sorority when she got to college.  Coming, as she
did, from a conservative and restrictive family, she had been amazed as she
was exposed to women her age who thought about things in an entirely
different manner than she was used to.  One of those things was sex.

   Peer pressure took the place of parental pressure.  But the values and
habits that result from one's upbringing can't just be tossed aside like an
old rag.  That's part of what made things complicated for her.  Many of her
older sorority sisters were sexually liberated and happy about that.  They
embraced the sexual freedom that the sexual revolution of the previous
decade had made available to them.

   But many girls, just like Paula, weren't quite ready to jump into the
sack with any handsome boy who bought them supper at a burger stand and
then took them to a movie.  At the same time, it wasn't "cool" to be a
virgin.  At least it wasn't cool to flaunt it.  As a result, there were
subtle informal attractions between girls who were more sexually repressed,
if that's the right term, than their carefree sisters.

   The "girls-who-didn't" became friends and spent time with each other
instead of in bed with a man.  In a small town, everyone would have known
they were the girls-who-didn't.  But at a large university, there were
always new men to meet and experiment with.  And, of course, there was that
pressure to be like their more sophisticated sisters, who sang the praises
of “getting laid.” So, while they formed their little secret
society of girls-who-didn't ...  or at least girls-who-hadn't-yet ...  they
tried to act like girls-who-did.  It was complicated and it meant they had
to learn the finer points of acting.

   What usually happened was something like this: The girls-who-didn't
would gather, to do homework, or listen to music, or go shopping.  They
dated, but didn't have steady boyfriends, so they had more time to spend
together.  Sex was a common topic, or rather the plan to eventually give up
and become a girl-who-did.  Eventually, one of them would give in. 
Initially, her testimony after the fact would rivet her friends and they
would inch ever closer, mentally, at least, to losing their own
virginities. Naturally, once a girl had a boyfriend, she spent more time
with him than her former secret sisters and dropped out of the secret
society.  Loyalty to her friends, though, almost always kept her from
teasing them or unmasking them.  It was a whirling dance of social
intricacies, and it was both exhilarating and stressful.

   Sometimes there were wild planning sessions, about how it could be done.
One girl said that one of her professors was making eyes at her and the
group came up with a scheme to manufacture a situation in which she could
allow herself to be seduced.  That plan was never actually carried out, but
it was fun to think about it.

   And so, as Paula stood in the shower, still amazed at how it had
happened to her, completely unplanned, she realized she was now a
girl-who-did.  She just naturally began to think about what she'd tell her
friends when she got back to school.

   She'd heard stories from other sorority sisters about how the deed had
been done.  She hadn't believed most of them, because it sounded too good
to be true.  She didn't feel that way anymore.

   She washed her pussy and immediately thought of Bobby, outside this
room, in the house somewhere.

   She washed until she had an orgasm.

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

   It was only Paula's polished social acting skills that prevented Mirriam
from taking one look at her and knowing that Bobby had been between her
legs.  At supper she acted slightly bored, paying no particular attention
to Bobby, and talked about how, the next day, she would return to school.

   "Thank you so much for letting me stay here," she said to Mirriam.  "You
were a lifesaver."

   "I just wish things weren't so strained between you and Millie," sighed
Mirriam.

   "You'd have to understand our family," said Paula.  "Everybody is
overprotective."

   Mirriam narrowed her eyes.  "If you were my daughter and got drunk with
some blind date, I would have worried about you too," she said.

   "Well, my blind date was with Bobby," said Paula, trying to steer the
subject away from her own behavior.  "I admit I was lucky.  I'm very glad
that date WAS with Bobby."

   It was the only thing she said that could have given her away, because
her voice took on a husky tone when she said the last sentence.

   But Mirriam was distracted by Theodore, who was asking for more green
beans.

   The rest of the evening was spent playing a board game called "Life,"
where Paula didn't get to go to college, had to accept a lower salary, got
married, ended up with a carload of little pegs that represented children,
and gambled it all when she got to the millionaire space.  She lost, but
didn't care.

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

   When they went to bed, she didn't get a chance to invite Bobby to her
room again.

   She waited a while, to see if he'd come and, when that didn't happen,
she solved the problem by putting on her T shirt and going to his room.  He
was lying in bed reading when she eased open the door.

   "You're insane," he said, looking up at her.

   "I'm horny," she corrected him.

   "It's too dangerous," he said.  "My sisters are here.  My mother too."

   "I'll be quiet," she said.  When he didn't look convinced, she tried
again.  "I'm leaving tomorrow.  Even if we get caught, how upset could they
be?" She took her T shirt off just to add more pressure.  She was very
gratified to see the look in his eyes as they surveyed her nude form.

   He pulled back the covers.  He was naked too.

   And hard.

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

   He let her lie on top of him for the required kisses.  They lasted a
long time, but she writhed more and more as that time went on, rubbing her
pussy on his thigh, and his balls, and his erect cock.  By the time ten
minutes had gone by, he was covered with a thin sheen of moisture from his
knees to his belly button.

   He taught her how to ride him.  She hadn't thought of that, but loved it
instantly, as soon as she was filled.  She sat straight up, loving how deep
he pushed into her that way.  He said "Ride me, cowgirl," and thumbed her
clit for her.  She had to bite her own hand to stay as quiet as she'd
promised to be.

   She had three orgasms, sitting bolt upright, before she found out what
it felt like to lean forward and torture her own clitty.  She was on the
verge of her second orgasm that way when he told her to get off, because he
was about to cum.  She leaned down, plastered her lips to his, and hunched
her hips faster to get herself over the edge.

   The feel of his hot fluid spurting in her just made it better.

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

   "You are insane," he whispered as she lay limply on top of him.  "Are
you on the pill?"

   "Of course not," she murmured.  "I didn't plan for this to happen."

   "What if you're pregnant?"

   "I'm not," she said softly.

   "I've heard that before," he said.

   She lifted her head.  His eyes were serious.

   "You've gotten a girl pregnant?" she asked.

   "Yes," he said.

   "But you're not married!" she squeaked.

   "She didn't want to marry me," said Bobby.

   Paula didn't want to talk about other women.  "Well, I'm not.  It's the
wrong time."

   "I've heard that before too," he said.

   It almost sounded as if he'd gotten more than one girl pregnant, but
Paula pushed that thought aside.  She didn't want to think about any other
women and she didn't want him to either.  It was still early, and she
wasn't done yet.

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

   He made her go back to her own room at four in the morning.  She
grumbled, because he woke her up to make her leave.  She'd had him three
times when she fell asleep on top of him.

   "One more time," she pouted.

   "You ARE crazy!" he whispered.

   "It's YOUR fault!" she whispered back.

   "I probably won't be able to get another boner for a week!" he moaned.

   "When I'm gone you won't need to," she said, assuming she was the only
girl he did this with, currently.  If he had a girlfriend, he wouldn't have
been asked to be her blind date.

   She got her wish, except that this time she wanted to be under him
again.

   "I'm going to pull out this time!" he hissed.

   "It's too messy!" she gasped, wrapping her legs around his hips.

   "Ohhhh Paulaaaaa," he groaned.

   She had to close off her pussy mouth with three fingers to keep from
leaking when she tiptoed back to her room.

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

   Bobby sighed as he waved to the receding car.  He was almost glad to see
Paula leave.  Not only did she tax his abilities, she seemed to completely
disregard the dangers of letting him spurt in her.  She had insisted that
she was at a safe time in her cycle, but he knew, from the way she had
behaved once she broke free, that even when she knew it WASN'T safe, she'd
want him.  In their last whispered conversation he'd made her promise she'd
get a prescription for the pill, as he loaded her suitcase into her
friend's car.

   She had responded with "I wish I could kiss you goodbye.  If you ever
come to Manhattan to see your sister, you can stay with me."

   "I thought you lived in the sorority house," he said.

   "I do, but I have my own bedroom," she said.  "Girls sneak guys in there
all the time."

   He shook his head.  He was thinking about how the whole family was
driving to Manhattan to see Suzie graduate.  She'd taken summer classes all
three years she'd been there and would be finishing her undergraduate
degree in May.  She had already been accepted to the University of Kansas
Medical School in Kansas City.  He didn't tell Paula that, though.  He'd be
with his mother and who knew how many of his sisters, and the last thing he
would need then was Paula hanging around, trying to get him alone and into
bed.

   The car turned onto the county road at the end of the driveway and a
cloud of dust began to boil from the back as it sped up.  He turned away.
He had things to do.  He needed to figure out a way to be able to finish
the barn.

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

   Paula looked over at Tracy, who was driving.  They were sorority sisters
and both lived in the sorority house.  Both were in the secret society. 
Paula had been busy giving directions on how to get out of town and to the
interstate that would take them to Manhattan.  Once they were sure they
were on the right road, there was time to talk.

   "So who's the dreamboat?" asked Tracy.

   "Bobby?" Paula's voice sounded smug.  She was chomping at the bit to
tell Tracy what had happened.

   "The one who put your suitcase in the trunk," said Tracy.

   "Oh," said Paula carelessly.  "He's just the guy who got my cherry."

   She'd said it as casually as she could and then watched her friend's
reaction.  That reaction was gratifying.

   "You're SHITTING me!" gasped Tracy.

   "No I am not," said Paula firmly.

   "You finally did it?" Tracy's voice sounded almost wistful.

   "I did it a lot," sighed Paula.  "He was incredible."

   There followed the interrogation that Tracy kept up for almost an hour
into the two and a half hour trip.  She wanted all the details and Paula
wasn't shy about divulging them.

   "Man!" sighed Tracy.  "He DOES sound incredible.”

   "He's worth paying money for," sighed Paula.

   "Maybe I could hire him to take care of me," giggled Tracy.  "I'm still
too scared.  My old boyfriend back home?  You know the one I told you
about? He took me out while I was there, and I wanted to, but I chickened
out." She sighed.  "It's better that way.  He would have told everybody
about it anyway, after I left."

   "Well Bobby has a sister at K-State," said Paula.  "I told him that if
he comes to see her, he can stay with me.  If he does, maybe I'll share him
with you." She grinned.

   "Like we could get away with sneaking a guy into the house," laughed
Tracy.

   "Roberta does it," said Paula.  "So does Megan."

   "I know," said Tracy.  "But I'd be too chicken to try that.  I have
another year left and I don't want to get kicked out of the house."

   Paula leaned back.  Just talking about what she and Bobby had done had
her pussy all itchy and damp.  "Yeah, but I'm telling you, Tracy, it might
be worth it to get kicked out, if I got a whole night with him."

   Tracy looked over at her friend.  "Girl, you are a slut!"

   "You would be too, if he did to you what he did to me," said Paula.  She
didn't sound one bit embarrassed.

   "Tell me again what it felt like in your mouth!" squealed Tracy.

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

   The man being discussed in such intimate detail was currently in the
hardware store, asking the owner, Steve Williams, if he needed any part
time help.

   "Nah," said Steve.  "But you might check at the lumber yard.  I heard
that Mike Galliston got hurt and Alvin is having to make deliveries
himself.” Alvin Jessup owned the lumber yard.

   Twenty minutes later Bobby had a job driving the lumber truck, making
deliveries and doing other odd jobs around the yard until Mike was
recovered from a fractured ankle.

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

   School had been back in session for a week before the secret society got
the chance to have a meeting.  Tracy had kept quiet, thus far, based on
Paula's desire to break the news herself.  They gathered this night in the
student union, around a table near the bowling alleys.  There was enough
noise from bowlers that they could have a discussion without people
overhearing them.

   The secret society was currently made up of six young women.  Besides
Paula and Tracy, there were Brandy and Crystal, both of whom lived in the
sorority house too, and Melanie and Tiffany, who lived together in a rental
house off campus.

   Melanie and Tiffany had known each other since getting to school, having
been roommates in the dorm the first year.  They wanted to get out of the
dorm and found a house to live in the next year.  They'd had to get a third
roommate to be able to afford it and had chosen another girl in the dorm
who wanted more peace and quiet in which to study.  Melanie and Tiffany had
joined sorority together too, that second year.  Their roommate wasn't
interested.  The sorority house was full, but that didn't matter because
the rental was so close to campus, and because it really was quiet.  Both
girls had gravitated to the secret society and had been members for two
years.

   One of the things about the secret society that appealed to all six
current members was that all of them understood the attitude of the others
as it regarded sex.  Brandy and Tiffany, like Paula, were afraid of losing
their virginities.  Brandy and Crystal both felt like it was better to find
the man they'd stay with and give it to him.  Melanie claimed she just
hadn't found the right man.  She argued that she didn't WANT to be a virgin
when she met her boyfriend, because if she liked a guy well enough to go
steady with him, she didn't want their first time to be awkward or painful.
She was the one who had claimed her professor was interested in her and
that it would be OK if HE broke her in for her as-yet-unfound boyfriend.

   That hadn't worked out.  When she had tried to flirt with the man, he
had firmly instructed her about professional standards.  That had pretty
well put the damper on plans to seduce faculty members, but while she was
on Christmas break, Melanie had come up with another plan.  She had already
talked about that with Tiffany, who was nominally on board.  Their roommate
thought they were both crazy, but Melanie was eager to talk about the plan
with the other members of the secret society.

   Thus there was the potential for competing interests at their first
meeting of 1977.

   Melanie tried to take the floor first.

   "Tiffany and I have a plan to lose our cherries!" she said, leaning
forward.  Tiffany didn't look quite as excited about it.

   Tracy stole the floor right out from under Melanie.

   "Well, Paula LOST her cherry on the break!"

   Melanie was outclassed immediately.  All the rest of the girls were just
as eager to hear the details as Tracy had been.  It being in a public
place, however, Paula was less inclined to be quite as graphic in her
description.

   "I met this guy.  My sister actually set me up with him for New Year's
Eve." She glossed over the getting drunk and puking part.  She also
stretched the truth.  "We kind of hit it off and we were making out." She
looked off into the distance.  "He was the best kisser," she sighed.  She
looked back at her eager audience.  "Anyway, I got so hot I had to let him.
It was awesome!"

   There were the usual questions about whether it hurt, and what it felt
like, and what he was like.  It was fifteen minutes before Melanie got to
lay out her new plan to become a girl-who-did.

   "OK," she said excitedly, when she had the floor back.  "We're going to
do a road trip, during spring break.  We'll go to Las Vegas and get a room.
Then we'll hire a gigolo to do the deed!" She looked around, anticipating
smiles and nods of agreement.  What she got was mostly blank stares.

   "That's CRAZY!" said Brandy.  "You're going to let some guy you don't
even know do that?"

   "Paula didn't know the guy who did her," said Melanie, defending her
plan.

   "I at least got to meet him," said Paula.  "We didn't do it the first
night.  I got to find out what kind of guy he was.  That was part of what
got me to do it!"

   "It's a good plan," moaned Melanie.  "It's quick and anonymous.  Whoever
we get won't be hanging around, wanting to do it again later.  Come ON!"

   "It sounds expensive," said Tracy.

   "Not if we all go in together," urged Melanie.  "If all six of us pitch
in, it shouldn't be all that bad."

   "I don't need to go," said Paula, smugly.  Melanie shot her a dark look.


   "Count me out," said Brandy.

   "Me too," said Crystal.  "I agree with Brandy.  It's crazy.  Besides, no
guy could take care of five of us in one night.  Not even a professional."

   "Paula's guy could," said Tracy.  Her voice sounded wistful.  "You guys
didn't hear the whole story.  She told me all about it in the car." She
looked at Paula, who was a little nervous now.  "You said he did you all
day long one day and four times in one night ...  right?"

   The chorus of squeals made several groups of bowlers look over at them.
One man stopped in the middle of his delivery and glared their way.

   "He really was incredible," Paula admitted.

   "Maybe you should hire HIM," giggled Brandy.  "At least he has a
reference." She laughed out loud.  They got more glares from the bowlers
nearby.

   Brandy stood up.  "We're bothering people.  I need to study anyway."

   Crystal went with her.  Tracy looked at her watch.  "I have to get going
too.  I've got to get ready for work."

   Melanie sat, dejected.  She'd actually been talking to a guy and he was
very interesting.  She felt like she NEEDED to get her troublesome
virginity out of the way, so she could approach this interesting guy with
some experience under her belt.  She looked over at Paula.

   "Do you think he might be willing to do that?" she asked.

   "Who?" asked Paula.

   "This guy you've been talking about.  Would he be willing to devirginize
some of us?"

   "I do not BELIEVE what you just asked me!" Paula was astonished.

   So Melanie told Paula about her new love interest.  She already knew
Melanie's philosophy about not being a virgin when you met the man of your
dreams.

   Paula's thoughts in the following few moments were a bit mercenary, to
be honest.  Several things flitted through her mind, chief among them that
if she could get Bobby to come to Manhattan, she could demand a night with
him, as payment ...  for her services.  Another thing she thought about was
that she had never believed most of the stories she'd heard and that some
of the girls here might not believe her either.  If they actually spent
time with Bobby, she would become the queen of the group.  They would all
owe her, once they had tasted his delights.  And lastly she remembered
that, while they had been working on the rooms in the barn, he had
mentioned that there wasn't enough money to finish the job.

   "How much would you be willing to pay?" she asked suddenly.

   Melanie's and Tiffany's eyes went round, but Melanie recovered quickly.

   "How much would it cost?"

   "It would probably be a lot cheaper than driving to Las Vegas, renting a
room and hiring a gigolo," said Paula.

   "There aren't as many of us," said Melanie.

   "Could you afford three hundred dollars?" asked Paula.  She had no idea
whether that was enough money to do what Bobby needed to do, but she was
pretty sure it was much cheaper than a trip to Vegas would be.

   Melanie looked at Tiffany, who looked scared, suddenly.  Then she looked
back at Paula.  "Would Tracy kick in?"

   "Maybe," said Paula.  "You'd have to ask her.  And I'd have to clear
that with him first, of course."

   "How about you?" asked Melanie.  "I mean, if he's all that good, like
you say, don't you want some more of him?"

   That wasn't what Paula had planned.  "I thought that if I could get him
to do this, I'd get some for free," she said.

   Melanie thought about this new idea.  It would undoubtedly be a lot
cheaper.  She'd wanted to see Vegas, but this way she could lose her cherry
in her own bed in her own house.  And it still had the same benefits as her
old plan.  The guy would come, devirginize them, and then go back home. 
There would be no hassles ...  no entanglements.  It would be quick and
convenient.  She looked back at Paula.

   "Call him and find out how much he'd have to have."

   Chapter Seventeen



   Paula would call Bobby, to try to hire him to relieve four more young
women of their virginity, but not for a while.  In the meantime, another
call was being made that would have a great impact on Bobby Dalton.  Betty
happened to be the one who answered the phone.

   "Hello?"

   "Is this the Dalton Bed and Breakfast?" asked a deep male voice.

   "Yes it is, can I help you?"

   "I might be interested in booking some rooms," said the man.  "But I
need more information first."

   "Just a minute," said Betty.  "I'll get the owner."

   She went and told her mother the phone was for her and what it was
about. Mirriam went to the phone.  They needed some business.  Thus far the
bed and breakfast was a losing proposition, based on the costs of
renovation.

   "This is Mirriam Dalton," she said into the phone.

   "Good evening, Mrs.  Dalton.  My name is Jeffrey Hamilton.  I'm a
professor of horticulture at Kansas State University."

   Mirriam listened as the man went on and her mouth dropped open.

   "FIVE rooms?" she asked.  "ALL summer long?"

   "That's correct," said the man.  "I'll have four grad students with me
and we need to be close to the research site.  I've got a grant to work
with.  What I'm trying to do is find the best possible accommodations that
will be the most comfortable and convenient.  If we stay at motels, we'll
be all spread out.  And then there are meals.  If you can accommodate us
with two meals per day ...  and the budget will take it ...  that would be
ideal."

   "Five rooms," she repeated.

   "Is that a problem?" came the voice.  "My contact at the county
extension office down there led me to believe this was a renovated two
story farmhouse with at least five bedrooms."

   "We have them," said Mirriam, a little weakly.  She didn't want to say
that her children lived in some of them.  "Some of them are currently
occupied."

   "I wouldn't mind if there were other guests staying there," said the
professor.  But we'd need five rooms for our entire stay, of course."

   "Of course," said Mirriam.  "I'll have to check the schedule.  Can I
call you back?"

   "Certainly," he said and gave her a phone number.

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

   "ALL summer long?" asked Bobby.  He was as astonished as his mother had
been.

   "They're doing some kind of research project about the tall grass
prairie," said Mirriam.

   "That would put us in the black for sure," said Bobby.

   "Yes!" yipped Mirriam.  "But we only have three rooms right now!"

   "Not if I finish the barn," said Bobby.

   "Can you do that by May?"

   "We might have to get a loan," said Bobby.  "I'm getting paid every
week, but I don't know how much longer they'll need me." He thought for a
moment.  "Can we get a deposit?  We ought to be able to get a deposit, to
cover us in case they cancel or something."

   "But if we get the money, you can finish the barn by May?" She sounded
anxious.

   "Yes," he said.

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

   "I'm very sorry," said Professor Hamilton.  "We won't actually get the
funds until sometime in May." It was quiet for a few seconds.  "How about
this?  I'll come down there for a site visit.  If it looks like everything
will work, I'll sign a contract.  That will at least guarantee you the
deposit you asked for.  The grant is approved.  It just takes time for all
the wheels to turn.  You'll get the deposit either way.  It just won't be
until sometime in May."

   It was shaky, but it was also too good a chance to pass up.

   "That would be fine," said Mirriam.

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

   Melanie faced her two roommates.

   "Don't you get it?" she asked, clearly agitated.  "This is perfect.  The
guy comes here, we all get laid and have a little fun, and he goes away,
never to be seen again.  We can go out on dates after that and not be
worried or nervous.  We'll KNOW what it's like."

   "I told you I was for it," whined Tiffany.  "It's still scary,
though.”

   "Why do you need me?" asked the third girl.  "I don't care what you guys
do.  Bring him here.  Fuck his brains out for all I care.  I just don't
think this is right for me."

   "Don't you like men?" asked an exasperated Melanie.

   "I'm curious.  And yes, I've thought about it.  I'm just not excited
about getting in bed with a stranger, that's all."

   "But Paula KNOWS him!" moaned Melanie.  "She says he's wonderful,
amazing, even.  She said he was gentle and took things at the speed she
wanted to go at.  We need you, Suzie, because we have to come up with money
to get him here."

   Suzie Dalton frowned.  She'd been saving as much of her pay from the
research center as possible.  They had said she'd be able to get a stipend
at med school, because they didn't really want the med students to have to
work.  But it still meant getting student loans and those would have to be
paid off sooner or later.

   Suzie's initial urge was to just tell Melanie to forget it.  But the
fact was that Suzie was more intimately acquainted with women who'd had sex
than these girls were.  Most, if not all, of her sisters had had sex and
she'd been in a position to see how it affected them.  That they'd had sex
with Bobby didn't matter that much, the way she thought of it.  It was
weird, but it was still sex.  And the fact of the matter was that all her
sisters that she KNEW had been fucked by Bobby were deliriously happy about
it.

   She'd thought a lot about that during the three years she'd been away
from home.  She'd worked hard, both in regular semesters and in summer
school.  Her grades were impeccable and she'd learned even more in the
research lab.  She knew it was because of her boss that she'd been accepted
at the KU Med Center.  She didn't know if he'd finagled something or if the
people there just respected his judgment, but that didn't matter.  She was
going to medical school and her dream would be realized then.

   There hadn't been much time for men.  She'd been tempted by a few and a
couple of the guys she worked with made her think about it a lot.  But they
had girlfriends and she'd seen nasty breakups that put a strain on the way
things worked in the lab.  She had thought it might be a better idea to
wait until she got to med school to explore men.  The men in her class
wouldn't be there unless they were as smart and dedicated as she was.

   But she had also been exposed for two years to Melanie's idiot idea that
a woman needed to have experience BEFORE she found the man she wanted to
sleep with all the time.  The problem was that over time, it didn't seem as
idiotic as it had in the past.  If she got to med school and met a man, it
wasn't hard to imagine that it would go much better if she knew what to do,
instead of fumbling around and being scared and nervous.

   She was quite sure she could go home and that Bobby would be happy to
take care of it.  That wasn't as bad an idea as she used to think it was
either, for that matter.  She knew he loved her.  He'd been giving her
money since she left.  He'd never asked for a thing in return, except that
she do a good job.  Scholarships from the Chumleys and the university,
along with her job and what Bobby sent her, were going to get her out of
undergrad school debt free, and she knew how important that was.

   nBut Bobby was home and she was here.  She had her job and she'd get a
bonus if she worked through spring break.

   "Tell you what," said Suzie.  "I'll take a look at the guy.  I'm not
making any promises, OK?  But I'll take a look." She thought about the
money again.  "How much is it going to cost?"

   "We don’t' know yet," said Melanie, clearly relieved. 
“Paula is supposed to call him and find out.”

   Suzie thought of Bobby again.  She was pretty sure that some of the
money he got came from women.  She thought she knew who some of those women
were.  They were nothing like these girls.  She'd never thought of Bobby as
a gigolo before, but tried to now.  It didn't work.  Whoever the guy was
that Paula French was so gaga about, he wouldn't be anything like Bobby.

   She was sure of that.

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

   Bobby had been holding Owen for half an hour while Erica did some
laundry.  She came to get him when she heard him fussing.

   "He eats like a horse," she said.

   "That's good," said Bobby.  "I can stay the night, tonight."

   "Oh?" Erica took Owen from him.

   "Will said he was staying at Christy's tonight, when I saw him earlier,"
Bobby explained.

   "What does that have to do with anything?" she asked.  She stroked
Owen's head while he woke up enough to eat.

   "That means you'll be alone in bed tonight," he said.

   "I can't have sex for another month," Erica said.

   "I don't come here just for sex," said Bobby.

   "I'm not so sure I believe that," she said, but there was no scorn in
her voice.

   "OK," he said, his attitude amicable.  "Let me help you."

   She stood while he unbuttoned her blouse and took it off.  Then he
unclipped her bra and took that off too.

   "See," she said, smiling.  "All you want is my breasts."

   "If you say so," he said.  "Feed our son.  There's something I want to
do."

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

   Erica lay in his arms.  She could hear the slow measured cadence of his
breathing that meant he was asleep.  Yards away, she could hear other
breathing that told her Owen was sleeping too.

   Bobby had waited until the baby was fed and put down to sleep.  Then he
had stripped her and himself and taken her to bed, to show her there were
other ways to find ecstasy than just intercourse.

   She loved the way he emptied her breasts.  He got them completely empty,
sucking and slurping until there was nothing left and giving her a string
of orgasms in the process.

   "See?" she had moaned.  "All you want is sex."

   He took the time to take his lips from her nipples.  "Yes dear," he
said.

   Now, though, she knew he was there for much more than her breasts.  He
hadn't even masturbated.  He was hard.  She'd felt that.  But instead of
looking to his own orgasm, or asking her to, he'd just cuddled with her as
she relaxed from her last climax.  He was going to be there all night ...
holding her ...  just being with her.

   She moved and his arms tightened fractionally and then went slack again.
She wiggled to put her front against his and closed her eyes to sleep.

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

   As he got paychecks, Bobby bought more lumber and sheet rock to finish
the rooms in the barn.  Prudence and Constance, both experienced now, came
often to work on the barn project while Bobby drove the truck.  He got a
discount, since he worked for the company, and that helped with the
building materials expenses.  The problem now was the heating, cooling and
plumbing, particularly running a sewer line from the barn to join that of
the house.  Those things needed to be done by professionals and that was
expensive.  The sewer line alone was going to cost two hundred and fifty
dollars.

   It was for that reason, and that reason only, that when Paula finally
worked up the courage to call Bobby, early in February, he didn't just hang
up on her when she explained what she wanted him to do.  He listened to
her, initially, because he just couldn't believe what he was hearing and
was waiting to see if she was joking or not.

   "I knew you were crazy," he said into the phone.

   "I'm NOT crazy," she said.  "You don't understand, Bobby!  You're not a
woman.  Losing your virginity is a big deal!"

   "And you think that these ...  how many is it ...  three girls?"

   "Maybe four," she said.  "Five if you include me.  I'll want to see you
too, of course."

   "And you think I can just come up there and ...  service ...  five
women, so that losing their virginities is a lovely experience?"

   "It's only four virgins," she reminded him.  "And losing mine with you
was fantastic, Bobby.  Please?" she begged.



   "This is insane," he said.

   "No it's NOT!" she moaned.  "It solves OUR problem, and it solves YOUR
problem too if we pay your way up here.  Didn't you tell me you needed
money to finish the barn?"

   That was when he stayed on the line for the reason mentioned above. 
What she had offered - three hundred dollars - would cover the plumbing.

   "Bobby?" Her voice sounded plaintive.  He realized he hadn't said
anything for a while.

   "I must be the crazy one," he sighed.  "What exactly is it that these
women would want me to do?"

   Sensing success for the first time since he'd answered, she animatedly
explained it in as understated a way as she knew how.

   "All you have to do is pop each girl's cherry," she said brightly.

   "That would take days for four women," he said.

   "No it wouldn't.  Each girl has her own bedroom.  You just go from one
to the other."

   "That's not how it's done, Paula," he sighed.  "You, of all people,
should know that."

   "I know," she said.  "But with me it was different.  I didn't PLAN on
letting you take my virginity.  That's why it took you so long to do it."

   Bobby sighed again.  Now it was HIS fault it had taken him so long to do
something she hadn't planned on doing in the first place.

   "I can't just walk in, climb on top, destroy a hymen and then get back
off," he said.  "There's nothing remotely romantic about that."

   "They're not trying to fall in love, Bobby.  They just don't want to be
virgins anymore, and they want a man to take care of that who's good at
that."

   "Thank you so much," said Bobby dryly.  "I'll have to put on my resume
that I'm an excellent cherry picker."

   "You ARE!" said Paula, missing his sarcasm entirely.  "Please, Bobby. 
You could make them all so happy.  I KNOW you can."

   Bobby looked at the calendar on the wall.  They had about two months,
before the researchers would be there taking up the whole house.  The barn
needed to be finished and furnished and being lived in by then.  They could
do it with no problem ...  if they had the money.  His stomach didn't feel
good.  This whole stupid scheme didn't feel good.

   But they needed the money.

   "I'll think about it," he said.

   He had to pull the phone away from his head because she squealed so
loudly.  When it was quiet he put it back.

   "Can I assume you aren't pregnant?" he asked.

   "Nope!" she said cheerfully.  "Had my period right on time."

   "Are all these women on the pill?" he asked.  He thought about Misty. 
She'd been on the pill and it hadn't made any difference.

   "They will be," said Paula confidently.

   "Have them get diaphragms too," said Bobby.

   "What?" She sounded puzzled.  "Why?"

   "Because I don't want any babies to result from this loony plan," he
said.

   "No problem," she assured him.  "They wouldn't want that either."

   "Call me tomorrow," he said.  "I'll give you my answer then."

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

   Bobby thought about it, and even dreamt about it, for the next
twenty-six hours or so.  They were disturbing dreams.  In the dreams, women
were laid out, blindfolded, naked, their legs spread.  He went from one to
the other, sinking his penis into them.  Each screamed.  He awoke sweating.
"It wouldn't be like that," he told himself.  "I wouldn't let it be like
that." He didn't sleep well the rest of the night, though.

   The problem was that when he'd gone to the bank, to see about a loan, he
found out that the loan officer was Wesley Vaughn ...  Millie Vaughn's
husband.

   "I'm sorry, but I can't give you the loan," the man said firmly.

   "Why is that?" asked Bobby.  He was pretty sure he knew why, but wanted
the man to have to say it.

   "It's too big a risk," said Wesley, lying through his teeth.  Bobby had
already told him about the all summer contract.  Wesley would have given
the loan happily, had it not been for who was asking for it.  He knew he'd
have to sleep on the couch for months if he gave this loan.  And that was
if Millie didn't throw him out altogether.  "I just can't risk it," he
said.

   "The contract with the researchers will have it paid back within a
month," said Bobby.

   "May I see the signed contract?" asked Wesley.  He already knew there
wasn't one.  Bobby had explained that too.

   "Thanks for your time," Bobby had said, rising to leave.

   If he didn't do this thoroughly loopy thing Paula was asking him to do,
they could probably still live in the barn, but they'd have to go into the
house for water and toilets.  His anticipated wages from his job would
probably cover the electrician and the furniture.  Or it would cover the
furniture and the plumbing.  It might cover the electrician and the
plumbing, but not all three at once.  And under any of those scenarios, it
was no way to try to house two new mothers and two babies.

   He felt like he needed an antacid when Paula called and he said he'd do
it.

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

   Bobby's next problem was explaining to his mother why he was going to go
spend a day or two in Manhattan, Kansas.  He knew she wouldn't go along
with the idea that he was going to go reap a handful of cherries, in order
to get the money to finish the barn.  Since HE thought it was a stupid
idea, he knew she would too.

   That problem was solved for him when Mirriam showed him the letter from
Suzie that contained information about when graduation would be, and what
building it would be in and so on.

   "I hope we can find things," said his mother, who had never traveled
outside of Granger more than fifty miles.  She didn't stop to think that
she could navigate Wichita just fine and that Manhattan was much smaller
than that.  Bobby didn't give her time to think of that either.

   "I'll mosey up that way in the next few weeks and scope it all out ahead
of time," he said, as the idea came to him.  "I can stay with Suzie for a
day or two, and she can show me how to get around and all that."

   His plan was to do what had to be done with Paula and the other women,
and then call Suzie and surprise her.  Of course you and I already know a
wrench would get thrown in that particular set of gears, but he didn't know
it then.

   The only threat to his plan, at that time, was that the twins wailed
that they wanted to go with him to see Suzie and the university, and have
an adventure.  He reminded them of their employment and the fact that
they'd have to take the babies along.  That cooled their ardor a bit.  It
also made them think about the responsibilities of being mothers and how
that can limit one's options.

   And so it was, that on a Wednesday in the third week of March, 1977,
Bobby Dalton drove off to what could unarguably be called his first
assignation as a professional gigolo.  He hadn't called Suzie first,
because that would restrict his freedom in getting his mission
accomplished. He had told his mother not to tell Suzie either, since he
said he wanted to surprise her.

   In that he would be successful.

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

   What Bobby didn't know, and Paula had been unable to tell him, was that
her parents decided to check up on their daughter during Spring Break. 
Millie, their older daughter, had been less than forthcoming with
information about how Paula's visit at the New Year had gone.  That was
because Millie didn't want to have to endure the tongue-lashing she knew
she'd get if their parents actually found out what had happened that week.
Her somewhat vague "Oh, she had a good time," had contained an element of
guilt in it that she couldn't suppress.  Her mother was an expert at guilt,
both in feeling it and transmitting it to others, and her radar lit up. 
Rather than interrogate their older daughter, who had become increasingly
independent after getting married, "Mother Vaughn," as she liked to be
called, decided to go straight to the source.

   It was a “surprise inspection,” so to speak, and when her
parents presented themselves at the sorority house, to see their daughter,
Paula was suddenly stuck.  She knew Bobby would be there sometime that day
and panicked.

   "I'll get a bag!" she yelped.

   "What?" Her mother was confused.

   "Well you can't stay here!" said Paula.  "Aren't you picking me up?"

   "We just came to see how you're doing, dear," said her mother.

   Paula was an intelligent young woman.  The look on her mother's face
wasn't smoldering anger.  That told her intuitively that Millie hadn't
spilled the beans yet ...  at least not all of them.

   "And so you shall!" yipped Paula.  "We can talk all about it on the way
home."

   Fifteen minutes later an increasingly nervous Paula got into the back
seat of her father's car, to spend the rest of Spring Break trying to
salvage her home situation.  That ride with her parents and the subsequent
three days, during which she paid dearly for her rash actions in Granger,
would make a story in itself.  But that's a story for another day.  Before
she left, in a hurried and frantic conversation, she implored Tracy to take
over for her and see that Bobby got to where he was supposed to go.

   Chapter Eighteen



   Tracy was a nervous wreck.  She was sitting in the parlor of the
sorority house, having chewed her fingernails to ruins, when the man she
had seen only once before walked in.

   Her mind split, at that point.  Half of it confirmed that the man Paula
had raved about was indeed a hunk, as she remembered.  That half sent
signals to her belly that said "Oh YES!" Upbringing is a difficult thing to
overcome, sometimes though, and it was that half of her that cringed at the
thought of this large, muscular man hulking over her naked body while her
cherished virginity was ripped from her loins.

   It took her only one point five seconds to chicken out.

   "I'm looking for Paula French," said the man in a deep voice that made
Tracy almost vibrate.

   "Sh-sh-she's not here," Tracy said weakly.

   He looked at her interestedly.  "Don't I know you?" he asked.

   Tracy had heard that line from a dozen young men, who had tried to start
conversations with her.  She'd always wanted to laugh when they tried it.
She didn't feel like laughing now, though.  She felt like taking her shirt
off.  She chickened out again.

   "I ...  I picked Paula up at your house," she said weakly.

   "Oh, yeah," he said.  His interest seemed to wane.  "Where is she?"

   Tracy was a little bit stung.  Why wasn't he putting the make on her?!

   "Her parents came and picked her up," she said.

   "Really!" He sounded genuinely surprised.

   "Yes," she said, her voice firming.  If he wasn't going to notice her as
a woman ...  well ...  HE was the loser here!  "They came to get her and
take her home for Spring Break."

   Bobby's response to that was somewhat surprising, to both of them. 
Without Paula, he didn't know where he was supposed to go.  That was a good
thing, in the sense that he had gotten less and less comfortable with this
whole cherry picking thing with every mile closer to Manhattan he drove. 
It just felt wrong.  And if he couldn't fulfill his promise because Paula
wasn't there, then it really wasn't his fault.  So he smiled.

   "That's too bad," he said.

   Tracy saw the smile, and misinterpreted it.  From her viewpoint, Bobby
was smiling because with Paula gone, that left him free to pursue her. 
Paula hadn't actually told her any details about how all this was supposed
to go.  She just said that Bobby had agreed to be there to take care of
"all of us." She knew that Paula had planned on sneaking him into the
sorority house, which wouldn't be that hard since almost everyone was gone
for Spring Break anyway.  Tracy just assued that, when it was her turn,
Paula would bring him to her room.  Now he was here ...  and he was ready!
She was not.

   "I'm supposed to take you over to Melanie's house," she blurted.  She
expected him to suggest they go to her room any second.

   "Melanie?" He looked confused, but it passed quickly.  "Oh ...  is that
where I'm supposed to ...  be?"

   "Yes!" she said, too loudly.  She had to do something to undo her pledge
to participate.  "I changed my mind," she gasped.

   "You changed your mind?" He was clearly confused.

   "About doing this," she said weakly.

   "About doing what?" he asked.

   She stared at him.  He seemed not to know what she was talking about. 
"You know," she said.  "About why you're here."

   His face went smooth.

   "Oh," he said.  He seemed uncomfortable for some reason.  "You were ...
um ...  one of them?"

   In a flash of understanding Tracy realized that he didn't have much
information about this either.  He hadn't even known she was one of the
women he was there to see!  She felt better instantly.

   "Yes, but I decided not to," she said.

   "Oh, OK," he said.  "That's fine."

   She felt a twinge of disappointment that he was willing to give up so
easily on her.  It just confirmed in her own mind that this was all a
stupid idea.

   "Paula asked me to show you where the others live," she said.  "You
ready?"

   "I guess so."

   She had expected him to say "You bet I AM!" or, perhaps, "Bring them on,
Baby, I'm hot to trot!" That he seemed just as ambivalent about all this as
she did made him seem less threatening than he'd been a few minutes before.


   It only took them seven minutes to drive to Melanie's house.  There were
three stoplights on the way, and they got all three on red.  He was
affable, and not at all upset that she'd cancelled on him, but in a way
that didn't seem to reject her.  He didn't just sit quietly and wait for
her to tell him where to turn.  He commented on how nice the campus looked,
and he asked her about school.  He said it was his first time in Manhattan,
and said he had a sister in school there, and was going to visit her later.
He just seemed like a regular guy.

   But, as they parked, she realized that she either had to walk home or go
in with him, in which case she'd be more or less trapped there.  To her
immense surprise, when he found out she was going to walk, he said he'd
take her back to the sorority house.

   "You don't have to do that," she said.

   "You shouldn't be penalized just because you changed your mind," he
said.

   What Tracy found exceedingly odd was that, in the six minutes it took
him to stop in front of the sorority house, and let her out, she almost
changed her mind again.

   "Thanks," he said.  His smile made her stomach feel funny.

   "No problem," she said.  "You're sure you can find it again?"

   "No problem," he said, aping her previous response.  He grinned.

   It wasn't until he was gone that she gave serious thought to walking
over to Melanie's after all.  He WAS handsome.  She wondered what it would
be like, looking up into those blue eyes ...  from underneath him ... 
while she was being made a woman.

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

   Paula had planned on having Bobby from when he arrived, on the
sixteenth, until the morning of St.  Patrick's Day, on the seventeenth. 
She had some misty plans to turn him over to Tracy Thursday morning, and
then take him to Melanie’s when Tracy was taken care of.  Melanie,
Tiffany and Suzie would have him the rest of the day, and all that night,
and everybody would be happy on Friday morning when he left.  Paula had
told Melanie about this time schedule, but hadn't said anything to Tracy,
because Tracy lived just down the hall from her.  She'd been about to go
find Tracy when her parents showed up unexpectedly.

   So his arrival at the house lived in by Melanie, Tiffany and Suzie was a
day in advance of when it had been planned, and the girls were not ready
for him.

   For one thing, Melanie was still in her robe, and Tiffany was wearing a
pair of sweat shorts and a sleeveless sweat shirt with holes in it. 
Neither had on makeup, and neither had done anything with their hair, other
than pull it up into a makeshift pony tail.  It was a lazy day.  Suzie was
gone, out jogging, something she did every day, and which neither other
girl had any inclination to join her in, when there was a knock at the
door.

   Tiffany was closer, so she went to see who was there.

   "Hi, I'm Bobby," said the man at the door.

   Tiffany, who was five-five, looked up.  She thought "lumberjack" for
some reason.

   "Who is it?" came Melanie's faint call from farther into the house.

   "I don't know!" yelled Tiffany, over her shoulder.

   "I'm Bobby," repeated the man.  "Paula couldn't bring me.  She had to go
home."

   It clicked in Tiffany's mind then.  Paula had never actually told them
the man's name who was to come and harvest all those cherries.  She took a
step back.  He was huge!

   A frazzled looking Melanie came into the room.  She was wearing pink
bunny slippers, with big, floppy ears on the toes, above buck-toothed
faces.

   "What?" she asked, looking past Tiffany at the dark bulk of a man,
surrounded by what light was getting past him through the door.

   "It's him!" gasped Tiffany.

   "Who?" asked Melanie.

   "HIM!" squealed Tiffany.

   Bobby looked at the two women.  "Paula couldn't bring me," he said
again. He didn't know what else to say.

   "Oh!" It was Melanie's turn to gasp.  She thought of how she was
dressed. "Shit!"

   "Is this a bad time?" asked Bobby.  This wasn't at all what he'd
expected.  He'd thought about what this might be like dozens of times, but
none of those scenarios had been remotely like this.

   "It's not Thursday!" said Melanie.

   "No," said Bobby.  "It's Wednesday."

   "But Paula said Thursday!" said Melanie.

   "Oh," said Bobby, who was not privy to Paula's original plan.  "You want
me to come back tomorrow?"

   This wasn't going at all like Melanie had dreamed it would go.  She'd
planned what to wear, and how to have her hair, and what makeup to use. 
She'd even gotten new perfume, just for this occasion.  She stared at the
bulk filling the doorway, and her knees got a little shaky.  She knew
instinctively that, if she sent him away, she would chicken out the next
day.  She was tired of chickening out.  None of her plans worked out, but
that was just too bad.

   "No," she said.  "We just weren't expecting you.  Come in," she added.

   He moved into the room and Tiffany stared at him, leaving the door open.


   "Tiffany!" said Melanie, trying to take charge.

   "Huh?" asked Tiffany, looking over.

   "Door?"

   "Oh." Tiffany closed the door.

   Bobby examined the two women.  They reminded him of his sisters, when
they were younger.  He smiled, because that made him feel a little bit less
uncomfortable.

   "Sorry about the mix-up," he said.  "Paula went home to see her
parents."

   "You're kidding!" said Melanie, who sounded shocked.  How could Paula
just desert them like this?!"

   "I gather it was a surprise for her too," said Bobby.

   Melanie tried to deal with the situation, and fell back on routine, for
lack of anything better.  "I'm Melanie," she said.  "This is Tiffany."

   "Pleased to meet you both," said Bobby, almost formally.  He winced in
his mind, but it didn't show on his face.  He felt like he wasn't handling
this well at all.  "I'm glad we can move things up." That was even worse,
and he wished they HAD told him to come back tomorrow.

   Melanie's reaction to his two comments was as mixed as the comments
themselves.  His formal greeting seemed odd, under the circumstances.  His
apparent eagerness to serve in his role as stud was much more in line with
what she'd expected.  That he was eager to be the stud, despite their ratty
appearance, made her knees act up again.

   "We should go get dressed," she yipped.

   Again, Bobby saw the behavior of young, inexperienced women.  Their
innocence appealed to him, even if this crazy plan did not.  They were
worried about their appearance, not knowing that, if a man found them
attractive, it didn't matter if they were fixed up or not.  He'd seen his
sisters with sleep wrinkles on their faces, and hair a mess, and had been
impatient to mount them anyway.  It wasn't how they looked that turned him
on ...  it was who they were.  He tried to transfer that feeling to these
two young women.

   "If you want to," he said casually.  "You both look fine just like you
are, though."

   "We do?" Tiffany looked down at her comfortable outfit.  She realized
that she wasn't wearing a bra, and that various holes in her sweatshirt
might show things she wasn't used to showing to a man, to say nothing of
the gaping armholes.

   "You do," he confirmed.

   Melanie felt the urge to shiver, though her body didn't do that.  He
sounded so sure of himself.  That matched more with her fantasy, that this
man would make her feel special, make her want to give him her virginity.
She was distracted as he looked around.

   "I thought there were three of you."

   Melanie's opinion of him went up another notch.  The idea that there
were three women to please didn't bother him at all.  He must BE the stud
that Paula claimed he was.

   "Our roommate is out jogging," she said.  "She'll be back in a while."

   She expected him to say: "Doesn't matter.  Who wants to go first?"

   Instead he said: "Do you have anything to drink?"

   The fact was that Bobby had no idea how to proceed.  He'd never been in
this situation before.  With the possible exception of Tilly, he'd spent
lots of time with all the women before things progressed to the point that
sex was involved.  Having just met these girls, he didn't know what to do
next, other than try to get to know them a little bit.

   Melanie's face looked blank for a second.  "Um ...  sure," she said. 
"What do you want?"

   "Anything," he said.  He looked around and chose to sit on one end of
the couch.  The other end was piled with the clothes Melanie had gathered
up and intended to put in the washer.

   Melanie picked up the clothes and hurried to the kitchen.  She threw the
clothes in the hamper in the utility room and looked in the fridge and see
what was there.  She saw one bottle of beer, way in the back, a carton of
orange juice, and milk.  She'd planned on getting wine that day, so they'd
have it when he showed up the next day.  She looked at her watch.  It was
eleven-ten.  She grabbed the carton of orange juice and closed the door. 
She got a glass from the cupboard.  There was enough OJ to mostly fill it.

   She was turning to go deliver it when the back door opened and Suzie
walked in, sweating from her run.  Her ponytail was stuck to her neck,
where the tank top she was wearing left the damp skin exposed.

   "He's here!" whispered Melanie harshly.

   "What?" asked Suzie.  She'd come in from the alley.  Had she run down
the street, she'd have seen Bobby's car parked in front of the house, and
had some warning.

   "The GUY!" rasped Melanie.  "The one Paula got for us!"

   "But it's not Thursday," said Suzie, almost exactly as Melanie herself
had said it.

   "Paula's parents apparently showed up and they took her home," said
Melanie.  “He just came here instead."

   "Well tell him to come back tomorrow," said Suzie.  She had planned on
being 'unexpectedly busy' with something on St.  Patrick's Day.  She'd
tried to get her boss to let her work, but couldn't explain why she didn't
want to be home.  He'd insisted she take the day off.  She'd been trying to
think of another excuse on her run that morning, but hadn't come up with
anything that was sufficient to convince her roommates that she couldn't
get out of it.

   "I can't!" whispered Melanie.  She wouldn't explain why she couldn't. 
Suzie was already too resistant to the whole idea, and Melanie needed Suzie
to pitch in with the money.  Her mind wandered for a few seconds, and she
wondered if Paula would try to back out on her share.

   "Why not?" asked Suzie.

   "He doesn't have anyplace to stay!," said Melanie, improvising.  She was
proud of herself for thinking that up.  Her purse was on the table and she
went to it.  She pulled out a twenty dollar bill and thrust it at Suzie. 
"Go get some wine," she said.  "Get two bottles of that sweet kind that we
all like."

   "Melanie!" complained Suzie.  "Can't he just stay in a motel or
something?"

   "Do you want to pay for that too?" asked Melanie, scathingly.  "He's
here!  Let's just make the best of it.  I have to fix something for lunch.
Just go get the wine, OK?"

   "OK!" said Suzie, irritably.  "You know I wasn't keen on all this from
the beginning!"

   "Come on, Suzie," said Melanie, suddenly wheedling.  "He's gorgeous. 
You won't be sorry.  Just go with the flow.  By tomorrow we'll all be happy
and you can go to med school and find a boyfriend, and not have to be
scared any more.  Please?  Won't you at least do this for me and Tiff?"

   "You are so lame," sighed Suzie.

   "I am not," said Melanie.  "I'm just horny.  And now I get to do
something about it.  He's SO cute, Suzie.  I KNOW you'll like him."

   "He's a gigolo!" snapped Suzie.

   "Well he's a nice one," said Melanie.  "He even said we looked just fine
like we are!"

   Suzie looked at her friend, who was a mess, and shook her head.

   "Sounds to me like he's as hard up as we are," she said.  She giggled.
"OK.  I'll go get the wine, but I'm getting THREE bottles.  I have a
feeling I'm going to need a whole bottle myself, just to get through this."


   Melanie felt relief wash through her and dug into her purse again,
pulling out another bill.

   "Make it four," she said.  "Just in case."

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

   Melanie found Bobby and Tiffany deep in conversation.  She could tell
that Tiffany was already more relaxed.  She was sitting on the other end of
the couch, half facing Bobby.  Tiffany was listing all the classes she was
taking.  Melanie handed Bobby the glass of OJ.

   "I'm just going to get something ready for lunch," she said.  "We can
get started after that." She bit her lip.  That sounded so stupid.

   "Sounds good," said Bobby, flicking a look at her.  Then his eyes went
back to Tiffany.  Melanie felt a little miffed that he hadn't paid more
attention to her.

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

   Tiffany felt a little like she must be dreaming.  He seemed so
interested in her!  He wanted to hear all about her classes, and where she
was from.  He even asked her if she had any brothers or sisters, and what
her father did for a living.  His eyes didn't roam around the room.  He
kept them fastened on her.  He looked mostly at her face, she noticed, but
his eyes did flicker here and there.  She could feel the cool air on her
skin, coming through the holes in her shirt.  She kept herself from looking
down.  She knew there was one hole in the front of her shirt that might
show part of her right breast, if it was positioned just right, but she
didn't want to draw attention to it.

   Then, to her surprise, he told her a little about himself.  He said he'd
grown up on a farm, and had sisters.  She said their other roommate - the
one out jogging - had grown up on a farm too, and wasn't that interesting?

   He asked her if she had a boyfriend, which she thought was odd, seeing
as what he was there to do, but she went with the flow and somehow found
herself explaining Melanie's philosophy about not trying too hard to find a
long term relationship until you had enough ...  experience ...  to make
that less threatening.

   "I can understand that," he said.  "In fact, I know several women who
felt the same way."

   His veiled reference to "other women" made Tiffany's stomach flutter. 
She knew about Paula, of course, but he sounded so self confident ...  so
experienced.  For the first time since Melanie had come up with this weird
scheme, Tiffany thought that maybe ...  just maybe ...  it might not be so
bad.

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

   Melanie hoped chili-mac would be all right.  It was all she could come
up with on short notice.  She opened a can of green beans too.  It would be
stretching it to feed four, but she didn't want to do this on a full
stomach anyway.  She could hear Tiffany and him talking.  She wondered what
they were talking about.  What did you talk to a gigolo about?

   Suzie came in the back door with the wine just in time to put it in the
fridge and help set the table.

   "Where's Tiffany?" she asked, as she got out plates.

   "She's in there keeping him busy," said Melanie.

   "What?!" gasped Suzie.  "Already?!"

   "Not that way!" said Melanie.  She felt the urge to giggle, but knew if
she did she'd lose it, so clamped down.  "She's just talking to him."

   "Oh," said Suzie, looking toward the living room curiously.  "You know
we don't have enough wine glasses."

   "Give him his in the beer glass," said Melanie.  "He's a guy.  He
probably won't even notice." She checked the skillet, and then the beans.
The chili-mac was ready, but the beans weren't steaming yet.  "In fact, go
ahead and take him some now."

   "Tiffany too?" asked Suzie.

   "Yes … and me too," said Melanie.  She was getting more nervous,
instead of less, as time went on.  "Talk to him for a while, so Tiff can go
change clothes.  Tell her to come in here when she’s changed so I can
do the same thing."

   "What about me?" asked Suzie.

   Melanie looked at her friend.  Suzie was slim and fit.  She always
looked that way, no matter what she was wearing.

   "You're fine," she said.  "Guys like athletic girls."

   Suzie agreed with that assessment, actually.  She was quite aware that
men stared at her as she jogged.  It was one of the things she'd had to get
used to when she went to college.  Boys back home hadn't paid much
attention to her.  When men at college did, it affected the way she thought
about herself.  The guys in the lab flirted with her too, sometimes.  She
ignored that, as far as responding on the outside, and none of them had
pushed it, but it made her feel good, somehow.

   "If you say so," she said.  “I’m all sweaty, though.”

   “Guys probably like that too,” said Melanie, absently.

   Suzie got out the cork screw and struggled to get the cork out.  It
popped loose and she poured some in the three wine glasses they had, and
the beer glass that had been left at the house after some party in the
distant past.  She handed a wine glass to Melanie, who drained half of it
in one gulp.  She sipped from her own and put it on the table where she
intended to sit during lunch.

   Then she took the other two glasses and went to meet the mysterious man
who, if she couldn't think of a way out of it, might change her body in
ways she wasn't at all sure she was ready for.

   Chapter Nineteen



   The meeting of brother and sister might have turned the whole thing into
a fiasco.  To be completely honest, it was the shock of that meeting that
gave them time to make the adjustments necessary to prevent that.

   Bobby looked up his mouth fell open.  Tiffany happened to be talking at
the time, so he didn't stop in mid sentence.  Part of Suzie's reaction,
when she saw Bobby sitting on the couch, was a tightening of her fingers,
which kept her from dropping both glasses.  Her mouth also sagged, and her
breath caught in her chest.  Tiffany looked to see what Bobby was looking
at.

   "Suzie!" she said, somewhat breathlessly.  "This is Bobby.  He's ... 
Paula's friend," she finished, somewhat weakly.

   "Oh!" said Bobby and Suzie, together.  It was just like the twins might
have spoken.

   The minds of both Daltons whirled furiously.  Bobby felt like he'd been
caught with his hand in the cookie jar, except it was much more serious
than that.  He expected her to blow sky high, which would require his
immediate and final embarrassed withdrawal.  He wasn't sure whether he
would be more embarrassed, or Suzie would.  He WAS sure that this couldn't
possibly end well.

   Suzie had an instant vision of him saying something like "What are YOU
doing here?" and her roommates finding out that her brother was a gigolo.
She didn't have all that many friends.  She spent all her time studying and
working.  And she had the rest of the semester to finish so she could
graduate early and move on to med school.  The thought of how she was sure
her roommates would treat her during that time made her want to curl up and
cry.  She thought frantically, and knew that her only chance to avoid
complete embarrassment was to speak first, before he opened his big mouth.

   "How nice to meet you!" she blurted.  Her eyes pled with him.

   Bobby was completely unprepared for that response, but he grasped the
out she had, for some reason, given him.

   "Um ...  likewise," he said weakly.

   They stared at each other for what seemed like ten minutes, to both of
them.

   "Do you two know each other?" asked Tiffany, looking back and forth at
two suddenly pale faces, staring at each other.

   "NO!" said Suzie, breaking her gaze away from Bobby's face.  "He just
reminds me of somebody," she added.

   "Yeah," said Bobby.  "You do look familiar." He couldn't believe it, but
it looked like she wasn't going to bust his chops.  He reached for the
first thing that came to mind.  "Were you ever in 4-H?" He remembered she'd
joined the organization for a year.  She hadn't been as interested in it as
she'd thought she would be, and had dropped out.

   "Yes!" she said.  "Maybe we saw each other then." She thought furiously
as she looked back at her brother.  "At the State Fair, maybe!"

   "Yeah," he said.  "That must have been it."

   "I've heard of that," said Tiffany.  "I don't know anything about it,
though.  You never mentioned it before, Suzie."

   "Oh!" said Suzie, looking back at Tiffany.  "I was only in for a year. I
couldn't afford to raise a sheep or a cow, so I dropped out."

   "Oh," said Tiffany, who was out of things to talk about, but didn't want
to stop talking to this interesting man.  "Well you have to tell us all
about it," she said, shifting her gaze from her roommate to the man who was
there to bed them all.

   "Mel said I should take over for you, while you go get changed," said
Suzie, suddenly very interested in being alone with Bobby.

   "Oh, OK," said Tiffany.  Part of her didn't want to leave.  Another part
of her suddenly wanted to look nicer for this man.  She bounced up, reached
for the wine glass Suzie was still holding, and took a gulp.  Her right
nipple, which she was amazed to find was erect, caught in the hole in her
sweat shirt.  She looked down to see the pink nubbin peeking out.  Her hand
flashed to cover it, automatically, and she blushed.  "I'll just ...  um
... go do that." she stammered.

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

   "What are you DOING here?" said Suzie, leaning down to whisper harshly
into her brother's face.

   Bobby had adjusted much more quickly to the situation than Suzie had. 
She hadn't blown his cover.  He wasn't sure what that meant, but he was
pretty sure she wouldn't do that in the immediate future.  The more
interesting thing was that she lived with these women.  Even if she hadn't
known it would be him ...  she obviously knew what he was there for.  And
her roommates said that the third girl he was there to … service
… was out jogging.  It suddenly struck him that his little sister
had intended to get her ashes hauled, just like the other two.

   "What are YOU doing here?" he shot back.  "I'm here to relieve a bunch
of women of their virginities!  Are YOU one of them?"

   Suzie leaned back, both because of the look on his face, which was one
of disturbing intensity ...  almost interest ...  and because of the bald
faced way he admitted it.  She suddenly felt defensive.  She looked at the
beer glass in her hand and gulped half of it.

   "What if I am?" she said, still trying to whisper.  "That's none of YOUR
business!"

   "Apparently it is," he said softly.

   Her eyes widened.  "No WAY, Bobby!" she yipped.

   He relaxed.  He'd been pushing her, and that wasn't the right way to do
things, in this particular situation.

   "I know," he said softly.  "This is crazy.  Just don't blow my cover,
OK?"

   "But WHY are you doing something like this?" she moaned.

   "I need the money to finish the barn," he said.

   "Oh," she said.  Their mother had told her about the barn project.  It
had sounded interesting.  She was also glad that the B&B was doing well
enough that they needed to do something like that with the barn.  Her
values argued with her, though.

   "This is still wrong!" she hissed.

   "I know," he said.  He sounded unhappy, and that, along with his
admission, disarmed her a little.  "I just couldn't think of anything else
to do,” he went on.  “And when Paula begged me to come up here
...  I just did it."

   "She begged you?" asked Suzie.  Melanie had tried to regale her with
Paula's descriptions of what it was like to be with 'this' man, even though
she had never given him an actual name.

   "She made it sound like you guys were desperate," said Bobby.

   "I'm not desperate!" objected Suzie.  "Melanie is, but not me.  She
begged me to go along with this farce!"

   "Well at least one of you is desperate," he sighed.

   "What are we going to do?" she whispered urgently.  He understood her
question was about her and him, and not her friends and him.

   "Don't worry," he said.  "When the time comes, we'll just go into your
room and talk or something.  They'll never know the difference."

   That made her feel better.  "You sure?" she asked, wanting to be
convinced it could be that easy.

   "What?" he asked, looking at her strangely.  "Do you WANT me to do
something with you?"

   "No!" she yipped.  "Of course not." She saw something come into his eyes
that almost looked like regret, but ignored it.  "Do you think that will
work?"

   "Sure," he said.  "I'm not going to do it in front of anybody.  I hope
you guys didn't plan an orgy or something." He looked nervous, suddenly.

   "We didn't PLAN anything!" she snapped.  "This is the stupidest thing I
ever heard of!"

   "Hey," he said.  "I'm with you.  It was just a chance to get things
done. Mamma rented out the whole bed and breakfast for all summer.  The
twins and I have to have someplace to live."

   "Oh, I'll just bet that's the only reason you're so hot to get the barn
finished," said Suzie, her whisper infused with scathing scorn.  "You just
want to get the twins out there where you can fuck them any time you want!"


   "I already do that," he said.  She was shocked again by his bluntness.

   She was saved from having to think up something to say when Tiffany
bounced back into the room.  She had put on a tank top, like Suzie was
wearing.  It was blatantly obvious she had no bra on under it, because her
breasts wobbled and shook as she came towards them.  Tight shorts went with
the outfit.  She'd combed her hair and put on some lipstick too.

   "Done," she said.  "You want to go get changed?" she asked Suzie.

   "No," said Suzie, trying not to frown.  "I'm fine.  Bobby here seems to
like athletic girls," she said, remembering what Melanie had suggested.

   "I do," he said, not quite leering at her.  He turned to Tiffany.  "You
look good," he said smoothly.  "But you didn't really need to change.  You
already looked good."

   She blushed, remembering the nipple.  She almost looked down at them
now. She knew they were poking through the tank top.  She'd left her bra
off on purpose, feeling deliciously naughty.

   "I smell lunch," she said.  "I'll go let Mel have a chance to freshen
up. You two are obviously getting along OK," she said brightly.  She almost
skipped into the kitchen.

   "You already looked good!" said Suzie, her voice in falsetto, and full
of scorn.  "I can't believe my own brother says crap like that."

   "You'd look good without that bra on," said Bobby calmly.

   She paled when she saw he meant it.  Her old fear of him bubbled up. 
She'd always been afraid he'd rape her.  She knew, on a cerebral level,
that was nonsense.  She knew her sisters hadn't objected at all to his
attentions.  She knew he was probably telling the truth about sleeping with
the twins whenever he felt like it.  But her stomach still clenched, even
though she knew he would never do anything to her that she objected to.

   "You just pay attention to THEM," she said stiffly.

   "That's what I'm here for," he said. 
=============================================

   Melanie went not quite running past them, since it was hard to run in
bunny slippers.

   "Be right back," she said, waving her wine glass at them.

   Suzie looked at the beer glass in her hand and drank the rest of the
wine in it.

   "Go easy on that stuff," said Bobby.  "I don't need anybody getting
drunk or throwing up," he said, remembering Paula.

   "Maybe if I pass out, this will all go away," she said.

   "Don't be that way," said Bobby, standing and taking the glass from her
hand.  "We'll get through this.  Just follow my lead."

   "OK," she said softly.  "But you're going to owe me big time for this."

   He didn't respond, so she pointed to the kitchen.  Tiffany was stirring
the chili-mac when they got there.  She told them to sit, and started
dishing out the meal.  She was just filling the wine glasses again when
Melanie returned.

   Melanie didn't have a lot of experience at trying to be sexy.  She was
basically what most mothers would have called a "nice girl" whose hormones
had built up pressure inside her that demanded an outlet.  She'd had
boyfriends, and had kissed and petted a little, but whenever anything got
halfway serious, she pulled back.  One of her most vivid memories was of an
ex-boyfriend she saw with another girl.  That girl had been basking in his
attention, which had been avid.

   She had, whether consciously or not, chosen an outfit to wear for this
occasion, that was remarkably like the one that girl had been wearing.  She
had on short shorts that clung to her like a second skin.  She'd put on a
tube top that was striped with rainbow colors and covered her breasts, but
that's all.  Her nipples were erect too, and prominent.  She'd combed her
hair, but then pulled the auburn tresses back into a ponytail, leaving her
shoulders bare.  If she hadn't chugged a glass of wine, she might have had
a hard time actually walking into the kitchen dressed that way.

   Suzie stared.

   Bobby said "Wow," softly.

   Melanie, flushed and preened under the attention.  "Is it too much?" she
asked, striking an awkward pose.

   "Yes," said Suzie.  "You look like a slut."

   Melanie looked hurt.

   "Pay no attention to this noise on my right," said Bobby, referring to
Suzie, who was seated at his right.  "It's perfect."

   "Thank you," said Melanie, shooting a triumphant look at Suzie.  "I
mean, considering what you're here for, maybe looking like a slut is OK,
just for today."

   "I agree!" said Tiffany, whose glass was half empty again.

   Bobby was worried that the wine was going to ruin things, but the meal
helped by getting some food into their stomachs, to dilute the alcohol.  He
sipped his own wine, just to set the example, though that didn't seem to
work as well as just keeping them talking.

   It was the end of the meal when things got awkward again.  None of them,
to be honest, knew how to move things forward.  The conversation ebbed, and
the girls started looking at each other.  Suzie just wanted to leave, but
she couldn't, because something inside required that she be there when her
roommates ...  did whatever it was they were going to do.  Bobby assumed
there was some kind of procedure they'd dreamed up.  Sitting at the table
with two women with stiff nipples had gotten his body interested, even
though Suzie was there too.  What had seemed like an insane idea, before,
now just seemed goofy and strange.  The fact that the girls were there, of
their own free will, helped a little, but he still felt like this might not
work out well.

   It was actually Suzie who broke the logjam though, to be honest, that
wasn't what she was trying to do.  Like her brother, she thought this was a
stupid idea, so she tried to illustrate that by saying brightly "So, who's
going first?"

   There it was ...  all hung out, so to speak ...  out on the table.  She
expected both of the other girls to balk, at which point she could turn to
the brother they didn't know was in the room and say something glib, like
"Well, it appears as though we have regained some of the sanity we once
lost.  Perhaps you should just toddle along back home, and take care of
some of your other customers."

   To her horror, though, Melanie lifted her chin.

   "I am," she said, her face flushing as she said it.

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

   About the time that Melanie shyly took Bobby's hand, and led him to her
bedroom, moving quickly so her knees wouldn't give way and embarrass her by
dropping her to the floor, a man accompanied by two college students, also
from Kansas State University was knocking on the door of the Dalton Bed and
Breakfast.

   Mirriam expected him, and opened the door smiling.

   "I'm Jeff Hamilton," said the professor, smiling.  “These two
young folks are Randy and Wanda, two of my grad students."

   "Welcome to the Dalton Bed and Breakfast," said Mirriam.  "Please come
in."

   They did, and she got to the tour immediately.  They made appreciative
sounds as she showed them the rooms.

   "Looks like someone is staying here now," said Randy, when they saw
Bobby's room.

   "My son is currently living in this room," she said.  "But we have plans
to make it free for your group when it's needed," she said.  "That's also
the case with one other room, where two of my daughters live." They had
moved the cribs back into the twins' room for this visit, so that the room
they'd been using as a nursery would be pristine.

   "I hope we're not driving your poor young ones out into the cold, cruel
world," said Professor Hamilton.

   "Not at all," said Mirriam.  "They're all grown, actually.  My son is
making renovations in another building to accommodate them.  My children
help me run the place," she said with a smile.

   She showed them the living room, kitchen and utility room.

   "You'll have the run of the place, for all intents and purposes," she
said.  "I'll be here to see to your needs."

   "We'll be in the field most of each day," said the professor. 
"’Weather permitting," he added.  "It will be nice, though, to have a
real home to come back to.  I think this is perfect." He turned to the grad
students.

   "I love it," said Wanda.  It's so cozy.  Much better than a motel."

   Randy held his peace.  That's because he and Wanda were
boyfriend/girlfriend.  His eyes had gone to beds that would hold two
people, though perhaps not in complete comfort.  Of course anything like
that would have to be done secretly.  Professor Hamilton was serious about
the research.  This wasn't an excuse to go play around.  They had real work
to do, and he would drive them hard.  But, on their off time ...  those
rainy days, for instance ...  he wanted to be able to spend some ... 
quality time ...  with Wanda.  He would actually have preferred a motel,
since that would let him go to her room and no one would be the wiser.  At
the same time, he knew this would be much more comfortable.

   "Let's you and I sit down and talk terms," said Jeff Hamilton.

   "Can we look around outside?" asked Randy.

   "By all means," said Mirriam.

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

   Melanie was having second thoughts as she got to her bedroom door. 
She'd done a hasty cleanup, when she changed clothes, so the room was neat
enough.  But she realized that, if she went into this room with this man,
great changes would take place.  She stopped, with her hand on the
doorknob, and turned.

   "I've never done this," she said nervously.

   "I know," he said softly.

   "I'm a little nervous."

   "I think it would be kind of weird if you weren't," he said.  He reached
past her to open the door by putting his hand on hers and turning the knob.
It only opened a few inches, and he took his hand off of hers.  She pushed
it open and walked in.  She was very aware that, when he followed her, he
left the door open and stepped to one side.  She didn't think of it as him
giving her an escape route, but her subconscious mind recognized it was
there.

   "I've always chickened out before," she said, not knowing what to do
with her hands.  She put them on her hips, and then let them hang again.

   "It's a big step," he said.  "You don't have to take it, if you don't
want to."

   "Yes I do," she said, immediately.  "I can't stand it.  If I chicken out
again, I'll never be able to do it." She sighed and went to sit on the edge
of the bed.  "I can't believe I'm saying all this."

   "It's perfectly fine," he said.  "I'm just here for whatever you need."

   He didn't feel like that was true, technically.  He was pretty sure she
didn't need this ...  not from him.  She needed a boyfriend, someone she
cared about, and could be passionate with, not a stranger.  The two other
girls sitting out in the living room didn't help either, as far as he was
concerned.

   "You've done this a lot," said Melanie, looking at him cautiously. 
"Right?"

   "Yes," said Bobby.  It didn't matter if this woman knew how many times.
If she called a halt to things, that was OK with him.  He was half hard,
but he knew that was just a biological reaction.

   "Were any of the others chicken ...  like me?" she asked.  It was clear
she wanted an affirmative answer.

   "Several of them." He gave her what she wanted, though he didn't know
what she'd do with that.

   "Did any of them chicken out with you?" she asked.

   "Kind of," he said.

   "What does that mean?" she asked.

   "With some of them it took several times together," he said carefully,
"before anything serious happened."

   "Oh," she said softly.  "We can't do that."

   "I guess not," he agreed.

   She sat there, thinking.  He let her, not wanting to push her.

   "So ...  what do you usually do?" she asked.

   "I'm not sure I understand the question," he said.

   "You know ...  to get things started," she said, looking at him.

   "Sometimes I dance with them," he said, remembering Paula.

   "I don't think I want to dance," she said.

   "Well, I'd like to kiss you," he offered.

   She'd done that before.  She realized she was sitting on the bed.

   "On the bed?" she asked.

   "Doesn't matter," he said.  He'd seen her stiffen and clutch the covers
of the edge of the bed with her hands.  He held out his hand.  She took it
automatically and he pulled her up, stepping so he was right in front of
her.  She looked up at him, her mouth sagging open.

   He talked to her first, reaching to touch her cheek with his thumb.

   "You're beautiful, you know," he said.  She stared into his eyes.  "You
don't have to do this with me.  There are a hundred guys who would love to
be in this room, right now, with you dressed that way."

   "Really?" Her eyes softened.

   "Really," he said.  He let his hand slide down her neck and onto her
bare shoulder.  From there he slid his hand down her arm, to lift her hand
up between them.  He kissed the tips of her fingers.  She blinked her eyes
several times.

   He stood back, and let his eyes wander up and down her body, boldly.

   "You look hot," he said.

   "I'm fine," she said weakly.

   "I mean sexy," he said.  "Those hundred guys would be undressing you in
their minds, like I am."

   Melanie was completely familiar with that concept.  It had bugged her a
number of times, when guys stared at her.  Right now, though, it didn't
seem to feel the same at all.  She felt her stomach do flip flops as his
eyes raked over her barely concealed breasts.

   "They'd like to pull that top down," he said softly.  "just like I do."

   "Ooooo," she sighed.  Whatever was doing somersaults in her belly kept
going.

   "You could have any one of those hundred men," he suggested.

   She swallowed.  She knew he was just saying these things to make her
feel better.  Her conscious mind recognized them as lines.  She even knew
that it was her subconscious mind that liked them so much, and wanted to
believe them.  It occurred to her that no man had been this bold about it
all before, though, and part of her liked having it all up front like this.
He wasn't really playing games with her.  He was just telling her how she
affected him.  She licked her lips, and swallowed.

   "They aren't here," she said.  "You are."

   His hands went to her bare waist.

   "Too bad for them," he said, and pulled her towards him.

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

   Randy pulled Wanda toward the barn.  Barns were full of hay.  And hay
made a nice, soft bed.  Prof Hamilton would be busy with the woman who ran
the place for a while.  He was surprised, though, when he pulled the door
open to see mostly finished rooms inside, instead of what he expected to
see.

   "This must be what she was talking about," said Wanda, pushing past him.


   "They're going to live in a barn?" he asked, unbelieving.

   "This is going to be nice!" said Wanda, exploring more.  "Look now big
the rooms are," she said.

   Together they explored.  Several of the rooms were almost finished. 
Only one had two walls of studs, with no wallboard on them.  It was fairly
easy to identify each room's purpose, based on plumbing that had been
partially installed, or the lack of it.

   "This is going to be a huge bedroom," said Wanda.  She had no way of
knowing that the twins would live here together.

   "Maybe you and I could talk them into letting us stay here, if it's
finished by then," said Randy.

   "Dream on," said Wanda, smiling at him.  "Prof Hamilton would never let
us do that."

   "You can dream, can't you?" he said.

   "Want to do some dreaming now?" she asked, coyly.

   "Here?" he asked.  "On a bare floor?"

   "You can lie on your back," she said, unbuttoning her shirt to reveal
her white bra underneath.

   Randy remembered seeing a drop cloth folded up in one corner of another
room.  He darted to get it and unfolded it enough to make a thin pad to lie
on.  Wanda was already down to her bra and panties, and was reaching behind
her to loosen the bra.

   "We have to hurry," she said.

   "You always complain when I hurry," he said, grinning.

   "You just wait for me," she said.  "Then you can hurry."

   Chapter Twenty



   Melanie felt much better.  That's because this man kissed her just
perfectly.  He had kissed her four or five times, already, and his hands
were sliding all over her back.  She could feel her motor revving. 
Normally, that was a danger sign, but the circumstances of this peculiar
day made that OK, so she let it happen, and enjoyed it.

   Ten minutes later they were somehow on the bed, still kissing.  She
wasn't sure how, exactly, they'd gotten there, but that was OK too.  Now
his fingers were brushing the sides of her breasts.  It was fun to let that
happen too, and not worry about it.  What was the most fun, though, was
being turned on, and not being so scared by it.  She sucked at the tip of
his tongue, as he pulled back from her face.

   "I like kissing you," he said.

   "You're good at this," she panted.

   For answer, he started kissing her neck.  He got up on his hands and
knees, which startled her, but then she understood, when he began moving
his lips from one shoulder to the other, across her upper chest.  His lips
dipped to her upper cleavage, and she had to force herself to relax.  Then
he was kissing her stomach, and he stuck his tongue into her belly button.

   "That tickles," she giggled, wiggling under him.

   "Does this tickle?" he asked, kissing his way up the swell of one cloth
covered breast, to kiss the jutting tip of the nipple.

   Her eyes opened wide.  This was so new!  But it was fun too.  "No," she
said softly.

   His fingers reached for the top of her tube top and she froze again.  He
rolled it down a couple of inches, and then kissed what he'd revealed.

   "How 'bout that?" he asked, smiling up at her.  "Does that tickle?"

   "No," she whispered.

   He kept going, rolling the top down inch, by inch.  Soon the roll of
cloth was just above her nipples.  She lifted her head and could see the
brown edge of one areola.

   "Now?" He kept doing that!

   "No!" she said, her voice louder now.

   She didn't expect him to just drag the whole top down ...  to uncover
both breasts, all at once.  As he had rolled the front of the top, the back
had been stuck by her body weight and now, as his hands pulled and her
breasts were suddenly bare, the back pulled uncomfortably.  It was just
instinct to push into the bed with the back of her head and arch her back,
to ease the strain.  The tightly stretched material under her snapped
downward, and suddenly the tube top was wrapped around her lower ribs.

   She also wasn't ready for him to lean down and suck a nipple into his
mouth.

   "UHHHHHHH," she groaned.  The sweet streaks of pleasure were like
nothing she'd ever felt before.  He moved to the other one, and his fingers
came to the abandoned one to squeeze and pull gently.

   "Ohhhhhh fuck," she groaned.

   She was almost astonished when he raised his head and said "How 'bout
that?  Does that tickle?"

   "Don't stop!" she gasped, amazed that the words had come out of her
mouth.

   "OK," he said, still smiling, and went back to work on her breasts.

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

   "I think this is going to work most well," said Jeff Hamilton, leaning
back in his chair.

   "I'm glad," said a very relieved Mirriam, also relaxing.  She was a
little surprised that he hadn't bargained a little harder.  He'd given her
a better deal than she'd expected.  She thought about his reference to a
grant, and about how it was always easier to spend someone else's money,
than your own.  But that was fine.  The deal she'd struck with this man
would solve all their money problems, both for this season and beyond.  "I
can't thank you enough for choosing us to serve you."

   Jeff surveyed the woman sitting across from him.  They were about the
same age.  He glanced at her finger.  No ring.  She was a handsome woman,
and intelligent.  He was going to enjoy being around her all summer.  Who
knew what might happen?

   "Your grad students aren't back yet," said Mirriam.  She was aware of
how he was looking at her.  She wasn't averse to his examination, but at
the same time, she wasn't seeking anything either.  He was an interesting
man, but she assumed he was married.  She had Bobby, for when she needed a
man.



   "They're boyfriend and girlfriend," said Jeff.

   "I see," said Mirriam.

   "I hope that won't be a problem," said Jeff.

   "Not my business," said Mirriam.

   "We're all pretty close, working together as much as we do," he said. 
"I work them hard.  I can't complain if they have a little fun now and
then. It's the seventies, after all."

   "As I said," said Mirriam.  "It's not my business.  Would you like some
tea?"

   He smiled.  "I thought we were done."

   "While we wait for your students," explained Mirriam.

   "Excellent," said Jeff.

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

   "They're going to come looking for us!" gasped Wanda.  She had ridden
him through an orgasm, and, despite her protestations, he had rolled her
over and was hunched over her now, fucking her with pile driver stabs of
his hard prick.  She could hear her pussy gurgling and making squishy
noises, and could feel his balls slapping her butt.

   "Almost there," he gasped.  Then, "Ohhhh yeeeaaaaahhhhhh," as he jetted
into her.

   As with so many young people, they scrambled up immediately, seeking to
restore their clothing so that no one would know what they'd done.  They
were unaware that they could have taken ten more minutes, while the adults
inside sipped tea and chatted.

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

   "Ohhhh Bobby," sighed Melanie.  She was squeezing her own breasts now,
because Bobby was busy doing something she hadn't dreamed he'd do.  She
could hear him slurping between her legs, and yet again, she felt something
that was better than anything else she'd ever felt.

   He didn't answer her.  He'd fingered her through one orgasm, while
sucking her nipples.  He'd only loosened the front of her short shorts, for
that, and afterwards, had gotten her naked while she panted, her hips
lifting to help him remove her last garment.  She was no longer shy about
letting him see her naked.  She was no longer reluctant either.  She had
assumed he'd finish the job, and had spread her legs with only a twinge of
nervousness.

   But he hadn't done what she thought he would, and she felt like her body
was rising off the bed, full of something that would make her float, like a
balloon.  She wasn't sure exactly what he was doing down there, but it felt
so good she knew she was going to have another orgasm soon.

   That amazed her.  Like so many women, she thought you got one per
session, and that was all.  He was about to prove her wrong.

   It was while she was in the throes of her second orgasm that he crawled
up, fisted his prick, and did what he'd been hired to do.

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

   Suzie and Tiffany had been sitting, and listening to the muffled sounds
coming from Melanie's bedroom for what seemed like hours.  Suzie checked
her watch, and saw that it was two-fifteen.  They'd been in there for an
hour and a half.

   Neither girl could really comprehend what was going on.  It had been
very quiet at first.  Neither girl had felt like talking.  Both were trying
to imagine what was happening behind that door.  Then a dim "Ohhh fuck" had
drifted to their ears, making both of them perk up.  It was obviously
Melanie's voice.  They looked at each other.  It had gotten quiet again.

   Ten minutes later, there had been more noises, and it had been basically
noisy ever since, in a muted sort of way.  If they'd have turned on the
stereo, they couldn't have heard it but, like people who drive by an
accident scene, they couldn't help but pay attention to it.

   There was suddenly a much louder wail.  Tiffany actually stood up.

   "What's going ON in there?" she asked, breathlessly.

   "I don't know," said Suzie weakly.  She had no trouble imagining Bobby.
She'd seen him undressed lots of times.  She'd seen Melanie nude too, but
she just couldn't manage to put both of them in the same scene.

   Tiffany sat back down, almost gingerly, like she was sore.  "Do you
think it just happened?" she asked, her voice shaky.

   "What were they doing all this time, if it just happened?" asked Suzie.

   They listened to the quiet.  Almost as if someone was turning a radio up
very slowly, they heard Melanie's voice, softly at first, and then louder,
until they could actually hear her voice, and the words she was saying.

   "Oh fuck Bobby that feels so good!" came her alto tones through the
door. "Oh PLEASE don't stop!"

   Then, suddenly, it was quiet again.

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

   Bobby was having fun, really.  He wasn't turned on ...  not like when he
had sex with his sisters, or a woman he cared about a lot.  But watching
Melanie respond to what he was doing was like watching a child enjoying a
piece of candy you just gave her.

   He'd thought she was ready.  He hadn't eased into her like he had Paula,
because, with his fingers, he'd felt that she wasn't as tight as Paula had
been.  And he'd been right, in the sense that when he slid into her, she
didn't feel pain, exactly.  What she felt was the surprise and shock of
being filled and stretched.  She HAD been ready to be filled and stretched.
All those anxious hours of worrying ...  all that tension inside her ... 
all of that stopping, just when things were getting interesting, had left
her ready to rejoice when she finally felt what she'd dreamed about for
years.

   She'd been letting herself go for an hour and a half, though she didn't
reckon the time in minutes.  And now, in the middle of the best orgasm
she'd ever had, as she felt the completion of her goal, all the remaining
tension burst out of her in a wail of joy that it was finally over.  Then,
as he started moving in her, she realized it was just beginning.

   Basically, Melanie was as happy as she'd ever been in a long, long time.
She was very vocal about it, up until the time that Bobby knew she was
getting too loud.  Then he ran his arms under her shoulder blades, gripped
her shoulders, scooted his knees up so he could use just his abdominal
muscles, and sealed his lips onto hers.

   His belly muscles began a rapid tensing and relaxing, and he made
rabbit-like strokes that left Melanie flopping helplessly in his grip, her
arms bouncing on the bed, and her heels doing the same thing as his sides
pushed her thighs toward her head.

   Her pussy told him when she came.  It squeezed and pulsed as her slack
mouth let what would have been shouts and groans out of her lungs.  He kept
going until her shouts turned to moans, and then whimpers.

   Then he stopped, deep inside her, and let her recover.  He still gripped
her, though, and she was still helpless in that grip.  Her pussy still
fluttered, but weakly now, and she gave all her energy to just breathing.
He lifted his head.  Her eyes were closed.

   "You want more?" he asked.

   Her eyes fluttered open.

   "You're not human," she panted.

   "Sure I am," he said, kissing her chin.

   Her stomach felt sore from the muscles there cramping.  It wasn't a bad
sore, and she knew it would fade away quickly.  She knew if she stopped
now, she'd wish she hadn't, later, but still she gave up.  "I think I've
had enough," she huffed.

   Bobby was in that special place that a man sometimes finds himself,
where he feels like cumming ...  would like to cum, even, but knows that it
would take a lot of work to get there.  In those times, it feels wonderful
to stroke your prick into soft pussy, because you know you can go forever,
and make that wonderful feeling last.  In truth, if there had been only one
woman, he would have stayed with her long enough to let her recuperate, and
then enjoy getting to the point where he’d spurt in her.

   But there wasn't just one woman.

   He let his hands relax their grip on her, and moved them so that he
could rise from her breasts.  He scooted his knees back, and slowly
withdrew his still rock hard prick from her pussy.  She sighed as he did
so, and lifted her head to watch it come out, as if she couldn't believe it
had really been in her.

   "You're so hard," she sighed.  "I thought it got all soft when you were
done."

   "I didn't cum," he said.

   "You didn't?" Her voice rose.

   "I'm used to going longer," he said.

   "You're not human," she sighed again.

   "Are you on the pill?" he asked.

   "Yes."

   "Good girl," he said.  "Maybe later we can do this again."

   "I could sleep for a week," she moaned.

   "I guess you can," he said, grinning.  "You OK?"

   "I'm wonderful," she sighed.

   "I'm glad you had a good time," he said.  He gave her a quick kiss on
the lips.

   Her hands leapt up to his head and she held it as he pulled away.

   "Thank you," she said.  There were tears in her eyes.

   "My pleasure," he said, kissing her again.

   She watched his hard body get covered again as he dressed.  She realized
she was lying there, her legs spread, totally naked in front of this man
she'd only known for a few hours.

   She just didn't care.

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

   Suzie and Tiffany had sat there, straining to hear something again. 
Both girls tended to hold their breath, and then let it out with a whoosh
and a gasp, as new air was taken in.  When the door opened, both jumped.

   Bobby walked out, looking perfectly normal.  Both girls stared at his
face and then instinctively through the open door.  They could see
Melanie's naked legs and thighs on the bed, but then the door blocked their
view as he closed it.  Had they looked at his groin they'd have seen the
bar of his cock, lying under his jeans, but they didn't look there.

   "Be right with you," he said, as if he had just gone in that room to get
something, and would hand it over in a minute.  He disappeared into the
bathroom.

   Tiffany stood up again, watching Melanie's door, waiting for her friend
to come out.  Nothing happened.  The door stayed closed.  She turned to
look at Suzie.

   "Is she OK?" she asked.

   "How should I know?" Suzie replied.

   "Should I go see?" Tiffany sounded worried.

   "If you were her, and you were OK, would you want somebody barging in on
you right now?"

   "I guess not." Tiffany sounded disappointed.  She looked around, and
then picked up her wine glass, which had been refilled after lunch and
brought to the room, but not touched since then.  She lifted it to her lips
and drained it in one long series of gulps.

   Suzie looked for her own untouched glass, and did the same thing.

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

   Suzie sat alone in the living room.  She finished her third glass of
wine since lunch.  Tiffany's room was right next to Melanie's.  Both of
their bedroom doors faced the living room, which, if a normal family had
lived there would have been a living room and dining room.  The girls had
two couches and two overstuffed chairs, hand me downs, and used all the
space as a living room.  A wall with a door in it separated the dining room
space from the kitchen.  There was a hallway that led to the bathroom and
Suzie's bedroom, which was in the back of the house.

   She noticed that the sun was going down, based on the slanting sunlight
coming through the windows across from Melanie's and Tiffany's bedrooms. 
She looked at her watch.  It was four-thirty.

   Bobby had stayed in the bathroom half an hour.  They both understood why
when they heard the shower going.  Of course he'd take a shower afterwards.
That made them both feel better, even though Suzie had no intention of
getting naked with her brother.  Then he had come out, fully dressed, and
walked over to Tiffany, holding his hand out to her.

   She had darted a look at Suzie, and then at Melanie's door.  Sounds that
couldn't be anything but pleasure had come through that door.  She was pale
when she stood up ...  but she stood up.  Without a word, she led him to
her room.

   They'd been in there for an hour now.

   So far, all Suzie's straining ears had heard had been little yipping
sounds.  Then, almost suddenly, there was a loud female groan.  Suzie got
up and went back to the kitchen.  She opened the third bottle of wine.  She
and Tiffany had drunk a whole bottle by themselves.  She felt tipsy, but
that was OK.  It actually helped a little.  She carried her glass back into
the living room, wondering why she was staying in there in the first place.
Melanie's came out of her room suddenly, just as another loud moan came
through Tiffany's door.  Melanie was in her robe again, her hair tousled.
Suzie thought of the term "well fucked" and, for the first time, really
understood what it meant.

   "Is that for me?" asked Melanie, looking at the wine glass Suzie was
holding.  She sounded like she'd just gotten up from sleeping.

   "Sure," said Suzie, holding the glass out to her friend.

   Melanie took a strong sip, not quite a swig, and swallowed it with
relish.

   "Girl, you are in for a treat," she sighed, looking at Suzie.

   "I am?" squeaked Suzie.

   "Ohhhh yeah," sighed Melanie.

   There was a louder yipping noise through Tiffany's door.

   "It sounds like he's killing her," said Suzie.  "You sounded like that
too!"

   "He can kill me like that any time he wants to," said Melanie, looking
at the wine in her glass.  She took another sip.

   "You're not serious!" said Suzie, feeling tension making her body stiff.


   "We should have done this years ago," said Melanie.  "I'm going to the
kitchen to get something to eat.  I could hear them through the wall, and
it was making me horny.  He's good, Suzie.  I'm telling you I never thought
I could feel like that."

   "He's good?" said Suzie weakly.

   "He's worth five times what we're paying him," said Melanie.

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

   Tiffany would have happily agreed with Melanie, had she heard what had
just been said.  Tiffany might have said he was worth even more than that.

   Tiffany had entered her teenaged years as a gangly girl, with lots of
metal in her mouth, and very little flesh on her chest.  The braces had
eventually come off, but her breasts hadn't grown all that much.  To make
matters worse, everything that she wished would go to her chest went to her
butt instead.  She had no way of knowing how many men stared lustfully at
that bubble butt.  She grew her hair long, because it covered her face that
way, when acne made her want to stay in bed under the covers.

   That had eventually cleared up too, and Tiffany turned into a normal,
average, nice looking girl physically.  Her mind, however, never quite
caught up with her body.  She'd always thought of herself as plain and
uninteresting.  She was the kind of girl who sat in the chairs along the
wall at school dances, maybe talking to another girl like herself, and
remained mostly invisible.  She didn't really ever figure out that it
didn't need to be that way.

   The first thing that affected her attitude about the relationship
between herself and the world was when she was rushed by the sorority she
had eventually joined.  She couldn't believe those girls ...  those
popular, glamorous girls ...  wanted HER to join their sorority.  The fact
that she later found out they wanted EVERYONE to join their sorority didn't
discourage her at all.  It simply illuminated the fact that it wasn't
actually predetermination that resulted in girls like her having lives like
she'd had.  It had rocked her world, and she'd come mostly out of her
shell.

   The second thing that rocked her world was Bobby Dalton.  It wasn't that
Tiffany didn't want experience with boys as she grew up.  She just hadn't
had much.  It was a vicious cycle, in a way.  A boy would ask her out. 
When it wasn't fun for some reason, instead of analyzing what had gone
wrong, she just pulled into her protective shell.  Initially, when she was
just starting to explore boys, the problem was that the boy was as
terrified of making a mistake as she was.  So they basically ignored each
other.  That fed her self image that she wasn't interesting.  On her next
date ...  well ...  she just wasn't very interesting.  When asked a
question, she answered in as few words as possible.  She rarely looked at
the boys she was with.  She was distracted because she was terrified.  Boys
would only try so many times to overcome the fact that she didn't seem
interested in them.  Then they asked a different girl out.  When that
happened she just took sanctuary in her room, and didn't go out for a
while.

   But when Bobby Dalton took her hand, and she went to the only place in
the house that was a real sanctuary for her - her room - she wasn't
ignored, and she couldn't ignore him.

   He hadn't said a word.  Instead, he'd just gone behind her and put his
arms around her, with his hands on her stomach.  She'd been able to hear
him smelling her hair, taking in deep breaths and rubbing his face into her
hair.  He'd kissed her neck, something no boy had ever done.

   She'd closed her eyes, waiting for it all to fall apart.  His hands had
slid up to her breasts, which were naked under the tank top, instead of
being encased in their normal thirty-two inch bra.

   For the first five minutes, she just stood there, unbelieving, as a
man's hands explored, and squeezed and played with her breasts.  His hands
dipped down, to go under the shirt and slid back up to rub them skin to
skin.  It felt so wonderful that she felt like she was in a dream.

   When he pulled the shirt up she stood helplessly, her arms raised, and
let him make her topless.  He turned her, and he bent to suck at her
nipples for another five minutes.  She tried to watch him, at first ... 
tried to see what was making her feel so good.  Eventually she just closed
her eyes and looked up at nothing, concentrating on the feelings that were
coursing through her body.

   Two things made this entirely different for her.  First ...  she wasn't
being required to talk.  Second ...  the pleasure distracted her from
thinking about what was going on, and how it might suddenly go wrong.

   She felt like she was being eaten alive.  That feeling was only
intensified when he laid her on the bed and, still without talking, removed
her shorts and panties.  She was paralyzed at the time, unable to help or
hinder him in any way.  He was still clothed, but his lips roved all over
her body, even down her legs to her toes.  When his nose teased her pubic
hair, her knees had jerked, all by themselves, as if he'd hit some button
that was connected to the muscles and nerves.  The jerk of her knees spread
her legs slightly.

   Nobody had ever given her oral sex.  Things had never even gotten far
enough for that to be an option.  But now a man’s lips were fastened
to her sex, and his tongue pushed into her virgin pussy.

   It almost destroyed her.

   She ended up almost sideways on the bed after what her brain told her
was an orgasm, and her body told her had been a thoroughly delicious
beating.  And when, as she lay limply, gasping to get her breath back, he
stood up and almost magically became naked, she was helpless again.  Her
eyes jittered in their sockets, trying to look at every part of his body at
once.  Her eyes had settled on his penis only because it came towards her
head, which was lying on the edge of the bed.

   Unbelieving, she felt the tip of that penis rub across her lips.  Her
tongue flicked out without conscious thought, exploring with a mind of its
own.  She knew what he wanted, but she'd never even THOUGHT about doing
that before.  It was like riding in a rocket ship.  She knew it could be
done, but the thought of HER doing it had never crossed her mind.

   But her mouth opened, and he teased the tip into it.  The sucking
impulse that had caused her to feed as a baby welled up in her, and she
sucked at that tip, her lips sealed in something that was like, but more
than a kiss.

   His "Mmmmmm" electrified her.  No man had ever made a sound of
appreciation because of something she'd done to him.

   She sat up and moved, ending up sitting Indian style, naked, on her bed,
and stared at him.  He was smiling.  He was just standing there ... 
smiling.  His penis was rigid ...  pointing right at her.  She had never
had the opportunity to examine one.  And this one, she had actually tasted.
Almost in slow motion, she leaned forward, falling onto her hands as she
got her knees under her and she crawled, ever so slowly, toward him.  Her
examination was hurried, because she had an impossibly strong urge to taste
him again.  Her eyes were riveted to that penis as she got closer to it,
and opened her mouth.

   Like someone who was tentatively tasting a new food, she simply pushed
her open mouth over the end, and then let her cheeks and tongue press
against it.  She didn't suck.  She just experienced the feel and taste of
it in her mouth.  He stood stock still.  Other than that one "Mmmmmm" he
had yet to say a single word.

   Her tongue moved first, exploring.  Then, saliva collecting in her mouth
made her swallow, which required that her lips and cheeks flex, as her
throat muscles worked.  Those lips and cheeks clamped down on the thing in
her mouth.  Now she sucked, instinctively.

   "Ahhhhhhh" he moaned.  His fingers came to slide through her hair.

   It was uncomfortable being on her hands and knees, because she was above
him, and had to bend her neck down a little to get to him.  Without letting
him out of her mouth, she sat and rotated her legs off the bed, ending up
sitting on the side of the bed, his prick still firmly in her mouth.  Her
head was still too high, and she slid off the bed as he shuffled his feet
back, to let her kneel in front of him.

   That was perfect.

   Her hands went to his butt, and her mind registered dimly that the warm
flesh under her fingers was hard as a rock.  So was the thing in her mouth.
She sucked and again instinct made her move her whole head so that, while
she sucked, that column of flesh slid deeper into her mouth.  The feel of
it moving on her lips was delightful, so she moved away.

   Within five minutes of first putting any part of a penis in her mouth,
Tiffany was engaged in a purely instinctive blow job that was as good as
any Bobby had ever been the grateful recipient of.

   Passion that had been stuffed into little boxes, which had been crammed
into a dark storage space in her brain, began to strain the seams of the
boxes.  Her passion leaked out first as little mewls of happiness.  Tiffany
had no way of knowing she was a born cocksucker, or that it could be SO
much fun to do this.  She didn't think about any of that, though.  She just
had fun doing it.  Then she had more fun doing it, until she was making
constant noises, whining, humming and otherwise being vocal in her
appreciation for getting to do this.

   When he stopped her, her sounds were of disappointment and unhappiness.

   Her nonverbal appreciation for what she’d done commenced again as
his lips went back to her nipples and pussy, until she was panting with
need.

   He did the same thing with her that he'd done with Melanie.  Once she
was thoroughly in the midst of an orgasm, he nudged the tip of his prick
between her pussy lips.  He knew immediately that she was tighter, and that
he could not just push in, like he had with her roommate.  He pushed enough
to get her attention and then stopped.

   Her eyes fluttered open and he could see that she felt his pressure.

   "Are you ready?" he asked.  His voice sounded loud.

   Her hands reached for his head and, as he kissed her lips for the first
time since entering the room with her, he pushed.

   She produced a different set of sounds, a yipping sound that went
through two octaves as she was penetrated for the first time.

   Again Bobby felt almost disconnected from what he was doing to the girl.
Her responses were gratifying.  He was having fun making her happy.  That
she was obviously having a good time was important to him.

   But there was no bond ...  no feeling of deep and abiding affection or
love.  He was enjoying this in the same way he enjoyed working hard, and
doing a good job.  It was enjoyable.  It was successful.

   But it wasn't love.

   He took her through three orgasms, almost laughing at the way she
sounded a little like a coyote.  In the end, she was happy and satisfied.
That made him happy and satisfied.  There was no impulse to fertilize her,
no need to pack her womb with his sperm.  When he pulled his still hard
prick from her satisfied pussy, she had a dreamy look on her face, and did
not object as he got dressed, and left the room.

   Chapter Twenty-one



   Suzie and Melanie were in the kitchen making supper.  Tiffany's wails
had driven Suzie from the living room, and into the kitchen, where Melanie
had already taken refuge.  The closing of Tiffany's door made Suzie turn,
and she saw Bobby cross her line of vision.  He was going to the bathroom
again.  She knew that if she went to the bathroom door, she'd hear the
shower.

   "You're next," said Melanie, cutting up the head of lettuce that had
been in the crisper.

   "No." Suzie's response was automatic, heartfelt, and automatic.

   "You have to," said Melanie.

   "No." Her voice was dull, almost defeated.  The feelings the sounds
she'd heard that day had generated something deep inside her that she knew
would overpower her if given a chance.  She wasn't going to give them that
chance.

   "We're paying for three," said Melanie.

   "You can have my turn," said Suzie.

   Melanie turned around.  Suzie saw Melanie's eyes look past her and
widen. She turned to see Tiffany, looking thoroughly fucked, dressed in the
same shorts and tank top, almost skipping toward them.

   Tiffany, it turned out, was energized by great sex.

   "Oh MELANIE!" she squealed.  She almost ran to her roommate and hugged
her, turning her in a full circle.  Then she switched to Suzie, gripping
her and swinging her around.  "Oh SUZIE!" she moaned.  "You're in for SUCH
a good time!"

   "No!" gasped Suzie.

   "She doesn't want to do it," said Melanie, folding her arms across her
chest.

   Tiffany pushed Suzie back, gripping her shoulders with her arms stiff
and straight.

   "You HAVE to!" gasped Tiffany.

   "You can have my turn." Suzie's voice quivered as she tried the same
thing with Tiffany she'd offered Melanie.

   "OK!" said Tiffany.

   "NO!" said Melanie loudly.  "It's not fair!"

   Tiffany turned, beaming.  "OK, I'll share him with you."

   "That's not what I meant, Tiffany!" said Melanie heatedly.  "She
deserves her chance.  I was scared too.  We can't let her chicken out!"

   "You don't understand!" whined Suzie.

   "Yes we do," said Melanie, suddenly using a soothing tone.  "Tiffany was
scared too." She looked at Tiffany.  "Weren't you, Tiff?"

   Tiffany blinked.  She nodded.  "I was!" she admitted.  "But I'm not any
more.  It was WONDERFUL, Suzie!"

   "I know that!" snapped Suzie.  "A DEAF person could have heard how
wonderful it was!" She turned to Melanie.  "For BOTH of you!"

   Melanie's cheeks tinted pink, but she didn't turn away.  "Well, then you
have to try it, Suzie.  Don't let being afraid rob you of a really great
time."

   Suzie knew that the only way she would be able to explain it to them was
in the way that would ruin everything.  It would ruin it for her, but more
importantly it would ruin it for Bobby.  It never occurred to her that she
could simply say something like: "Guys, I have a sort of surprise for you.
I'm really glad you guys had such a good time.  See, Bobby is actually my
brother.  Isn't that funny?  I mean I'm glad you had fun, but you can
clearly see why you need to take my turn."

   It could have been one of those embarrassing things that make for such a
great tale later in life, but she didn't think of that.  All she thought of
was that confessing her relationship to the man who had so thoroughly
fucked these two women, would ruin everything.

   "I can't do that with a man I don't know," she tried.  "I know what
you're saying, but I just can't do it with a stranger!"

   A male voice cut through the conversation, stopping it in its tracks.

   "It's getting late, and I have a long drive ahead of me anyway." Bobby
had come into the room, and none of them had noticed it.

   Melanie wasn't giving up that easily.

   "You weren't supposed to be at our house until tomorrow," she said. 
"That means Paula was going to put you up somewhere tonight.  You can just
stay here.” She turned to Suzie.  “That will give you time to
get to know him, Suzie."

   "It's not necessary," said Bobby.  He was trying to help his sister.

   "Yes it IS!" insisted Melanie.  "It will keep you from having to drive
home tired." She couldn't imagine he wasn't just dog tired.  SHE was ready
for bed already, even after a nap, and HE had done most of the work!

   "If I start home now, I'll be fine," he said.

   "We paid for three," said Melanie, her voice getting heavy.

   "Nobody's paid anything yet," said Bobby.  "Paula was gone when I got
here."

   "We have the money," insisted Melanie.

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

   In the end, it had been Bobby who'd broken the stalemate.  He suggested
that he and Suzie have a little private chat.  She took him outside, into
the evening air.  It was chilly, so they didn't take long.

   "They're not going to give up," said Bobby.

   "You're not fucking me, Bobby!" she said stridently.

   "I know that," he said.  "But they don't have to know that."

   "What do you mean?" she asked.

   "We'll tell them that I'll just sleep in your room tonight.  You can say
that will give you time to get to know me, and decide whether or not to do
it.  I'll say that either way is fine with me.  We'll get a good night's
rest, and they'll think we did it and everybody will be happy."

   Suzie frowned.  She couldn't see any flaws in his plan.  Sleeping with
him didn't bother her at all.  They'd fallen asleep in the car together, or
on the couch together lots of times.  And, it seemed like a way out of her
dilemma.

   "OK," she said.

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

   Melanie and Tiffany went to bed early that night.  Both of them felt
compelled to kiss Bobby good night.  He smiled.  Suzie frowned.

   Left alone, Suzie still didn't feel like she could speak plainly.  Her
roommates were just on the other side of doors that clearly were too thin,
based on her earlier experience.  It was for that reason that she suggested
they go to bed early too.

   She wasn't thinking about the fact that, once in her room, they'd have
to get ready for bed.  It was an interesting situation, because it was
complicated.

   On the one hand, Bobby was as completely familiar as anything else in
the room.  For another, she trusted him completely.  That was why, when she
got to her room, she just got ready for bed, like she would have any other
night.  That meant taking her clothes off and putting on her favorite
oversized T shirt, which had a picture of Mr.  Natural on the front, his
oversized feet striding forward while the rest of him leaned back.  Under
his image were the words "Just Passin' Through".

   On the other hand, though, her mind was in turmoil.  The image of "sex"
in her mind, up until that day, had been a somewhat foggy impression of two
naked people pressed against each other.  It had been a silent movie, of
sorts, with somewhat grainy texture.  Sitting in the living room and
listening to her roommates verbalizing their obvious joy had added a sound
track to that silent movie.  Seeing both women emerge from their rooms,
looking so obviously happy and satisfied, had made the pictures in her head
less grainy, and infused color into them as well.

   In short, the images in Suzie's head had now turned into images of
Bobby, naked, pressed up against any number of women she knew, including
her sisters.

   She had just settled the shirt around her hips when she looked to see
Bobby standing up, his pants in his hands.  He was naked.

   "What are you doing?!" she gasped.

   "I didn't bring anything to sleep in," he said.

   "Why not?" she asked.

   "In this business, you don't NEED anything to sleep in," he quipped.

   She didn't take it as a joke.  While Bobby might not have seen himself
as a gigolo, Suzie's view was much different.

   "You can't sleep with me like that," she said.

   "Why not?" he asked.  "I'm not going to do anything to you."

   "I know that," she said.  "It's just that ..."

   She didn't know how to finish that comment, because she wasn't at all
sure how she felt about things.

   "You've grown up a lot," he said.

   Her mind wobbled.  Why had he said that?

   "What are you talking about?" she asked.

   "When you were changing," he said.  "You've filled out really nicely."

   "You looked at me?" Her mind whirled.

   "Of course I looked at you," he said.  "You're a good looking woman."

   That actually helped settle her thoughts.

   "You say stuff like that to all the women, don't you?" she asked.

   "If it's true," he said.

   For some reason her eyes dropped to his penis.  She didn't have a lot of
experience with them.  His didn't look completely flaccid, like the ones in
her textbooks.  But it obviously wasn't hard either.  His testicles seemed
larger than normal.  She noticed clinically that he was uncircumcised.  Her
eyes took in other features.  He was in good shape.  He was obviously
eating right.  She could see, on a clinical basis, why women found him
attractive.

   "Men always lie to women to get what they want," she said.  "You don't
always tell the truth."

   "I always try to," he said.  "I try never to lie to a woman.  I might
not tell her everything I'm thinking, but I try never to lie."

   "Do you want to have sex with me?" she asked, thinking that would
illustrate how men lied.

   "Yes," he said.

   She blinked.  Was he saying that because he really wanted to ...  or
because that's what he thought she wanted to hear?

   "I don't want to have sex with you," she said.

   "I know that," he replied.

   "So why did you say you want to have sex with me?" she asked.

   “Because you asked me,” he said.  He smiled.  “And
because it's true,"

   "Oh." This wasn't working out very well.

   "Why do you want to?" she asked, curious despite herself.

   "That's complicated," he said.  "I love you, for one thing."

   "How can you say that?" she asked.  "You know I don't want to do that,
and when you tell me YOU want to do it only makes me all nervous.  Why
would you want to make me nervous if you love me?"

   "How is lying to you going to help you?" he asked, instead of trying to
answer her question.  "And if you didn't want to know the answer, why did
you ask me the question?" he added.

   She was frustrated.

   "Let's just go to bed," she said.  "Don't touch me, OK?"

   "Got it," he said.

   Which was why he was so surprised when, after he got into bed on his
back, she cuddled up to him, putting one arm across his chest.

   "What are you doing?" he asked.

   "Getting comfortable," she said.

   "I thought I wasn't supposed to touch you."

   "You're not," she said.

   "Oh," he said helplessly as she burrowed her head into his shoulder.  "I
understand completely." Sarcasm was heavy in his voice.

   "Good," she said.  One of her knees came up to lie on his thigh.

   It was quiet for a while.

   "Damn," she said.

   "What?"

   "I forgot to turn off the light."

   "Want me to get it?"

   "No," she sighed.  "I'm comfortable.  I can sleep with it on.  Can you?"


   "I guess so," he said.

   "OK."

   It was quiet for a while longer.

   "Bobby?"

   "What?"

   "I love you."

   "I love you too, Baby."

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

   The wine got her to sleep, but it didn't keep her asleep.  She had
strange and disturbing dreams.  In one of them Bobby was wearing Melanie's
robe.  His penis stuck out from between the front folds.  In another she
was chasing Bobby.  He was naked, and kept yelling "No!  Suzie no!" In
another Melanie was singing a cowboy song that included the phrase "Yippee
I-O-Ki-Yay, ride along, little doggies," and she was naked, swinging a
lasso around and around her head.  The lasso streaked out to fall around
Suzie's arms, pinning them to her sides.  She saw Bobby coming towards her,
grinning, with a red hot branding iron in his hands.  The branding iron was
a big "D" and she knew he was going to press it to her butt.  She had a
pistol in her hand, but she couldn't bring it to bear on Bobby to stop him.
That one woke her up.

   She calmed instantly.  There was no lasso.  Bobby was right here, next
to her.  He was warm and comforting, not hot, like the branding iron.  She
still felt the pistol in her hand and came alert as she realized something
hard WAS in her hand.  With something like shock, she realized it was his
penis.

   The first thing she did was listen for his breathing.  He was asleep. 
Then she tried to decide what to do about her hand.  She decided not to let
go.  She spent a minute or two trying to figure out WHY she had decided not
to let go.  She couldn't, so she quit thinking about it.

   She concentrated on the feeling in her hand.  She'd never touched a
penis before.  Clinically it was fascinating.  So soft, and yet so hard. 
She was feeling a marvel of evolution.  There were all kinds of blood
vessels that went into the penis.  At a time like this, some of them were
enlarged, letting more blood in, and some of them were constricted, letting
very little blood out.  She knew how it worked ...  clinically.  But the
feel was anything but clinical.  She held her breath and squeezed gently,
trying to feel a pulse.  It was there!  Where her fingertips lay on the
underneath part, and to one side, she felt the gentle swell and release
that signified his heart, pushing blood into the organ.

   She felt the need to move, and pushed her knee farther across his thigh.
With an electric jolt her pussy came into contact with his thigh.  Her hips
pushed of their own volition, pressing, almost rubbing.

   She had started masturbating when she got to college.  That had begun as
a clinical examination of her own body.  It had gotten WAY out of control
as feelings flooded her brain.  She had sought an orgasm, just to see what
one was like, only to find that she had discovered something addictive. 
Since then, she used masturbation as part of her stress control program. 
Running started the release, and masturbating after a run finished it.

   When she masturbated, her orgasm was a destination, with a clearly
marked trail leading to it.  She could tell when it was going to happen. 
Everything was predictable.

   But this felt different.  This felt like she was in the wilderness
somewhere, with no path of any kind.  She knew that if she pressed and
rubbed, something would happen, but she also knew it wouldn't be like
anything she had felt before.

   He moved in his sleep.  Her pushing had disturbed him.  She realized she
was squeezing his penis tightly too, and relaxed her hand.

   She wondered what she was doing.  She didn't want this.  Did she?  With
something like a feeling of dread she realized she DID want this.  She
liked this!  She liked feeling this close to someone.  To be able to press
her pussy against a warm thigh ...  to hold an erection.  That erection
could be hers.  All she had to do was wake him.  He'd already said he
wanted her.

   She thought about that.  Why did he want her?  Why had he wanted her
sisters?  Why had he wanted their mother?  And why had so many of them
wanted his baby?  They must have wanted it.  There were too many ways to
prevent getting pregnant.  She ran down the list in her mind, while her
hips continued an unconscious subtle rubbing against Bobby's thigh.

   She thought about Mary.  Mary had been almost a second mother to her. 
She was older, wiser, stable.  And yet, Jordan had to have been conceived
while Mary was engaged to Harry.  Jordan was obviously Bobby's. 
Christopher was just as obviously Bobby's, and Bev had been planning on
getting married too, when she must have been conceived.  Linda had tried to
be sly about it, but Randall looked too much like Bobby to be anyone
else's. Her younger sisters had given birth less than a year ago.  Suzie
had only seen the babies a couple of times, but one look at Joseph was all
it took.  They hadn't even pretended to be interested in getting married,
though, so that put them in a different category.  That category also held
their mother, which was just too strange to think about, though looking at
Theodore was like looking at Bobby's baby pictures.  And Prudence.  That
Kyle was Bobby's made no sense, but it had to be true.  That meant
Katherine was his too, since they were twins.

   She counted.  Five of her six sisters had lain with this man.  The penis
in her hand had made babies in them.  She knew Flo had gone to his room at
night too, even though she didn't think Star had resulted from that.  And
there was her mother and Prudence, and the rumors about other women in the
community.  He had never denied it.

   She couldn't understand it.  Why so many women?  Why did so many of
those women let him get them pregnant?  It didn't make any sense.  It
wasn't logical.

   "What?" His voice was in her hair.  She hadn't heard him wake.  She
realized her hand was squeezing his penis tightly again.

   "Nothing," she said into his chest.  "Go back to sleep."

   "I can't," he said, his voice stronger.  "Not while you're doing that.
Why ARE you doing that?"

   "I don't know," she said.  She really didn't know.  And yet, even when
he was awake, she didn't let go.

   "You're horny," he said.

   "No I'm not," she argued.

   "You're rubbing your pussy on my leg," he pointed out.

   "No I'm not," she said, as she felt her hips give another gentle push.

   "Move," he ordered her.  "I'll be back in a minute."

   "I'm comfortable," she objected.  "Where are you going?"

   "I'm going to go masturbate," he said.  "I won't be able to get back to
sleep unless I do."

   She felt like she should be shocked, but she wasn't.  He was too sexual.
She felt a giggle trying to well up inside her as she thought of him as one
giant penis.

   "Do it here," she said.

   "It's messy.  I don't think you'd like that."

   "I'm so comfortable," she complained.

   "You can get comfortable again," he said.

   He sat up, dislodging her.  It made her very unhappy.  She watched his
naked back as he left the room.  He had so much muscle!  She decided to
masturbate herself, while he was gone, and had just slid a finger inside
herself when he came back in.  He had a washcloth in his hand.  His penis
was impossibly long.  It looked like some kind of weapon.  She jerked her
finger out of her sexual slot.

   "You don't have to stop," he said calmly.  He reached and flipped off
the light.

   She was blinded.  Her pupils were still too constricted to see anything,
even though she knew some light was coming in through the window.  She felt
him get back into bed.  He lay on his side, facing her.  She felt him lay
the cloth on her leg.

   "What are you doing?" she asked.

   "You wanted me to do it here," he said.

   "That was before you moved."

   "Sit up.  Take your shirt off," he said.

   "Why?" Her finger was just at the top of her split.  She had been just
about to slide it back in.

   "I want you naked," he said.

   "Bobby!" she moaned.

   "Don't worry," he said.  "I'm just going to help you get back to sleep."


   "How?"

   He pulled her up.  She was sitting on her shirt, but his strength
overcame that.  She was surprised she was letting him do it as her arms
went up and he pulled the shirt off of her.  His hand came to the point
right between her breasts and pushed gently.  She fell back.

   It felt different instantly as he settled in, with his chest pressing
against her right arm.  HE wasn't touching her anywhere else, but the
sheets were.  She felt naked in a way she had never felt naked before.

   His hand came to her arm, and he slid it down to find her fingers lying
on her pubic hair.  He pushed her hand down.

   "Go ahead," he said.  "You want to get back to sleep.  I'll help you."

   The tension in her was what made her do it.  She began stroking herself,
feeling weird for doing it while her brother was right beside her.  She was
completely unprepared when he leaned down and sucked one of her nipples
into his mouth.

   "Uhhhhh!" she groaned, feeling streaks of something delicious jet from
the nipple throughout her body.  Her hand froze.

   He let go of the nipple.  "Keep going," he said.

   She did, and he sucked again.  It was incredible how different this was.
She was amazed at how the increase in pleasure was exponential, instead of
being just multiplied.  She felt his body begin to move, and realized he
was stroking himself.  She felt his hand hit her hip, and then the feel of
something else, smoother.  She realized his penis was touching her as he
masturbated.  That added another tactile sensation to the mix, and she felt
her body begin to build toward a climax.

   He moved, rising on his elbow, so he could reach the other nipple, and
her body rolled toward his almost automatically.  She couldn't masturbate
with her left hand, and she ended up rolling on top of her right arm, which
limited her movement.  His lips on her breasts felt too good, though.  She
tried doing something differently, rubbing her finger sideways, across her
clitoris, and then added another finger.  That felt good, but she needed
penetration to have that orgasm.

   "Ohhhh," she moaned, complaining.  "I can't cum this way."

   His movement stopped.  His penis fell against her thigh and lay there.

   "Let me," he said, lifting his mouth from her nipple.

   She thought he meant to take her virginity.  She felt the wild urge to
let him, but pushed at that frantically with her mind.  His hand came to
hers, passed it and, as her legs betrayed her, opening for him, he slid a
long, thick finger between her labia and into her body.

   Her hips arched up at the unfamiliar, but delightful feeling of
something longer and thicker than her own finger going into her.  At the
same time his lips came back to pull and chew at a nipple.

   "OHHHHHHHH," she gasped.  The orgasm was there!  It was upon her like a
lion leaping onto a lamb!  She couldn't have fought it off with all her
strength.  Her body shook, and she rolled to lie flat on her back again,
spreading her legs further, her hips bucking.  Her roll had pulled her left
nipple from his mouth, but her right one soon felt the suction and she felt
like her body was breaking apart and flying outward.  The groan that rushed
past her vocal chords sounded harsh and hoarse in her own ears.

   His finger stopped moving, and it felt like his hand was gripping her
whole pelvis.  His lips gentled their sucking, until it was more like
little sucking kisses, than anything else.  The orgasm fell away almost as
rapidly as it had rushed upon her, and she relaxed.  She felt warm, like
she was in a bathtub of hot water.  She panted as if she'd just finished a
really good run.

   His finger left her, and she felt the loss instantly.  She almost
reached for his hand to put it back, but his body was moving again.  He
shook the whole bed for twenty or thirty seconds and she jerked as she felt
something warm suddenly land on her abdomen.  As she realized it was his
semen, more landed there, and then again until she felt like her whole
belly must be covered with it.

   As it happened he moaned, "Oh Suzie." She heard the yearning in his
voice, the urgent call that somehow made her feel like she was the only
woman in the universe, and that his love could wrap her in a protective
blanket that would touch her everywhere.

   He relaxed.  She realized why he'd said it would be messy, and then felt
him fumble for the washcloth he'd brought.  He brought it to her stomach,
and wiped the warmth away, smearing it at first, but then soaking it up
until she was mostly dry.  He was still panting when her eyes, now adjusted
to the dark, saw his arm movement and the white of the cloth flew towards
the door.

   "Better?" he whispered, lying his head down.

   She turned her head to face him.  She didn't know what to say.  She'd
had no idea anything could be like that.  Her mind was almost numb.

   "It's OK," he said softly.  "Just go back to sleep." His face leaned
toward her and she felt something else new as his soft lips pressed gently
to hers.  That was incredible too, because there was only gentleness in
those lips, and a sensation she could almost feel flowing from his lips
into her body.

   "I love you," he said.

   He adjusted, until he was lying mostly on his stomach, with his strong
arm stretched across her body.  His hand burrowed into her armpit and under
her shoulder.  His lips landed on her other shoulder and deposited a brief
kiss before going slack.

   She actually HEARD his breathing slow and take on the measured cadence
that meant he was asleep again.  Her mind calmed slowly as she tried to
examine what had happened from a clinical perspective.  She couldn't. 
There was nothing logical about what had happened.  She had never felt as
close to a human being as she had in those brief minutes.  She had never
felt as loved.  And, as impossible as it now seemed, she had never felt as
safe.

   As she closed her own eyes, she wondered if that was how her sisters had
felt too.

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

   When she woke next time, she couldn't remember any dreams.  He had
apparently rolled in his sleep, because he was on his back now.  She must
have rolled with him, because she was in the same position as she'd been in
before, except that her hand wasn't on his penis.  Her pussy was pressed
against his thigh, though, and she was wet.  She could feel it against her
skin as her hips moved.  She was ragingly horny.  She couldn't deny it,
even to herself.  She felt hot, and realized that, sometime in the night,
he had pulled the covers over them.  She kicked them off, and her leg
movement caused her clitoris to rub along his leg, sending an electric zing
through her belly.

   His arm was under her, and she felt it tighten as his breathing changed.


   "Again?" There was laughter in his voice.

   "Don't make fun of me," she moaned.  "I don't understand this."

   "C'mere," he said, reaching to pull at her shoulder.



   She couldn't believe the strength in his arm as she was pulled on top of
him, like a rag doll.  Her legs just naturally fell on the outsides of his,
which were closed.  She felt her pussy contact his penis and balls
immediately, and her hips jerked to rub her pussy against them.

   "We have to be careful this way," he said into her hair, his hands
smoothing all over her back.  Her breasts felt hot, crushed against his
chest.

   She lifted her head to ask him why, but couldn't because he kissed her.
This was no light peck on the lips.  It wasn't gentle in the way he'd done
before.  He crushed his lips to hers and his tongue demanded entry into her
mouth.  Her brain was outraged that he'd kiss her so intimately, but her
mouth opened to the demand and, within seconds, she couldn't think of
anything except the feel of his lips, and the feel of him against her
pussy.

   The kiss went on and on and she understood why it was dangerous, because
she felt him stiffen under her.  Soon her pussy was riding along a thick
column of hard flesh that felt so good it was indescribable.  She moved so
hard that she slipped up off of the tip, and it caught in her pussy when
she moved back down.  She froze.

   Bobby pushed her up.

   "I told you to be careful," he said softly.  "That's how Linda lost her
cherry."

   "Linda?" Suzie was having a hard time thinking straight.  The tip of his
penis was spreading her, stretching her.

   "She did it by accident, doing exactly what you're doing," he said.  His
hands came to her hips and pulled her up, toward his face.  The pressure
lessened ...  but so too did the wonderful feeling of almost doing
something her loins wanted badly.

   "OK," she panted.  "I'll do this instead." She began rotating her hips
in a circle, letting the big, round knob mash between her lips and rub her
clitoris.  That was fabulous.

   "Just be careful," he said.

   She was ...  at first.  She leaned down to kiss him some more.  She
loved the feel of his tongue in her mouth.  She couldn't believe it, but
she couldn't get enough of it either.  She felt the orgasm.  It was just
beyond reach.  She rubbed more violently.

   "Careful!" he mumbled into her mouth.

   "Oh Bobby," she gasped.  It was almost there.  It was so close she felt
like if her pussy lips could reach forward just a little, like tiny arms,
she could pull it into her.

   It was the orgasm itself that drove what happened.  She pushed, and was
spread, and the orgasm inched closer.  She pushed some more and suddenly
knew what was needed.  She would think about that many times in the future,
but right now she only reacted to what her biology craved.  Her body knew
what to do, even though she didn't think about it.  As the orgasm finally
broke over her she gave a grunting sob and pushed hard with her arms,
tilting her pelvis, somehow knowing that that would line up her vagina to
be penetrated.  Half his prick slurped into her.  She couldn't kiss him any
more, because she needed her mouth as wide open as she could get it, just
to breathe.  She felt the splitting pressure, but there was no pain
involved, only ecstasy as the more she got into her, the better the orgasm
was.

   "SUZIE!" he grunted.

   "OHHHHH BOBBEEEEEEEE," she whined.

   The orgasm exploded in her loins, and she wriggled, getting more and
more of the thick hard thing into her until the her spasming pussy relaxed,
between spasms, and her violent pushing pushed her all the way down.  Even
then her body knew that it could go deeper and as she cried out, her arms
pushed and she let her body weight impale her completely.

   She thought the heat that flushed her belly was part of the orgasm,
until she heard her brother grunt, and his hips lifted.  The tip of his
penis dug a fraction deeper and she felt pain for the first time as her
cervix resisted being pushed into her womb.  Another streak of heat
exploded in her belly and she realized that warm stuff he had spurted on
her belly was now being spurted IN her belly.

   Other women almost lost consciousness in this situation.  Suzie's brain
sought another protective device.  So suddenly that it seemed like magic,
she was of two minds.  Part of her brain let her enjoy the rest of her
orgasm.  The other part, so alert that she felt like she could solve any
mathematical problem in seconds, gave her the answers to all her questions.


   THIS was why her sisters had let him do this.

   THIS was why they didn't even care if he made babies in them.

   THIS was the thing her mother and Prudence had craved enough to bear him
children.

   To be able to do this ...  any time she wanted to ...  it was a drug,
and her mind screamed at her that she was on the verge of being completely
and helplessly addicted.

   At last she understood her sisters, and any other woman who had been
loved by Bobby like this.  Her mind calmed.  Her period had ended only four
days ago.  This wasn't dangerous right now.  She could enjoy it.  Bobby
would go home, and she would graduate, and then go to med school.  She
wouldn't see him.  She couldn't imagine feeling like this about any other
man.  It would be all right.

   Then she banished all her logic, and concentrated on feeling what was
happening.

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

   Melanie was making pancakes when Tiffany shuffled into the kitchen.

   "Finally, somebody else is up," she said.

   Tiffany just grinned.  "I never slept that good in my life," she said.
She looked around.  "Suzie's not up?"

   "I thought I might find her sleeping on the couch," said Melanie.  "Go
wake them up.  Breakfast is almost ready."

   Tiffany went to Suzie's door.  She knocked.

   "Go away!" came Suzie's voice through the wood.

   "Breakfast!" called out Tiffany.

   "Don't bother us!" yelled Suzie.

   Tiffany had to summon up more self control than she thought she had in
her to keep from opening the door.  Finally she turned and ran for the
kitchen.  She was panting by the time she got there.

   "Come here!" she whispered to Melanie.

   "What?"

   "Just come listen!"

   The two girls went to Suzie's door.  Suzie's moans were clearly audible.


   "One more time, Bobby," they heard her tortured voice rasp.

   Her wail of completion, as she had another one of those unbelievable
orgasms, combined with the rhythmic banging of her headboard against the
wall, drove the two young women from the door.  Both of them were damp
between the legs when they reached the kitchen, and giggling like little
girls.

   On the other side of the door Suzie continued to wail, this time with
her brother hunched over her, driving his penis into her with punishing
strokes.

   "I shouldn't cum in you!" he barked.  "You should have gone on the
pill!"

   "One more time!" she gasped.  "Just let me feel it one more time!" Her
hips urged him on, slamming up against his.  "I'm safe right now, Bobby. 
Just one more time."

   "Famous last words," he groaned.  He couldn't resist.  He pressed deep,
and flushed her full of what she wanted.

   Chapter Twenty-two



   Bobby's eyes watched the road, but his mind was elsewhere.  He wasn't
happy.  Oh, it had been fun.  There was no doubt about that.  But what had
happened had felt empty, at least in terms of what had gone on with Melanie
and Tiffany.  And while his time with Suzie had been wild and passionate,
what he felt about that was that it had been too dangerous.  He loved her,
and because he loved her, he shouldn't have let her have her way.  He felt
like he should have been strong enough for both of them.  There was too
much at stake in her future to have chanced it.

   He felt the lump of money in his pocket.  It would finish the barn. 
That was good.  It was needful.  But he wasn't proud.  He felt like he had
done something wrong, somehow.

   He thought about Misty.  He would, most likely, never be able to see
their child; not in any meaningful way.  He was sure she'd be a good
mother, but he knew what it was like to have no father.

   He drove on.  He wasn't used to being frustrated.  He wasn't used to
feeling like he couldn't hold his head up.  He wasn't used to feeling like
he was spinning his wheels ...  going no place ...  doing things that
accomplishing nothing that he could view as positive.

   He didn't like it.

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

   Agatha finished her preparations for supper.  Michelle had had to teach
her to cook, which had made her feel foolish, at first.  Now, with Michelle
gone to a meeting of a club she belonged to, Agatha decided it had been
worth it.  She had prepared a good meal for George.

   She felt like she owed them much more than she could ever repay.  They
had welcomed her, and given her what amounted to a completely new start in
life.  She had a place to live, good friends, and a job that she was proud
of.  George's business was in better shape than when she'd gotten there,
and she had a part in that.

   She called him to the table, and they sat to eat together.

   "Can I ask you a question?" George held a hot roll in his fingers. 
Agatha figured it must be something important if he was more interested in
her answer than the hot roll.  He loved her hot rolls, and that was
something she was proud of too.

   "Sure," she said.

   "I've never mentioned this before," he said.  "It was really none of my
business.  But I can't stop thinking about it."

   "Go ahead," she said.

   "Why didn't you just go on the pill?"

   She thought about that.  He hadn't asked her why she was foolish enough
to get involved with a man and then let him between her legs.  He wasn't
asking who the father was, or why she had left him.  There was nothing
judgmental in his question.

   "My friends ..." She paused.  "The women I thought were my friends had
sources of information in the medical profession," she said.  "They didn't
know what I was doing.  They would not have approved of ...  who I was
seeing ...  and they would have found out if I got a prescription.  They
would have asked about it."

   "You wouldn't have had to tell them anything," he suggested.

   "You don't understand the culture in that town," said Agatha.  "There
were the decent folks, and the undesirables.  If they'd have found out who
I was seeing, I'd have been shunned."

   "Did you like him?"

   It was the most personal question he'd ever asked her.

   "He changed my life," she said.  "He helped me see things from a
different perspective.  I would have wasted away there.  I WAS wasting away
there.  He's the one who suggested I get a job ...  spread my wings."

   "He wanted you to leave when he found out you were pregnant." George
sounded angry.

   "He doesn't know I'm pregnant," she said.

   "You're joking!"

   "Try to understand, George.  I didn't love him.  I mean I wasn't in love
with him.  Even so, I'll never forget him.  He was one of the best things
to come into my life, almost ever!  Even if he'd wanted to marry me I
wouldn't have.  It would never have worked.  Not in that town."

   He was quiet for a while.  He ate the roll, and reached for another.  He
buttered it, and then spoke again.

   "Sounds to me like it was good you left.  That's no place to try to make
a life.  Even with things the way they are, I think you'll be fine.  I
wouldn't have believed that when you first got here, but I do now.  You're
a good worker.  We love having you here, and I'm not just saying that
because I'm your brother."

   Agatha got up, pretending to do something at the sink.  Her six months
pregnant belly was beginning to get in the way, but she didn't mind.  She
wiped at her eyes surreptitiously.  The baby moved in her belly and she
tried to calm herself, thinking she had upset it.

   "Thank you," she said, not looking at him.

   She thought about what he'd said, later that day.  It was a Tuesday, by
chance, and the day that she volunteered at the Library, reading stories to
the raft of young children whose mothers brought them to the library where
they sat, enthralled, while she read silly stories, in silly voices, and
had the time of her life.  The children loved it, and so did their mothers,
who were free to take a break from being Mom, and wander through the aisles
finding some treasure between two covers of cardboard.

   As she walked from her car to the library entrance, she thought of what
things might been like had she stayed in Granger.  If she hadn't met Bobby,
she might be preparing for tea with two horrible old harridans who only
found pleasure in the dismissal and degradation of others.  If she'd stayed
after meeting Bobby, she'd have been an outcast, one of the people being
denigrated by women like Ethyl and Gladys.  She would be one of "those
women" by now.

   She looked down at her swollen belly.  She would soon have her own baby.
She loved it already.  In secret, she read the baby inside of her stories
too, and sang songs to it.  It wasn't a bad thing.  It was a delightful
surprise ...  a present waiting to be unwrapped.  She didn't care that
there was no man to help her raise it.  George would be a terrific uncle.

   And, for that matter, there was no guarantee that there would be no man
to be a daddy to her child.  She had been amazed at the number of men who
approached her, at the library and elsewhere, even though she was pregnant.
She had seen some of those men look at her ring finger, which was bare, and
THEN approach her!  All of them were friendly, and some flirted.  One even
sat, sometimes and listened to the stories, with the children.  His name
was Jim, and she could think of no reason why he would listen to stories
about bunnies, or trains that could talk, or families of bears.

   She pulled open the door of the library, just as a man came out.  He
looked at her face before his eyes slid to the proof that she was a sexual
being, and then back up.  He smiled.

   "Morning," he said.

   "Good morning," she replied.

   Others greeted her with smiles as she went to the story area.

   She had nothing to do until the children arrived.  She let them pick the
books she would read to them.

   While she waited she reflected on how much better her life was now ...
how leaving Granger had been one of the best things that ever happened to
her.

   She also thought about why she'd had to leave, and how, just perhaps,
that was THE best thing that had ever happened to her.

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

   Bobby tamped down the last of the disturbed earth with his foot.  April
was gone.  That was all right, though, because on the first of May, he
could start moving himself and the twins into the barn.  It was finished.
The dirt he was tamping down covered the new sewer line, and was the last
thing required before the barn could become real living quarters.

   His mind drifted over what had been accomplished in a month and a half.
Prudence and Connie had been indispensable.  They were good enough at
sheetrock and painting that they could open their own finishing business if
they wanted to.

   The twins were ecstatic with the rooms that would be theirs.  Their new
bedroom was twice the size of their old one in the house, and the nursery
had a connecting door, which made taking care of their children more
convenient.  The kitchen was the envy of Mirriam, who had been hinting that
the one in the house should be that modern.

   He sighed.  He supposed that would have to be the next project, after
the rooms he and the twins had been using were spruced up and gotten ready
for boarders.  They had plenty of time for that.  It would be another month
before the researchers showed up.

   Constance came out of the barn.  There was a smudge of paint on her
cheek, and her painter's overalls were spattered with four or five colors
from the project.

   "Done!" she said, smiling.  "It's really beautiful in there, Bobby."

   "Because of you and your mother," he said, smiling.

   "You built it," she said.

   "You helped," he countered.  "And you finished it."

   "You owe me dinner," she said, changing the subject.

   "I owe you a lot more than dinner," he sighed.

   "Better be careful," she teased.  "I might collect one of these days."

   He looked at her.  Her eyes were sparkling.  He reached out and scraped
the paint off her cheek with a fingernail.  "I'll pay," he said.

   Her eyes got serious.  "Don't say that if you don't mean it," she said.

   His eyebrows rose.  "What do you mean?"

   Her face changed again.  "Never mind.  I'm starved.  That will do for
starters."

   "I can't take you out looking like that!" he said, grinning.

   "Well then, I'm going home to clean up.  Pick me up in an hour," she
said.  "I'm expecting something fancy."

   "Yes Ma'am," he said, bowing to her.  "I'll order onion rings with your
burger.  I'm going all out tonight!"

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

   Two hours later Constance looked across the table at Bobby.

   "They don't serve onion rings here," she said.

   He had taken her to Wichita, to Coreno's, a little Italian restaurant
where the cook spoke Italian much better than English.

   "You want to leave?" he asked, smiling.

   "No," she said firmly.  "I'm going to order something obscenely
expensive."

   "No problem," he said.  "I can wash dishes with the best of them."

   "I'm not washing any dishes tonight," she shot back.

   "That's OK.  You can stand by me and hum that tune you were humming on
the way up here."

   "What tune?" she asked.

   "The one you hum all the time," he said.  "It sounds familiar, but I
can't quite place it."

   "I don’t hum that all the time," she said.

   "Yes you do," he argued.  "You hummed it while you were working on the
barn, and in the house before that.  Just about anyplace we go, if we
aren't talking, you're humming, and you hum that tune a lot."

   "I'll try to stop bothering you," she said dryly.

   "It doesn't bother me.  I like it," he said.  "What is it anyway."

   The look she gave him was somewhat intense, but then her face relaxed.

   "It's just some old thing I heard on the radio one time.  I guess it
stuck in my mind.  That's all.  I didn't realize I hummed all the time."

   "You do, and it makes you sound happy, so don't stop," he said.

   She got that intense look in her eyes again, but then looked down at her
food.  She started eating again.

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

   The food had been good.  It was dark, and there wasn't much traffic on
the road.  They had been comfortably silent for ten minutes.

   "Hey," he said.

   "What?" Connie's voice was soft in the semi-dark of the interior of the
car.

   "Can I ask you a question?"

   "Of course," she said.

   "It might bring up painful memories," he warned.

   She knew then that the question was about Tim.  "Go ahead," she said.

   "What was it like?" he asked, and then explained.  "To be in love, I
mean."

   "What was it like to be in love with Tim?" she said.

   "Yes."

   "That's a very odd question, Bobby."

   "It's just that I'm not sure I know what it feels like to be in love,"
he said.  "I mean I love a lot of people ...  but how do you know when
you're IN love with somebody?"

   She was quiet for long enough that Bobby felt uncomfortable.

   "You don't have to answer it," he said.  "I shouldn't have brought it
up."

   "No, it's OK," she said.  "I was just trying to figure out how to
describe it."

   "Oh." He waited.

   "It was a lot of things," she said finally.  "I loved being with him.  I
couldn't wait until he got home from work, just so I could be in the same
room with him.  I loved the way he looked at me.  I loved touching him.  I
loved all kinds of little things he did.  Like he had this way of standing
in front of the mirror and combing his hair.  It looked perfect, but he
kept fussing with this one little tuft of hair that would never behave.  I
loved his sense of humor.  We liked most of the same kinds of movies, and
stuff like that.  But I think most of it was because, once we were
together, I couldn't imagine us apart again.  Even when he was gone, it was
like I could feel him ...  like there was a string or something that went
through the air and connected us."

   She sat for another few seconds.

   "That was why I hated it when he joined the Army.  He was so far away
that I didn't feel like we were connected any more.  I missed him so much.
It was agonizing.  I didn't feel complete any more."

   Out of his peripheral vision he saw her wipe at her eyes in the dark.

   "I'm sorry," he said.  "I shouldn't have brought it up."

   "He's gone, Bobby.  I know that now.  At first I kept trying to believe
there had been some horrible mistake ...  that he'd swapped his dog tags
with some friend.  He was superstitious.  Did you know that?"

   "No," said Bobby softly.

   "He did all kinds of silly things that were supposed to bring him luck."
She sniffed a couple of times, and her voice got stronger.  "When I finally
realized he was really gone, it felt like something had been ripped out of
inside me.  But it's better now.  I try to remember the good things.  I
know he loved me up to the very minute he died.  Sometimes I feel like he's
watching me ...  watching over me, really."

   "Is that why you never fell in love again?" he asked.

   She looked over at him in the dark.  "It was hard enough the first time,
Bobby.  I never thought I'd meet a man who would really love me for who I
was.  Then I did, and he died.  You think I want to go through that again?"


   "I guess not," he said.

   "Well you're wrong," she said.

   "Huh?"

   "It was all worth it, Bobby.  All the pain and all the loss was still
worth the time we had together.  That's what being in love is like, Bobby.
Being in love makes all the hard stuff worth it, even if you only get to
feel that way for a little while, like me.  I'm sorry he's gone, but I'll
never be sorry I loved him."

   He was quiet for a long time, as he tried to understand what she'd said,
in the context of his own life.  He loved his mother.  He loved his
sisters. He felt what he thought might be love for most of the women he'd
been involved with.  But that was more just caring about their happiness.
It didn't involve his own.  Not really.  He was happy when they were happy
...  he liked it when they felt good, because of something he said, or did.
But none of them made him feel what Connie had described.

   He felt lonely, driving down the highway, even though there was another
woman he cared deeply for in the car with him.  He hadn't known what to do
for Connie.  When she had needed something the most, he knew it was Tim,
and he couldn't do anything about that.  Even now he didn't know what to do
to help her.  It made him feel helpless, and frustrated.

   She started humming that tune again.  It was SO familiar!  He knew he'd
heard it somewhere.  He just couldn't put his finger on it.

   Even so, it calmed him a little.  She sounded happy.  He didn't
understand how that could be, based on what she'd said.  He HOPED she was
happy ...  at least part of the time.

   Chapter Twenty-three



   Suzie's graduation was, of course, a joyous event.  She was graduating
summa cum laude, both because of her grade point average and because she
earned her bachelor's degree in three years, rather than the usual four. 
That meant more to Suzie and her academic family, than it did to her
genetic family, but they knew it was important.

   Mirriam was almost flighty with pride and excitement.  Prudence told her
several times to act her age.  Mirriam stuck her tongue out at her best
friend, and then giggled like a school girl.

   It took four cars to get all the well wishers to Manhattan.  All her
sisters and brothers-in-law went, and Bobby, of course.  Prudence and
Constance went as well.  With all the babies, toddlers and older children,
they made a noticeable crowd.

   The only real opportunity for disaster, as far as Suzie was concerned,
was averted when she explained to her roommates that her entire allotment
of tickets had been used up by her family, so there were none left for
them. It turned out that Melanie had to work anyway, so Tiffany said that
was fine.  Suzie didn't tell them that everyone was going out to eat
afterwards.

   Even so, another of Suzie's friends came up to talk to her and showed
obvious interest in Bobby.  When she found out he was Suzie's brother, she
lit up.

   "I've heard SO much about you!" she said.  "Suzie just goes on and on
about what a wonderful big brother you are."

   Bobby looked at Suzie, who was blushing.

   "In a moment of weakness I might have exaggerated your worth as a human
being," she said, trying to sound casual.

   "What are you doing after graduation?" asked the girl, staring at Bobby
with bright eyes.  It was obvious she hoped he'd say he wasn't doing
anything.

   "I'm here with family," he said.  "I think we're going out to eat, and
then I have to get back home."

   "Awwwww," she said, staring at him.  "That's really too bad." She
brightened.  "Well, if you change your mind, just tell Suzie.  She knows
where to find me."

   She wandered off and Bobby turned to find Constance standing right
beside him.

   "My, my, but aren't you all popular," she said, glancing at the
retreating young woman.

   Bobby couldn't keep the blush from his face.  He tried to cover for that
by joking.  "I can't help it if I'm irresistible."

   Constance looked up at him, apparently missing the mirth.  "No ...  I
suppose you can't."

   Then she turned around to go talk to Bev.  On the way she picked up
Christopher, who was trying to get his mother to hold him, and pretended
she was eating his neck.

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

   Paula French sat, all but invisible in the sea of other young people,
dressed in caps and gowns just like her own.  Her parents were over in
section K of the auditorium, also invisible in the assembled throng.  They
were proud of her again.  The unplanned trip home during spring break had
mended fences.  Paula insisted that Millie had jumped to conclusions.  She
was careful to say that Bobby had done nothing to her on their New Year's
Eve date.  She freely admitted that she had used bad judgment in getting
drunk, and listened as the lectures were given.  She apologized for getting
frustrated with Millie and going to stay in the bed and breakfast.  It was
easier to just listen as her parents droned on and on about the dangers
that were in the world.  It was safer just to nod and smile and say she'd
learned a lesson.

   She HAD learned a lesson, really.  She'd learned that when a woman is
confident in her own sexuality, she has a measure of control over the men
she dates that is very comforting.  Upon her return to school, she'd talked
to Melanie, who was effusive about Bobby's visit.  She assured Paula that
her other two roommates were just as happy about it.  Paula had listened to
the details Melanie provided, and had been a little miffed that she had to
miss out on the good time.  She'd already been out on several dates since
then, and she was happy with the way they'd gone.  She hadn't had sex with
anybody yet, but the idea of it no longer made her so nervous.  Now it was
something to look forward to, assuming she met a man who made her want to
engage in that activity.

   Soon she would climb the steps to the stage and walk across it.  Then
she would go start her new job, meet new men, and forge a life that her
parents didn't necessarily need to know all the details of.

   The announcer's voice caught her attention with the word "Dalton".  She
looked up to see a young woman shaking hands and receiving a ribbon-tied
roll of paper.  She looked familiar.  Paula tried to place her, but
couldn't.  She thought it was interesting that, while she was thinking
about Bobby Dalton, another person named Dalton would graduate.  She
wouldn't have thought that Dalton would be such a popular name.  Then the
woman walked on and Paula's row had to stand up, in preparation to make
their own trip across the stage.

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

   Suzie sighed.  Everything seemed to be going well.  She'd already
crossed the stage, shaken hands, and received the roll of paper that
represented her diploma.  Now all they had to do was go out to eat, and
Bobby would be gone back home, and the threat of exposure would be gone
with him.

   The announcer called Paula French's name.  With horror, Suzie watched
the young woman cross the stage and shake the same hands Suzie had just
shaken.  How could she have forgotten about Paula?!  It was Paula who had
brought Bobby to Manhattan in the FIRST place!

   She didn't know what to do.  She tried to think of some course of
action, as the remainder of the class got their diplomas, but couldn't come
up with anything.  Then the graduates rose all around her, shouting and
laughing.  Some threw their caps in the air.  People streamed in every
direction.

   Her family members knew where she'd been sitting, and they struggled
toward her, weaving through the throng.  She saw Bobby moving chairs out of
his way, coming toward her.  She looked frantically for Paula, but couldn't
find her in the sea of moving people.

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

   Paula was moving slowly in the direction of section K when she saw Bobby
Dalton moving chairs out of his way and striding directly toward her.  She
couldn't believe he'd come all the way here just so see her graduate!  Part
of her exulted that he'd want her that much.  Then panic set in.  Her
parents were probably working their way toward her too.  She made a snap
decision and lurched toward Bobby.

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

   Suzie looked away from Bobby and her eyes saw Paula just as the girl's
face registered shock and dismay.  Suzie felt so weak that she sat down on
a chair.  It was over.  There would be a scene.  People would stop and
stare as Paula screeched her disgust.

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

   Paula almost ran to Bobby, moving chairs herself, to get to him.

   "You shouldn't have COME!" she gasped.  "You have to LEAVE!  My PARENTS
are here!"

   Bobby's face registered surprise.

   "You have to get OVER me, Bobby!" said the excited young woman.  "I made
up with my parents.  If they see you here it will ruin everything!"

   Bobby struggled to adapt to the situation.  He decided to just go with
the flow.

   "Where are they?" asked Bobby, looking around.

   "That way, I think." She pointed.

   "You go that way," he said.  "I'll go the other way."

   "Yes!" she yipped.  "Thank you.  Thank you for everything ...  but you
have to go!"

   "All right," said Bobby.  "Go on."

   Paula watched as he turned, and then rushed in the opposite direction.
She relaxed as she saw that her parents had stayed in their seats, waiting
for her to come to them.  When she got there she put on a bright smile.

   "I'm starved.  Let's go!"

   She led them toward an exit.

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

   Suzie looked up, her eyes fearful.  Bobby was gone!  Paula was gone too!
She stood up and looked around.  Linda crashed into her and hugged her.

   "What's wrong?" said Linda.

   Before Suzie could say anything, Florence was there, hugging her too. 
Suzie's eyes jerked around.  She saw Bobby sitting in a chair.  He had
apparently turned aside for some reason.  Her eyes searched for Paula, but
she was gone.

   Then the others were there, and it was too hectic to do anything but
respond to them.  Eventually Bobby was there too.  He was smiling, like the
others.  Nothing seemed to be wrong after all.

   She didn't understand, but she relaxed anyway.

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

   With Suzie and supporters, there were twenty-five people, when they went
out to eat.  They basically took over a German restaurant in the little
town of Ogden, which was squeezed between Manhattan and Fort Riley, the
Army post that was responsible for the German restaurant being there in the
first place.  The meal lasted for hours, but nobody cared.  Everything
seemed right in the world.

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

   Mirriam hugged Suzie one last time before she got in the car to go home.


   "When are you coming home?" she asked.

   Suzie shrugged.  "My job keeps going until the end of July.  I should
have a couple of weeks between then, and when I have to be in Kansas City
to find someplace to live and start med school."

   "I don't get to see you any more," complained Mirriam.

   "I'll come see you," said Suzie.  "According to Bobby, my old room will
be rented out anyway.  Where will I stay?"

   "We can put you in the barn," said Mirriam.  "You just get there, and
let us worry about that.  I'm so proud of you!" she squealed.

   "Thank you, Mamma," said the only Dalton who had ever gone to college.



   Suzie looked around for Bobby, wanting to hug him goodbye, and saw him
getting something out of the trunk of his car.  It was a diaper bag and he
handed it to Betty.

   "I miss you," she whispered in his ear.  "I'm horny all the time now,
and it's all your fault."

   "Find yourself a boyfriend," he said, squeezing her.

   "I don't have time for that," she pouted.  "Besides, I'm leaving here in
a couple of months.  Mamma wants me to come home for a visit before I go to
Kansas City.  She says I can stay in the barn.  That's where your room is
now ...  isn't it?"

   He pushed her back, and his eyes narrowed.  He looked around before
speaking.

   "Are you on the pill yet?"

   "No," she said, her voice tiny.

   "You'd better be if you're planning on staying in the barn," he said.

   She smiled.

   "OK!"

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

   It was in the morning, a week later, when a full sized Chevy van pulled
into the yard at the farm.  Five people got out, and removed suitcases from
the back.

   Mirriam and the twins were there, waiting.  Mirriam showed Jeffrey
Hamilton to Bobby's old room, which the man had requested.  It was at the
head of the stairs.  He said he didn't mind going down the hall to the
bathroom.  Randy and Wanda both claimed they didn't need any help.  They'd
been there before, and claimed the two rooms at the end of the hall, with
the newly built bathrooms in them.  Betty ended up with a young woman named
Jennifer, and put her in Flo's old room.  That left Matilda to take care of
another young woman who introduced herself as Candy.

   Jeff was in his role as the professor, and yelled for all of the grad
students to just put their suitcases in the rooms, and then get back to the
van.  Within half an hour after their arrival, the van was leaving again,
on its way to the research site, fifteen miles away.

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

   Jeff had already warned Mirriam that they'd get back late.  They were
all dusty and dirty too, so by the time they got cleaned up and sat down at
the table, it was already seven.  She had planned accordingly.

   The Dalton's dining room table was at least fifty years old.  It had
been a work of art when it was first made, but had been owned by several
families.  The inevitable dents and scratches had been dealt with by
Bobby's loving attention, once the B&B idea had been accepted.  The
table had three leaves, and would seat fourteen when all three leaves were
installed.  Two leaves were in at the moment, primarily to make room for
the two high chairs that were needed.  The original set of chairs only
numbered ten.  That had been sufficient for the family, and still served to
accommodate the ten people gathered around the table.  Theodore had
graduated from a high chair to a regular chair, even though he had to sit
on a box Bobby had made for him, to reach the table easily.  Joseph and
Veronica, now almost eight months old were in the high chairs.  Mother's
milk was still their primary diet, but that was being supplemented with
solid food too.

   Mirriam was used to cooking for a large family, so the only difference
was that there were new faces around the table as she set out bowls of
mashed potatoes, steamed carrots, and green beans.  Two pans of hot rolls
were split between ends of the table.  The huge platter of fried chicken
would have to be passed around.  The diners had their choice of lemonade,
iced tea or water.

   "Since you all are going to be living here, I want you to feel at home,"
said Mirriam.  “Part of that is feeling free to get up and get
whatever you need.  I'm not going to wait on you hand and foot." She
smiled.

   "Thanks," said Jeff.  "I feel bad that we're making all this work for
you."

   "You're paying for it," said Mirriam, smiling.  "I just want you to feel
like you can have whatever you want."

   "Whatever we want?" asked Candy, looking pointedly at Bobby, who was
sitting across the table from her.

   "Down girl," said Jennifer, who was also looking at Bobby.

   "Within reason," said Mirriam, dryly.

   "You're here to do research," said Jeff firmly.

   "Of course we are," said Candy, still looking at Bobby.  He seemed to be
very interested in his plate.  "And research we shall perform." she added.

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

   Bobby got the feeling at supper that he was somehow in hazardous waters.
Candy and Jennifer seemed to look at him a lot.  It was after supper,
though, that he knew he was in trouble.

   Both girls engaged him in conversation, obviously competing against each
other for his attention.  Randy and Wanda had disappeared somewhere, and
the professor was in the kitchen, where Mirriam was doing dishes.  The
twins had gone to the barn to let Veronica and Joseph suck.  Bobby wished
he was there as well, and not just because he'd get some mouthfuls of sweet
milk too.

   His experience with Melanie and Tiffany had left a faintly sour taste in
his mouth.  It wasn't that he didn't like them.  He did.  It wasn't because
it hadn't been fun breaking them in.  It had been.  But it also hadn't
meant anything, and that still bothered him.

   Now there were two other young women vying for his attention.  He didn't
have to have the experience he had to know that he could get either of
these women between the sheets.  It was obvious.  Part of his mind
evaluated whether he could get BOTH women between the sheets ...  at the
same time, like he had done with the twins.

   At the same time, he wasn't interested.  That was new to him, but he
didn't have time to reflect on that, because he had to use all of his mind
to try to get away from them.

   "If you ladies will excuse me," he said.  "I need to go collect eggs for
tomorrow's breakfast."

   "Need any help?" offered Jennifer.

   "Been doing it all my life," said Bobby.  "I can probably do fine on my
own."

   Jennifer's face fell.  She looked like she might pout any second.

   Bobby was saved when Professor Hamilton came into the room, and the
girls turned their attention to him.  It was obvious, at least to Bobby,
they were just hot to trot.  Apparently they liked older men too.  They
were flirting with their professor when he left the room.

   Bobby did collect the eggs.  He put them in the kitchen and then left,
to go to the barn.  Betty was sitting in the living room, topless, with
Veronica in her arms.

   "Good," she said.  "You're here.  She got sleepy and didn't eat much."

   "Wake her up," said Bobby, grinning.

   "She sleeps through the night now," said Betty.  "She'll be hungry in
the morning, when she wakes up.  I'll be in pain by then, though, if you
don't help me."

   "Where's Tildy?" he asked.

   "She's still feeding Joey.  He eats like a horse.  She won't need you
tonight.  If he keeps it up, she's not going to ever need you again."

   "Give her to me," said Bobby, reaching for his daughter.  "I'll put her
to bed."

   The transfer woke her up a little, and he patted her on the back while
she relaxed on his shoulder.  He hummed a lullaby to her while he put her
in her crib.  She blinked twice at him, and then closed her eyes.

   He found Betty in his room, lying on the bed.  She was naked, and was
already playing with herself.

   "Hurry," she purred.  "I need you for lots of things tonight."

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

   Bobby lay on his back, with is arm under Betty.  She had been wild
tonight, straining against him as she sought her release.  She loved to
have him suckle her.  She told him it made her horny just thinking about it
and said that even after she weaned Veronica, she was going to keep making
milk just for him.

   She'd wanted him on top, tonight, and asked him to let his weight down
on her as he strained to get as deep inside her as he could.  She'd had
four orgasms, to his one.

   Now, with her sleeping half on and half off of him, he stared into the
darkness.

   He loved Betty.  There was no doubt about that at all.  He loved making
love with her too, just like he loved making love with all his sisters. 
There was a closeness there that meant something, and reached deep into his
essence to make him feel good.

   But he wasn't IN love with any of his sisters.  When Mary didn't need
him any more, he hadn't minded.  It was the same with Bev and Flo and
Linda. They had found other men, and that was fine.  He was happy for them.
He knew that if the twins found men ...  or another man, which seemed much
more likely ...  he would miss this, but it wouldn't kill him.  He even
hoped they would meet some men who would sweep them off their feet.  They
deserved to be IN love, and their babies deserved to have a full time
father.  He could serve in that role here, at the farm, but it wasn't the
same as having a real daddy, and he knew that.  And he could never
acknowledge them as his son and daughter in public.

   In all the time that he spent seeing to the needs of the women in his
life, Bobby hadn't come to grips with his own needs.  He would have laughed
if someone had suggested that.  Only now did he sense that he was missing
something.  He was searching, and didn't know he was searching.

   He lay awake a long time, staring into the dark, before sleep finally
claimed him.

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

   June was a difficult month for two men in Granger, Kansas.

   Candy and Jennifer seemed to be in what amounted to heat.  They didn't
give up on Bobby either.  He was handy, and handsome.  Both women sensed an
aura about him of competence.  And when Bobby didn't respond, they simply
turned their attentions to Jeff Hamilton, who was the other handsome older
man available.  From their perspective, they were away from the university,
and the rules that applied there … didn’t here.  Randy was off
limits.  That was made obvious, both by Wanda's attitude, and the noises
that often came from one or the other of their rooms in the middle of the
night.  Those noises only inflamed the passions of Jennifer and Candy. 
They were away from school.  It was summer.  They had a chance to kick up
their heels, and they tried hard to do just that.

   Jeff wasn't interested either.  It was tempting, but much too dangerous
to his career.  If he'd known how they'd act on this project, he'd have
chosen other students.  What made it more difficult was that, while they
were on the job, they were studious and serious.  It was in the evenings
that they prowled.

   It was great for the twins.  Bobby spent much more time in the barn than
he would have otherwise, keeping away from the two young researchers.  It
was almost like old times, and they often slept with him together.

   But the novelty was waning too.  Like Bobby wasn't IN love with the
twins, they weren't IN love with him either.  They didn't think much about
that, because, to be honest, neither of them was pining to BE in love. 
Their life, as they thought about it, was just about perfect.  They had
family, and their babies, and a very competent lover, and that was just
fine.  Still, their passion wasn't quite as hot as it had been, and Bobby's
wasn't either.  Some of that might have been simply because they had kept
Bobby as a lover much longer, and on a much more frequent basis than any of
their sisters.  As absence can make the heart grow fonder, so also can what
becomes routine rob the experience of some of its glitter.

   In the house, it was a different matter entirely.  Jeffrey Hamilton had
the same needs as any man.  He was around two young women who would gladly
have met those needs.  That, however, was unwise in the extreme.  He had
given some thought to the twins.  Neither seemed to have a love interest,
despite the babies they carried with them constantly.  But they were his
hostess's daughters, and pursuing that line of thought didn't seem wise
either.

   There was only one other woman in the house.  She was a handsome woman,
and old enough to know her own mind about affairs of the heart.  Mirriam
was also intelligent, and a good conversationalist.  He discovered, quite
by accident, that there were jigsaw puzzles in the house, and that she was
quite willing to work on them with him.  She showed no interest in him ...
not the kind of interest he was beginning to have in her ...  but it was
pleasant sitting with her at the card table, talking about this or that. 
And it gave him an excuse not to be the center of attention for Candy and
Jennifer.  He felt astonishingly lucky that neither had any interest in
puzzles at all.

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

   Erica went into the building on the Hutchinson Community College campus
where the continuing education seminar she was supposed to attend during
the summer was being held.  Bobby had introduced her to Renee Harqart, who
was happy to watch Owen while she drove to Hutch every day for three weeks,
to take the class that would keep her teaching license current.

   That was important.  She wanted no one to have the excuse to do what she
knew most of them wanted to do - get her fired.  She had been having better
and better relations with her peers, after the musical, but it had all gone
sour when her pregnancy became apparent.  She had been horrified at the
prejudice displayed by both men and women she had thought were forward
thinking enough to accept her situation.

   It wasn't that they were mean to her.  It was just that they treated her
like the kids in school would have treated one of their own age, who got
pregnant out of wedlock.  They ignored her.  Sometimes, when she tried to
start a conversation, some of them simply turned around and left.

   Julia wasn't like that.  Julia had sorrow in her eyes, whenever she
looked at Erica, but it was sorrow FOR Erica.  She knew what was happening,
but had neither the authority nor mechanism to order people not to act that
way.

   She had other friends.  Jake and Tilly were wonderful, and they had
friends who Erica was introduced to.  So, after school, she could find a
social situation into which she fit, and could relax.  And Bobby was
wonderful.  He took care of her sexual needs when she had them, and was
perfectly willing to do something else with her when she wasn't in the mood
for that.  She classified him as the first real male friend she'd ever had.
But school was difficult and tense.

   She thought it was odd that the kids were more tolerant of her than her
own peers.  The boys still looked at her like males, but she had resigned
herself to that now.  The girls didn't seem to care at all that their
teacher was an unwed mother.  They'd have been cruel to one of their own,
but she was older, and that made a difference to them somehow.

   She found the classroom that was on the paper they'd given her.  She'd
already checked the roster, and had been relieved that none of the other
teachers from Granger were on the list.  At least no one here would know
her.  She'd be just another teacher, doing what they all had to do to keep
their certificates in force.

   The room was bright and cheery.  There were other women and a few men
scattered around.  Some of them glanced at her.  A few smiled.  It didn't
feel like the university she'd graduated from.  It didn't occur to her that
she was the one that had changed, instead of the environment.

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

   "Are you going to the 4th of July picnic?" asked Bobby.  He had been
lying on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, instead of the TV, where
Little House on the Prairie was playing.

   Constance looked up from the magazine she had been leafing through
during commercials.

   "I always go to the picnic," she said.

   "Would you go with me?"

   She peered at him.  "You mean like a date?"

   "Yes." He looked uncomfortable.  He rolled to face her.

   "What brought this on?" she asked.  He'd been coming over a lot,
recently.  He always said things like "Hi, I was in the neighborhood," or
"I wasn't doing anything.  Want some company?" He'd seemed like he wanted
to talk about something, but had never brought it up.

   "I need a date," he said.

   "Why?" she asked.  She felt like smiling.  That was silly.  Nobody
NEEDED a date for the 4th of July picnic.  Not in Granger.  You just went.
If there was somebody there you wanted to sit with ...  you did.

   He seemed frustrated, getting tense, and then finally slumped.

   "You know about those people that are boarding at our place all summer?"
he said.

   "Uh huh." She knew it was rented to some researchers, and that it was a
good thing for Mirriam, but that was about all.

   "This professor brought some graduate students with him," said Bobby. 
"Two of them are ...  women."

   That seemed funny to Constance too.  She knew Bobby as well as anyone
outside his own family.  She knew about the women Bobby had been with. 
She'd seen him with some of his own sisters.  It would never have occurred
to her that Bobby might be uncomfortable around any woman.  It wasn't funny
to him, though.  She could tell that.

   "So?" She waited.

   "They're kind of interested in me."

   Constance blinked.  Lots of women were interested in Bobby.  Bobby was
always involved with one or more women who were interested in him.

   "OK," she said carefully.  "That's never seemed to be a problem in the
past.  What's wrong with these two?"

   "Nothing's wrong with them," said Bobby.  "I'm just not interested.  But
they won't leave me alone.  They keep bumping into me, and pretending it
was an accident, and things like that.  One of them - her name is Candy -
says things like 'Try me, I'm sweet,' and stuff like that." He sighed.  "I
have to go to the barn to get away from them, or come here."

   Constance was confused.  This wasn't the Bobby she knew.  She put her
magazine down.  "You've been coming here to get away from them?"

   "Yup," he sighed.

   Constance's face formed into a frown.

   "I thought you came here because you like to be with me." Her voice
carried an edge that Bobby detected quite easily.

   "I DO like to be with you," he objected.

   "But only when you're running away from two college girls," she said.

   "That's not true, Connie.  You know that."

   Connie felt anger trying to bubble up in her, but she forced it down. 
The fact was that he HAD always been there for her.



   "So you want me to go with you to the picnic ...  as your date ...  so
these two girls will leave you alone?"

   He rubbed his face with his hands.  It muffled his voice as he said "It
doesn't sound very nice when you put it that way."

   "It's not, Bobby."

   "I'm sorry," he said.  "I just didn't know what else to do."

   Constance looked at him.  That he was handsome was old news to her. 
She'd been infatuated with him when she was seventeen.  She'd watched him
making love to her mother, and to some of his sisters.  He'd always been so
masterful with women.  They melted around him.  She imagined these two
women he was talking about, flirting with him and tried to imagine him
looking frightened.  She'd never seen him frightened.  She'd never seen him
in any time that he wasn't confident and strong.  It was ludicrous.

   She giggled.

   "It's not funny, Connie," he said.

   "Yes it is," she said, giggling again.  "Big, strong Bobby Dalton is
scared of two teenaged girls!" She laughed.  "Big, strong SEXY Bobby
Dalton, who's bedded half the women in this town, can't handle two little
girls!" She laughed harder and then tried to stop as he sat up, looking
angry.



   "I'm sorry," she said, covering her mouth to try to hide her smile.  She
couldn't cover her eyes, though, and they were smiling too.

   "No you're not," he grumbled.

   "Come on, Bobby.  Think about it.  OK, you haven't bedded half the women
in town, but still, you're very experienced with women.  It's just humorous
to think that you'd run from one, instead of what you usually do."

   "Is that all I am?" he said, his voice loud.  "Am I just a big penis
that women can have whenever they want it?"

   "I don't know about BIG." She tried to stop the giggle that followed
that, but couldn't.  She broke into laugher again.

   "Ha - ha," he groused.  "I'm glad you're having such a good time.  But
I'm not!  I thought you were my friend.  I thought you might want to help
me."

   Her laugher died as suddenly as it had begun.  When she took her hand
away from her face there was no trace of humor on it.

   "I am your friend, Bobby," she said.  "But asking me to pretend to be
your girlfriend, so you can avoid telling two girls you're not interested
in them isn't my idea of what a friend would ask another friend to do.  How
do you think that makes me feel, Bobby?"

   "I don't know," he moaned, flopping back on the couch.  "I'm sorry."

   She was silent for a few seconds.

   "You know you're hopeless," she said.

   "I am not." He sounded wounded.

   "Yes you are.  You'll probably boff those two girls anyway, even if I
pretend to be your date."

   "No I won't," he said firmly.

   "Yeah, right," she said.  "I know you, Bobby."

   "Do you?" he asked, leaning back again.  "I don't see how.  I don't even
know myself.  I did something ...  a few weeks ago.  I feel bad about it,
and I'm just now beginning to understand why."

   "What did you do?" she asked.

   "You remember Paula?" he asked.  "She's Millie's sister."

   "Oh, the girl you supposedly raped?" Constance's voice was stiff.

   "Oh," he said.  "You heard about that, huh?"

   "It's a small town, Bobby, and Millie was irate."

   "I know," he said.  "She didn't understand.  In fact, it was Millie who
drove Paula to ...  " He stopped.  "I mean that was why we ..."

   Constance bowed her head.  "Don't tell me you really did anything with
her."

   "It got complicated," he said.  "But she asked me to, honest."

   "You really ARE hopeless," she sighed.

   "No!" His voice begged her to believe him.

   "But you at least feel bad about Paula," suggested Constance.

   "No ...  that's not it," he moaned.  "I can't tell you now.  You'll hate
me."

   "I won't hate you, Bobby," said Constance, looking at him.  "You may be
hopeless, but I can't hate you."

   "You say that now," he said.  "Just listen.  I'm trying to explain this,
OK?"

   "All right," she said.

   "Paula was happy about the way things turned out," he said.  "Maybe she
was too happy.  When all that stuff happened, here in town, and Millie
started screaming about it, Paula kept telling her nothing happened.  But
Millie wouldn't believe it.  That's why Paula left there, and stayed with
us for a week." He sighed.  "Then, because she was being blamed for it
anyway, she got me to take her virginity"

   Constance interrupted.  "Why are you telling me this?"

   "I'm trying to get you to understand!" he said.  "Just listen, OK?"

   "OK," she said.  She didn't look happy, though.

   "Paula had these friends, in college, and I guess she told them about
it, and about how it wasn't all terrible ...  losing her virginity ...  and
they wanted me to do the same thing for them, and we were out of money for
the barn, but it had to get finished so the B&B could get a contract
for all summer and ..." He ran out of breath.

   "You CHARGED THEM MONEY?" squealed Constance.  She looked horrified.

   "They offered it," he said weakly.

   "You took money to have sex with them." Constance sounded like she was
in pain.

   "It wasn't the first time," he whispered.

   "What?  What are you talking about?" Constance's eyes bored into his.

   "Some of the women here ...  in town ...  kind of hired me ...  to take
care of them ...  help them."

   Connie knew about most of the women Bobby had lain with.  She'd seen
some of those women look at Bobby, and had seen what was in their eyes.  It
just didn't match with what he was saying.  She felt like her skin was
crawling, and looked at her arm.

   "It's not what you're thinking," he said urgently.  "Most of the time it
was because I just charged them for whatever time it took away from my job.
I couldn't just not work ...  and not get paid.  But then, later, I didn't
charge them any more."

   "This is too weird, Bobby," said Constance.  "I thought I knew you.  I
thought you were just horny all the time, and I know how you affect women."
She stopped.  "Did you charge my mother to have sex with her?"

   "No," said Bobby.  "She just needed to know she was beautiful, and
desirable.  I helped her understand that."

   Constance had thought a lot about her mother, and this man.  When she'd
seen them making love, and later seen Bobby with his sisters, she'd tried
to understand what was happening.  She had gotten an inkling when Bobby had
kissed her.  It had made her feel wild and crazy, but he hadn’t done
to her what he’d done to her mother and sisters.  She hadn't
understood until she and Tim had made love.  Then she could look back at
her mother's behavior, after going so long without a man.  She could
understand why her mother would like Bobby, and be attracted to Bobby and
want to DO that with Bobby.  What she'd never been able to understand was
why Bobby had wanted the same thing.  Now, with his simple comment, that
clicked into place.

   "You never took money from her?" asked Constance, wanting to believe
that was true.

   "Only for the jobs I did.  Never the sex."

   "Then I don't understand," she said.  "You said you charged some of them
for taking care of them."

   "Felicity hired me to escort her to her High School reunion," said
Bobby. "Chester wanted an heir.  He kind of asked me to seduce her.  He was
happy about it, and he knew we needed money, so after it was all over, he
gave me money.  He said it was to compensate me for all that lost work, but
it was way more than the time I lost."

   "That's not quite charging someone to have sex," said Constance.

   "OK, but the thing is that I got paid for keeping Felicity happy."

   "Wait a minute," said Constance.  "You said he wanted an heir.  She had
TWO babies, Bobby!"

   "I know," he said.  "I guess they liked the first one, and wanted
another."

   "And they kept paying you?" Connie was aghast.

   "Not really," he said.  "Unless you count Suzie's scholarship.  I don't
think that would have happened except that they ...  um ...  knew me so
well."

   "Are there more?" asked Constance, closing her eyes.

   "Um ...  yeah.  A woman named Janet hired me for ten or fifteen dollars
...  I can't remember, exactly, but it was to have sex with her best
friend, Rhonda, because she had a miserable self image." He looked hopeful.
"But the money was only because it would take time from my work," he said.
"And then that turned out pretty well, and Rhonda hired me to do the same
thing for Janet ...  because she was divorced and down on men."

   "People just don't DO that kind of thing, Bobby!" moaned Constance.

   "Some of the women I know do," he said.

   "Is there a point to all this?" asked Connie.

   "Yes!" he said, as if he'd just remembered it.  "Paula hired me to have
sex with her friends.  But when I did it, it was different.  Always before
I had felt like I really helped a woman.  But I didn't feel that way this
time.  It didn't feel right."

   Constance snorted.  "These other women.  My mother ...  Felicity Chumley
...  some of your sisters, and who knows who else.  Bobby you got them
pregnant!  You call that helping them?  You call that doing the right
thing?"

   "I didn't mean to," he said.  "Not really … well, except for
Felicity.  But, when it happened, that usually was OK too.  I mean none of
them hated me afterwards."

   "Why didn't you marry any of them?" asked Constance.  "I mean I know why
you didn't marry Felicity ...  and one or two other women I suspect you've
had sex with.  They had husbands.  And obviously you couldn't marry your
sisters, though I think Florence would have married you if she could have.
But the others.  They didn't have husbands."

   "They wouldn't marry me," he said.  "I even talked to most of them about
it.  Your mother wouldn't marry me," he said.

   "I know all about that," she replied.  "We talked about that."

   "The thing is," he went on, "that it used to be fun.  I liked it, and
they all liked it.  I mean it's fun to have sex.  You know that."

   Constance colored.  She remembered too well how much fun it was.  "I
do," she said softly.

   "And I love the babies too.  I helped make them.  I get to see most of
them, but they'll never call me Daddy.  They won't even know I'm their
father.  And some of them I won't even get to see at all.  I don't like
that.  It makes me feel empty inside.  And then, with those girls in
Manhattan ...  it was just for money.  I didn't make their lives any
better. I didn't help them with anything.  Only one good thing happened
because of it.  I still feel empty, though."

   "What good thing?" asked Constance.

   Bobby didn't want to tell her about Suzie.  She was already disgusted
with him, and that would only make things worse.  His mind sought
frantically for an answer.  When it came, it almost shocked him.

   "I found out I don't want to do this any more," he said.

   She stared at him.

   "I'm not a gigolo," he said.  "I don't want to BE a gigolo.  I want to
be in love, and raise my own kids, and just be a normal guy."

   "It's a little late for all that," said Constance.

   "I know," he said miserably.  "But that's why I want these two girls to
leave me alone," he said.  "I can't do this any more."

   Maybe it was because Constance had never heard Bobby ever admit defeat,
or say he couldn't do something.  Maybe it was the pain she heard in his
voice.  Maybe it was because she realized that he had, in fact, done a lot
for a number of women ...  had made their lives better ...  even if money
was involved.  He had done a lot for her, and she knew there was no money
involved with that.  For whatever reason, her heart thawed a little bit.

   "What am I going to do with you?" she asked.

   "Just don't be disgusted with me," he said, his voice quite serious. 
"You're the best friend I have, Connie.  I couldn't take it if you hated
me."

   There was a long pause, before Connie spoke.

   "OK ...  I'll help you."

   He sat bolt upright.  "You will?"

   She couldn't keep a smile off her face.  He sounded so pathetically
thankful.

   "This one time," she said.  "After that, you're on your own."

   "They're going to be here all summer," he moaned.

   "You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend all summer?" Her voice
rose.

   "I could pay you," he offered meekly.

   She was still throwing pillows, books and anything else she could reach
when he ducked out the door.

   "I'll call you!" he yelled through the door.  Something solid hit the
door and it shuddered.  He winced, thinking first about the mark whatever
it was had to have made on the door.  Then he wondered if he'd just screwed
up the only thing he could think of that would hold Jennifer and Candy at
bay.

   Chapter Twenty-four



   Erica looked across the table and wondered for perhaps the twentieth
time if she was crazy.  She examined the man, also for perhaps the
twentieth time.  He had sat next to her in class, and introduced himself as
Terrance Dotson.

   She remembered it all very clearly.  Her first reaction had been
automatic, and it was to ignore him.  She replayed it in her mind.  "You
can call me Terry," he said.

   She glanced at him.  He was smiling.  He was looking at her face, and
she waited for his eyes to slide down.  When they didn't, she thought of
Bobby, for some reason.  The man's smile faded and something in his eyes
told her he was disappointed by her frosty behavior.

   "Erica," she said, suddenly.  "I'm from Granger."

   The interest came back into his eyes like light into a dark room.  She
thought it was amazing that she could see that.  He didn't leer.

   "Been there one time," he said.  "I teach here, in Hutch, and I took my
class there to see a musical."

   "Really?" She was surprised.

   "Yeah.  I heard about how the kids had dedicated it to a couple of
handicapped guys, and I wanted my classes to see that.  I teach Social
Studies."

   "Me too," she said.

   "Really?" He smiled.  "Small world." They were still waiting for
something to happen, so he kept talking.  "So you probably know some of the
kids who put that show on, huh?"

   "Yes," she said.  She didn't know whether to tell him who she was or
not. She didn't want to sound like she was bragging.  "They're wonderful
kids."

   "You can say that again," he said.  "Because of them, my own students
have adopted a nursing home and the VFW in town.  They put together an
extra credit plan, and they go visit people with disabilities."

   "You're kidding!" she gasped.

   "Not at all," he said.  "They were really motivated by that musical. 
I'd like to meet the person who thought that whole thing up."

   "They volunteered," said Erica.  She was on autopilot now, just going
with the flow, because she had no idea how to proceed.  He obviously didn't
know she'd directed the musical.

   "Yeah," he said.  "I heard that, but somebody had to have the guts to
let them do it."

   "That was Julia, our principal," said Erica.

   "Well she's got balls." He stopped short, and closed his eyes.  "Sorry,"
he said.  "Sometimes I don't think before I speak."

   It turned out that talking to Terry was like that.  It was refreshing,
in a way, because he wasn't all wrapped up in crafting each and every
comment he made, to achieve a specific end.  He just said whatever was on
his mind.  Sometimes it was a little unsettling, but more often it tended
to lend itself to his credibility.  There was very little guile to Terrance
Dotson.

   Now, as she sat in a small restaurant, and examined the man, she
inevitably compared him to Bobby.  That had started as soon as class was
over for the day and he asked "You want to get a bite to eat?" A year ago
she would have assumed he was pursuing some plan to get her in bed.  She'd
thought the same thing about Bobby when HE had asked her if she wanted to
go get something to eat.  Of course thinking about Bobby was confusing.  He
HAD gotten her into bed.  She had to remind herself, occasionally, that
she'd had as much to do with the fact that they ended up having sex as he
had.

   "So, tell me about Granger," said Terry, breaking her train of thought.

   They'd already ordered, so there wasn't anything for her to do except
talk.  "There's not much to tell," she said.  "Chicago was driving me
crazy, and there was a position in Granger.  I went there.  It's a small
town."



   "There has to be more to it than that," he suggested, when she went
silent.

   "I support the women's liberation movement," said Erica.  She figured
she might as well get that established, right up front.  "Granger
isn’t exactly the bastion of equality.  I don’t fit in there
well.”

   "My ex-wife is a libber," said Terry.  There didn't seem to be any
censure in his tone, even though he used a nickname she found
objectionable.

   "Is that why you divorced her?" asked Erica, feeling irritated.

   "She divorced me, actually," said Terry.  "She said I was a male,
chauvinist pig."

   "And are you?" Erica wondered why she felt like she had to be so
confrontational.

   "Probably." He grinned.  "I think she took things to extremes,
though.”

   "Why is that?"

   "Well," he said, "for one thing, she insisted that I wash my own dishes,
and clothes."

   "What a shame," said Erica, with acid in her voice.

   "OH, I didn't mind that," said Terry.  "I just think it's stupid for two
people to use the sink and the washer, and do the grocery shopping and
everything else, when one could do it with less confusion, and more
economy."

   "Why didn't you do it all then?" asked Erica.  She clamped down on her
emotions.  He appeared to be an unrepentant bastard, but he was talking. 
That left room for him to be educated.

   "I would have," he said.  "She wouldn't let me.  Said everybody had to
do their share.  She even split the bills right down the middle, and I had
to pay half, while she did the other half.  We had to have two bank
accounts.  She had her chair and I had mine.  She wanted to change her name
back to her maiden name.  It wasn't a marriage.  It was more like living
with a roommate."

   "Oh." Erica had the now familiar feeling that she had, once again,
jumped to an incorrect conclusion.  She thought about Bobby again as Terry
went on.

   "I liked doing things with her, but it was impossible to do anything
WITH her.  She kept breaking everything down into her part and my part. 
She was trying to make everything as equal as possible.  I thought it was
stupid.  I guess I shouldn't have told her that." He smiled and shrugged
his shoulders.  "Actually, I think the divorce was good for both of us. 
She seems to thrive under the yoke of the oppressive dominating male
bastards who pay the bills."

   Erica's eyebrow went up.

   "She's a secretary," he explained.  "We dated in high school.  I went to
college and she went into the work force, to make money right away.  Now
she has no skills, but still thinks her boss should make her a partner."

   "She has skills," objected Erica.

   "I guess so," said Terry.  "She's just in the wrong place at the wrong
time.  She'd have made a very good farmer's wife.  In a family like that
both people have to work hard to make a go of it."

   "I suppose so," said Erica.  He obviously wasn't going to be interested
in her any more.  She wondered, briefly why that seemed to bother her.

   "Anyway," he said.  "The last thing I want to do is talk about my
ex-wife.  What about you?  Are you one of those extreme types, or do you
just want a fair shot at things?" He seemed to think there were only two
categories.

   "I just think women should be recognized for their capabilities," she
said.  "Equal pay would be nice too."

   "I couldn't agree more," he said.

   She was both shocked by his comment, which was delivered in the same
voice he'd been talking in, and distracted by the delivery of their food.
It was a few minutes before she could respond.

   "I thought you were bitter about feminists," she said.

   "Not at all," said Terry.  "I just believe in moderation.  She loved
feminism more than she loved me.  I don't mind being fair, but I'd sort of
like to still be able to be a man without having to apologize for it all
the time."

   "It's men who have denied women an equal shot at things," she said.  He
stopped eating, and looked at her.  "Other men," he said.  "Not me.  I'd
like an equal shot at things too, and if women stereotype me, I don't get
that."

   "Feminists are stereotyped," she said.  "Men think about women
stereotypically all the time."

   "Then you know what I'm talking about," he said.  "Why do you think I
asked you what kind of feminist you are?"

   "Asking that sets me up for failure," she argued.  "If I say I'm
strident, then suddenly I'm an uncaring bitch.  If I say I'm moderate, then
you won't take me seriously."

   "You're assuming I won't take you seriously," he said.  "You're
stereotyping me."

   "What was the first part of me you looked at?" she asked.

   "I know where you're going with this," he said.  "You might be surprised
to find out I looked at your hair."

   "My hair?"

   "Hair can suggest lots of things about people," he said.  "At least
that's a theory of mine.  Some women - men too - spend a lot of time on
their hair, making it look just so.  They use stuff on it, sprays and gels
and all that kind of thing.  Why do they do that?  I think it has something
to do with making a presentation.  They want a certain response, whatever
that may be.  But I don't want to touch hair like that.  It looks all hard
and fake.  At the other end of the spectrum are people who don't wash it,
or cut it, or take care of it at all.  I'm not sure what that means, but it
rubs me the wrong way for some reason.  I don't want to touch that hair
either.  It's not really fair, but it's just the way I feel.  I'm working
on that."

   She started to respond, but he held up a hand.

   "And then there are those of us who are in the middle somewhere.  We
wash our hair, and keep it clean and healthy.  We don't put a bunch of
chemicals on it to make it better, or special, or eye-catching.  It's just
a part of us, and we're OK with that.  It's hair that looks like it might
be nice to run your fingers through.  My theory is that those people are
the most level headed, and the ones I'm most likely to get along with."

   "All stereotypes," said Erica.

   "I know," he sighed.  "It's really hard not to use them." He went back
to eating.

   Erica began eating again too, but her mind wasn't on the food.  He had
basically just said that he wouldn't mind running his fingers through her
hair.  But he'd said it in a way that wasn't Chauvinistic.  She looked at
his hair.  With a tinge of dismay she realized that he was right.  Under
the right circumstances, the idea of running her fingers through that hair
wasn't objectionable at all.

   She didn't buy into all his opinions.  But the way in which he'd
presented them didn't bother her either.  He just said what he was
thinking.

   "I don't agree with everything you said," she said.

   "I'd hope not," he said, smiling.  "We're different people, after all.
It would be boring if we agreed on everything, don't you think so?"

   They ate a few minutes longer.  She had another question, but she wasn't
sure it was one she wanted to ask.  She couldn't resist, though.  "What was
the next thing you looked at?" she asked.  His fork paused, halfway to his
mouth.

   "You sure you want to know?"

   She wasn't, even more so now, but she was stubborn.  "I asked, didn't
I?"

   "Yes, but WHY did you ask?" He waved his fork.  "Never mind.  It was
your face, and THEN I looked at the rest of you.  Happy?"

   Actually, what Erica was feeling was the tension of conflicting
concepts. After Bobby, she couldn't help but think about men a little
differently than she had in the past.  She still had values.  Her feminism
was still important to her.  But that didn't seem to threaten this man.  He
was behaving like a male ...  sort of.  There were at least male components
to his behavior.  He'd admitted he looked at her body.  Something in her
liked that.  That was one of the things Bobby had made her think about ...
like being perceived as a female.  Under the right circumstances, it
wasn’t as objectionable as it had been in the past.  She looked at
Terry.  He was waiting for her answer, even though his question could have
been perceived as rhetorical.  He was looking at her face, instead of her
breasts.

   "Maybe," she finally said.

   "My turn," he said.  "What was the first thing you looked at when you
saw me?"

   "I don't remember," she said, feeling suddenly defensive.

   "Come on, I was straight with you," he said.

   "Your eyes," she said.

   "Really?  How come?"

   "I wanted to see what you were looking at," she said, feeling somehow
like that was unfair.

   "You get a lot of men leering at you, don't you." He said it as if it
was a normal part of any conversation.

   "Yes," she said, wondering why she was validating his comment.  "I'll
try hard not to leer," he said.

   "Why would you even care?" she asked.

   "I don't know.  I guess I want to see if there's any chemistry between
us.  If I tick you off and you stop talking to me, it will be pretty hard
to do that."

   The tension flared in her.  He was so ...  bold?  That wasn't the right
word.  Suggestive wasn't the right word either.  He was obviously
interested in her.  What did that mean?  She tried to decide if she was
interested in him.  She thought he was nice looking, but didn't like the
fact that that popped into her mind.  He was honest, or at least good at
looking honest.  It wouldn't be hard to find out how he felt about
anything. He obviously didn't mind telling her that.  Again, he seemed to
be waiting.  He didn't push her, or ignore her.  She thought about Bobby,
and Jake, two men she liked.  They were nice guys, really, a new concept
for her, but one that was powerful.  Maybe this one was a nice guy too. 
And he was right.  If she pushed him away ...  she'd never know.  She felt
strange, encouraging him, as she thought of it.  Her mouth supplied words
that were in her mind, but said in a slightly different way than she would
have if she'd thought it out before speaking.

   "Try not to leer too much," she said.

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

   "So," said Candy, reaching past Bobby to get the peanut butter.  She
slid her breast across his arm.  It was obvious it was intentional, because
she slid it back across his arm when she stepped back.  "What's this 4th of
July thing that Matilda and Betty are so worked up about?"

   "It's just a town picnic," said Bobby, keeping his eyes on the ham
sandwich he was making for himself.  His mother was over at Prudence's
tonight.  Professor Hamilton was with her.  She had left food in the fridge
for people to make their own supper.  He'd never felt nervous around a
woman.  Not since Tilly, that first time he’d discovered sexuality.
It bugged him that this girl got him so tense.  "Everybody goes to eat. 
There's homemade ice cream and watermelon.  Then there's a dance and
fireworks."

   "You gonna dance with me if I go?" asked Candy.

   "I have a date already," said Bobby.  He hoped he still had a date. 
Constance hadn't talked to him since he offered to pay her to go with him.

   "Maybe we could dance tonight, instead," said Candy, pressing her breast
into his arm.  "Maybe out in the barn ...  where it would be nice and
private."

   "I have to go see somebody tonight," said Bobby.  "Sorry."

   Candy pouted.  She'd made it perfectly clear to this handsome older man
that she was available.  He acted like she didn't exist.  The only thing
that made her feel better was that Jennifer wasn't having any better luck.

   "There will be lots of guys at the picnic," said Bobby.  He didn't
mention they'd likely be in high school.

   Jennifer walked in to the kitchen.  She was dressed in only her bra and
panties.

   "Oops!" she said, holding one hand artfully up to her mouth.  "I didn't
know you were home, Bobby.  I thought Candy and I were the only ones here."


   Candy snorted.

   "No problem," said Bobby.  "I grew up with seven sisters.  I've seen it
all before." He grabbed his sandwich, and then a bottle of Dr Pepper from
the refrigerator.  "Gotta run.  See you."

   The two girls watched him leave, and then looked at each other.  Both
frowned.

   "You don't suppose he's a homo, do you?" asked Candy dryly.

   "That would be criminal," said Jennifer.

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

   Prudence looked at Mirriam, trying to catch her eye.  It was the third
time she'd done this, since Mirriam had shown up with the professor in tow.
When Mirriam looked at her, Prudence lifted both eyebrows and cocked her
head, sending the clear signal for "what's going on here?" Mirriam ignored
her, also for the third time.  The professor ...  Jeff, it was ...  was
telling Constance about the research they were doing.  Prudence couldn't
just ask Mirriam to leave the room, but the urge was strong.

   "Maybe you could tell us what's growing in our back yard," said
Constance.  "It's really tall, with kind of a fuzzy ball that sticks up on
the top.  It's beautiful, but it keeps getting shorter and shorter every
year."

   "Sure," said Jeff.  "Lead the way.  I'm sure we can figure it out." The
door had barely closed when Prudence turned to Mirriam.  "So?"

   "So nothing," said Mirriam.  "The poor man is trying to evade the
clutches of two of his graduate students."

   "He's handsome," pointed out Prudence.  "Don't tell me you haven't
noticed that."

   "He's a customer, Pru," said Mirriam.  "So?  That doesn't mean you can't
be friends with him."

   Mirriam snorted.  "I think friends isn't quite the word you have in
mind, Prudence."

   It had all the makings of turning into the kind of deal where each woman
would try to get the other one to do something about this handsome
professor, who was going to be in town all summer.  They were interrupted,
though, when Bobby came through the door.

   "They tried to corner me," he said, to his mother.

   "Who did?" asked Prudence.

   "The same two who are after Jeff," said Mirriam.

   "Oh, so now it's Jeff ..." Prudence grinned.

   "Where's Connie?" asked Bobby.  "I need to talk to her."

   Prudence's mind was back on trying to figure out a way to convince
Mirriam that there was an opportunity here, for a little fun and frolic. 
She almost ignored Bobby, but said "She's out back with Jeff." She grinned
at Mirriam again as she emphasized the name.

   Bobby went to the back door.  He heard his mother saying that the man
insisted on her calling him by his first name.  She sounded defensive.  He
needed to find Connie, though, and apologize, if that's what it would take
to make sure she went with him to the picnic.  He opened the door and saw
them by the back fence.  It was twilight, but he could make out their
shapes.  They were standing, face to face.  It looked like they were
standing very close together too.

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

   Jeff held out the frond that he had pulled down, and which he held
between them.

   "See here?" he said.  "These are the seeds.  They should be much bigger
than this by now, and a darker color.  I don't think any of these are
viable.  There's clearly a soil deficiency here.  That's why they're
growing so short too.  All you really need is a good fertilizer and they'll
bounce back.

   "I hope so, said Constance, reaching to pinch off some of the seeds he
had pointed out.  "They're so beautiful, all lined up like this."

   A lawn sprinkler in the yard next door suddenly came to life, and it
began jetting water streams out in a circular pattern.  Jeff saw it was
going to hit them if they didn't move, and he put one hand around the young
woman's waist to propel her away from the water.  She stepped forward,
having heard the sprinkler, and moved away from the fence toward the shed.
Jeff went with her.

   "With your neighbor watering them for you like that, if you fertilize
right now, they might bounce back this year," said Jeff.

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

   Bobby didn't see the water, or hear the sprinkler.  All he saw was the
man and woman, with their heads close together.  Then the man put his arm
around Connie and moved her out of sight, behind the shed.  They stayed
there.

   Images flashed through Bobby's mind.  He hadn't minded Tim.  Tim had
been good for Connie.  Tim had been exactly what Connie needed.  He'd been
happy for them both.  But this guy was a lot older.  A LOT older.  To keep
from imagining what they might be doing, back there in the dark, he tried
to imagine what would happen when the professor left, at the end of the
summer.  Would Connie be crushed?  Or would she go with him, back to the
university?

   He felt pain in his stomach.  Either option made him feel miserable.  He
didn't know what he'd do if he didn't have Constance to talk to.  She
understood him.  Even when he'd confessed about taking money for sex, she
hadn't screamed at him.  Sure, she was upset about the joke he'd made.  He
felt sudden fear that he'd pushed her away ...  into the arms of this man.

   He didn't know what to do.  It was none of his business.  Connie was all
grown up.  She could do what she wanted.  There were two girls, back at the
farm.  All he had to do was go back there, walk in, and say "Who wants to
play hide the sausage?" Maybe both of them would jump at the chance.

   That made his stomach hurt even more.  He felt like crying.  He turned,
to go back in, trying to control his face.  His mother and Prudence were
still needling each other.  He could hear it in the tone of their voices.
They were teasing each other about something.  He didn't want to be in
there with them.  They sounded too happy.

   He went to the living room, and sat down in the dark.

   He was still sitting there when Constance walked through the door,
followed by Jeff Hamilton.

   "I'm so glad we did that," said Constance, sounding happy.  “I've
been so sad.  I liked it so much before."

   "All you need is some fertilization," said Jeff.  "With good
fertilization it will be coming out your ears."

   "I'd like that," sighed Constance.  "I don't have much experience with
that, though.  I haven't done it very many times."

   "I'm your man, Constance," said Jeff.  "You leave it to me.  I'll take
good care of you."

   "Oh thank you!" said Constance, obviously happy.  "Imagine that!  I'm
going to do it with a real honest to goodness professor!  Maybe we'll have
lots of little ones, and they'll grow up to be big and tall and gorgeous."

   "I'll do my best," said the professor.

   Constance flipped on the light, and jumped when she saw Bobby sitting
there.  She blushed.

   "Bobby!" she squeaked.  "I didn't know you were there!"

   Bobby, after what he'd just heard, and being already in a dark frame of
mind, couldn't know that the blush was both from surprise, and the pleasure
of knowing he was there.

   "I know," he said.

   He didn't understand what was going on, but he had never felt this
miserable in his entire life.  He felt rage, and fear, but didn't
understand why he felt those things.  He wanted to kiss Constance, and
punch the professor, and that didn't make sense to him either.  He felt
like he might explode any second.  Upper most in his mind though was not
doing something that would make Constance hate him.  If she'd chosen this
man, it was her right.  It was none of his business.  That decision made
him feel like a red hot poker had been shoved into his gut.  He wouldn't
understand that until he'd had time to think.  Right now, it was important
to him to leave before he broke down, right in front of her.

   He got up.  "I have to go."

   Chapter Twenty-Five



   The conversation in the kitchen between Mirriam and Prudence had, in
fact, evolved into a "I don't want him ...  YOU take him," kind of banter.
Both women, to be honest, thought about the man.  He was single, good
looking, educated, and would only be in town for a few months.  For a woman
who had needs, but didn't want to get tied down, he was very attractive. 
Mirriam had been trying hard NOT to think about him in that way.  But he
was a very engaging man.  He wasn't pushy, but he was a lot friendlier than
the average man might be.  Their conversation was cut off as if by a knife
when Constance and Jeff came back into the kitchen.

   "What's wrong with Bobby?" asked Constance.

   "Wrong?" Mirriam looked confused.  "Nothing.  He went looking for you.
Didn't you talk to him?"

   "No," said Connie.  "When we came back in he was sitting in the living
room ...  in the dark.  As soon as I said something to him he got up and
left."

   "That's odd," said Mirriam.  "He said he needed to talk to you." Her
eyebrows pulled together.  "Where did he go?"

   "He didn't say," said Constance.  "He looked upset, though."

   "He'll show up," said Prudence.  "We'll find out all about it then."

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

   "Can't you at least stay and have dinner with me?" asked Terry.  Class
was over for the day.  He'd suggested they have dinner every night.  She'd
consistently said she had to get home.  She hadn't told him about Owen, for
some reason.  They had eaten lunch together every day since the seminar
started, but usually they talked about what they'd just heard in the
classes.  It was a good seminar.

   But in the evenings she needed to pick up Owen.  Her breasts were full
and tender by then, and needed relief.  She'd brought a pump with her, and
used it during the day.  One of the women in the cafeteria let her put the
bottles in the refrigerator, so she could deliver them to Renee when she
picked Owen up.  Renee used them the next day.  It had been working well,
thus far.  After that there was dinner to get, and Owen to spend time with.
She had always been in a hurry to get home after class.

   "If you have a boyfriend just say so," said Terry.

   A week of getting to know each other had gotten them to the point where
both of them felt pretty safe saying whatever was on their minds.  They
argued about things, but not that often.  She had left Owen out of things
intentionally, in the beginning, though she didn't know why.  Now that they
were almost friends, at least in her opinion, she felt like she should have
told him.  If she did now, though, he'd know she'd held it back.  She
didn't want him to think that.  She didn't understand that either.

   "I don't have a boyfriend," said Erica.

   "I find that exceedingly odd," said Terry.

   He looked like he was waiting for an explanation.  He did that a lot. 
He'd say something, and then wait for her to respond.  Why she always
seemed to feel like she had to respond was something else she didn't really
understand.

   "There are complications," she said.

   "Not too surprising," said Terry.  "You're a complicated woman."

   "What does that mean?" she asked, her voice querulous.

   "It means that there are many facets to your personality," he said. 
"You're capable, but not overbearing.  You're intelligent, but don't throw
it in people's faces.  You can be hard as nails, but have an obvious soft
side.  You store breast milk in the cafeteria kitchen, but don't have a
husband or a boyfriend.  I'd say that classifies you as being complicated."


   That he'd somehow found out about the breast milk made her feel like
he'd been spying on her.  And now this question about the boyfriend.

   "I never said I didn't have a husband," she said, confrontationally.

   "Do you?” he asked.

   "No, and that's none of your business anyway!" she said, her chin
jutting out.  "Why are you spying on me?"

   "Oh," he said.  "You mean the breast milk.  I wasn't going to mention
that, but sometimes you're so interesting that I don't watch my mouth.  I
wasn't spying on you.  They let me keep a six pack of Coke in the same
refrigerator.  I saw the bottles and had to ask about them.  One of the
cooks thinks I'm interested in her, and she told me."

   "That's horrible!" she gasped.

   "What?  Why is it so horrible to ask about something like that in a
university refrigerator?"

   "I mean about using that poor girl's emotions to get information out of
her!"

   "Oh," he said.  "She's married, Erica.  All I did was be friendly.  I
can't help it if I'm dashing and handsome, and make married women have
naughty thoughts." He smiled wryly.  "That's where I went wrong.  If I'd
have married a married woman, I'd probably still have her panting after
me."

   "Men are such a pain in the ass," sighed Erica.

   Terry didn't miss a beat.  "No wonder you have problems with men.  I
don't think you're supposed to let them do it in the ass, Erica."

   She was once again, shocked by this curious man.  He'd said something
completely unacceptable, but the way it came out was just a little teasing
joke.  Still, she didn't want to respond to that, so she went back to his
comment about the breast milk.

   "I have a son."

   "I figured," he said.  "I shouldn't have brought it up, and I'm sorry.
You obviously wanted to keep that private.  Like I said, sometimes I say
things without thinking them through first.  I should have waited until you
were ready to tell me."

   "I have to go," said Erica.  "I need to get home and feed him."

   "OK," he said.  "When school is going on I’m busy all the time,
but in the summer I get a little bored.  You’re fun to talk to. 
That's one reason I keep trying to get you to stay.  I guess I assumed it
would be that way for you too.  I should have known you had a good reason
to get home every night."

   On the drive home Erica wondered about his choice of words.  He said
that she was fun to talk to, and that was ONE reason he wanted her to stay.
That suggested there was another reason he wanted her to stay too.  Her
imagination supplied that reason.  She thought it was interesting that that
didn’t make her unhappy with him.

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

   Erica parked the car.  Bobby was sitting on the edge of the ramp.  Will
spent almost every night at Christy's now.  She got out, expecting him to
come help her with her things, but he just sat there.  She wondered if any
of the neighbors had seen him waiting, and then decided she didn't care. 
People thought what they thought, and there wasn't anything she could do
about that.  She left the diaper bag in the car and just took Owen out. 
She needed to feed him first, and could come back for her other things
later.

   "Hi," she said.

   He looked up and, even in the dark she could tell that something was
wrong.

   "What happened?" she asked.  "Come on in.  I have to feed him.  I'm
about to burst."

   He followed her in, but still didn't say anything.  She felt completely
normal opening her blouse in front of him.  Rather than fiddle with the
nursing bra, she handed Owen to Bobby and took both the blouse and the bra
off.

   He still hadn't said anything, but handed Owen back to her.  Their son
latched onto a nipple eagerly and she felt the tingling zings as her milk
let down even before she could sit down.

   She sat back and sighed as Owen sucked hungrily at a nipple.  She let
the other one just drip, because it felt so good to let the pressure
diminish.  She hadn't talked to Bobby in over a week, because of the
seminar.

   "What's wrong?" she asked again.

   "I don't know," he said.  His voice was low, and she could hear the pain
in it.

   "Well what happened?" she insisted.

   "I don't want to talk about it," he said.

   "Not acceptable," she said shortly.  "If you're going to come over here
all broken up about something, you have to tell me about it."

   "I'm not all broken up," he said.

   "You want some milk?" she asked.

   "No thanks," he said.

   "See?" she said dryly.  "When was the last time you weren't interested
in my breasts?  You haven't even looked at them tonight!"

   "Yes I did," he argued.  "You just took your top off.  I couldn't miss
that."

   "Tell me what's wrong, Bobby," she wheedled.

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

   This was a Bobby that Erica had never seen before.  Gone was his
confident air, and his calm demeanor.  He was in agony, and it was so harsh
that it brought memories of Will's flashback to mind.  He wouldn't
volunteer anything, but she found out he'd answer questions, so she asked
them until she narrowed the field, and found out it was about a woman.  It
was something she'd never thought about before ...  Bobby Dalton with
another woman.  She realized that was silly.  If he'd won her over, he
wouldn't have any trouble winning other women over too.

   Little by little she got deeper into his funk, until he DID begin
volunteering information.  It was disjointed.  It was about a woman named
Connie, but she got the wrong answers about this woman.  He didn't date
her. "Not really," was his characterization of it.  She wasn't his
girlfriend.  That made Erica feel better.  If he'd been making her pregnant
while cheating on his girlfriend, she wasn't sure she'd be able to keep
from wringing his neck.  It was as he finally began to describe what he'd
seen, earlier that night, that the situation gelled in her mind.

   He was jealous.  She knew what that felt like.

   "You like this girl," said Erica.

   "She's my best friend," said Bobby.

   "No, I mean you really LIKE this girl." Neither of them noticed the
irony of the fact that Erica was using high school girl terminology for
that kind of affection.  Subconsciously, though, Erica knew it wasn't
precise enough.  "You love her."

   "I can't love her," said Bobby.

   "Why not?" asked Erica.

   "Because I don't know what love is, for one thing," moaned Bobby.  "And
anyway, there's Tim."

   Then Erica found out about Tim.

   "That's awful," she said.  Owen had fallen asleep on her other breast.
She just held him, and let him sleep.

   "That's what I don't understand," said Bobby.  "She was so broken up
about Tim.  I knew she needed me, but not like you needed me, or the
others. But now this guy comes along, and in one night they're planning on
having babies?  She just MET the guy, for Pete's sake!"

   "It doesn't sound right, Bobby," said Erica.

   "It's NOT right!" he yelled.  Owen jumped in her arms, and Bobby looked
chastened.  "Sorry," he said softly.

   "No, I mean it sounds too quick.  It can't be what you think, Bobby."

   "He said he wanted to fertilize her!  She said she hoped they'd have
lots of babies!" His voice was so pained that Owen woke up, and fussed.

   "Let me put him down," said Erica.  "I'll be back."

   She took their son to his crib.  He needed changing.

   "Bobby," she called out.  "Would you get the diaper bag out of my car?"
When he didn't answer, and she went looking for him, he was gone.  She had
to put her blouse back on, to go to her car herself.  She worried about
him, but there wasn't anything she could do.

   She went back to her baby.  It wasn't until half an hour later that she
remembered him saying that Connie hadn't needed him like Erica had ...  and
the others.

   She wondered who the others were.

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

   Bobby drove around for hours, meandering along country roads, not going
anywhere, just thinking.

   Erica had said he was in love with Connie.  He'd rejected that, but it
wouldn't go away.  It was like a fly buzzing around his ear that he
couldn't swat, and that wouldn't go somewhere else.  The driving calmed him
somewhat.  He thought back to what Connie had said about being in love with
Tim.

   She'd talked about liking to do the same things, and that she loved
being with him.  Bobby liked being with her.  He always looked forward to
seeing her.  And they'd always had fun, whatever they were doing.  It
wasn't quite the same as she'd described, but it was very similar.  He
thought hard, and could almost remember her saying the words: "Once we were
together, I couldn't imagine us apart again.  Even when he was gone, it was
like I could feel him ...  like there was a string or something that went
through the air and connected us."

   Bobby felt hopeless.  It wasn't like that between him and Connie.  He
could sense her moods when they were together.  Somehow, he could tell what
to say, or what to suggest, but it didn't feel like there was a string
connecting them.  He tried to feel for her now.  It didn't work.

   A person can only take so much depression, before it takes a toll on the
body.  It was fully dark when he drove up the driveway.  He was tired in a
way he couldn't remember ever being tired before.  He wasn't even sure he
could get out of the car.  He almost cried again when he saw Connie's car,
parked in the yard.  The lights in the house were off, and his mother's car
wasn't there.  Had she brought Jeff back to the B&B?  Was she up there,
in his bedroom right now?  With the lights off that could only mean one
thing.  Was he fertilizing her at this very moment?  The hot spike in his
guts twisted.

   The twins were home, and there was a light on in the barn.  He didn't
want to face them.  They'd know something was wrong, and pry.  He thought
seriously about just staying in the car.  He saw the door to the barn open.
It was Betty.  She strolled towards him, coming to the driver's window. 
When he didn't roll it down, she opened the door.

   "You OK?" she asked.

   "Not really," he said, trying to make it sound like there was not much
to talk about.

   "Connie said something was wrong.  She's been waiting for you for hours.
What's wrong, Bobby?"

   "Connie's here?"

   "She's in the barn.  Surely you saw her car."

   "Connie's in the barn?" This didn't fit with information his mind had
already whispered must be true.

   "Of course she is," said Betty.  "Where else would she be?  Bobby,
what's wrong!?"

   Bobby wished people would stop asking him that question.  He didn't know
what was wrong.

   "It doesn't matter," he sighed.

   "Of course it matters," said Betty.  “We love you."

   That got the idea of a possible smile from Bobby's brain.  They did that
so much, saying everything as if they were attached at the hip.  He was
surprised to find that her simple comment felt good.

   "Thanks," he said.

   "You coming in?" she asked.

   "I thought I'd just sleep here," he said.

   "That's stupid," said his sister.  "Besides, you have to talk to
Connie."

   "I don't want to," he said.

   "Well I don't know what's wrong with you, but she's been waiting for a
long time to make sure you're all right, so you're GOING to go in there and
at least let her see you're alive!"

   He let himself be bullied into getting out of the car, and she basically
dragged him to the barn.  Matilda was up too.



   "What's wrong?" she asked, instantly, as her brother and twin came in
the door.

   "He won't say," said Betty.

   Bobby looked around.  Constance wasn't in the living room.

   "She's in your room," said Matilda, somehow knowing who he was looking
for.  "She got tired and I told her we'd wake her up when you showed up."
She sounded angry for some reason.  "Are you aware that we were worried
half to death about you?"

   Bobby didn't feel guilty.  He knew she was trying to make him feel that
way, but he was too immersed in self pity to be able to give much of
anything.  Connie was in his room, probably all excited about her new love,
and waiting to tell him all about it.  He would be expected to be happy for
her.  He told himself he owed it to her to be happy for her, but that
didn't change how he felt.  He stood there, trying to avoid his duty to go
in and be Connie's friend.  How could he support her, if he couldn't even
support himself?

   "Bobby?" Matilda's voice had gone from angry to worried.

   He knew that if he stayed there, his sisters would pummel him with
questions and concern.  He knew they loved him, and that their demands
would be based on that love.  That gave him a limb to hang on to, in a way,
but at the same time he knew he couldn't talk to them about what was going
through his mind.  Maybe later ...  but not now.

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

   Psychologists say that every person, at some point in his or her life,
contemplates suicide.  They say it's a normal part of the process of
dealing with extreme disappointment or depression over the destruction of a
hope or dream.  Some people, when they don't see a way out of a problem,
view ending it all as an option for ending the pain as they end their life.
There is another motive for suicide, involving the subject's view that
someone can be punished, or made to be sorry if the suicide is carried out,
but that's not what was going through Bobby's mind at this moment in time.
He didn't want to punish anyone.  He just wanted the pain to stop.

   Psychologists also say that, for most people, the contemplation of
suicide is processed relatively rapidly, and rejected as an option for one
reason or another.  The important thing is that there BE a reason for the
subject to wish to stay alive ...  some sense of hope that things might, at
some point in the not too distant future, get better.  What Matilda, and
Betty by her extension as a twin, did at that moment was extend love to
their brother.  And his response was to think "maybe later", which meant he
had to stay alive so that, at some point, he could try to explain it to
them.

   So quickly is it possible for one in pain to wish for death, and then
resolve to keep living.  And all because of love.  The irony of the
situation is that love can cause the fall, and then be the only thing that
drags one up from the abyss.

   In any case, because Bobby chose to explain it later, his only option at
that point was to go face Constance.  He took a ragged breath and ordered
leaden feet to move towards his door.  He'd never answered Matilda's
question which in itself, was so unusual that the twins just watched as he
went to his room.

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

   As one man trudged toward what he perceived would be his doom, and the
start of a portion of his life that almost wasn't worth living, a few miles
away another man was experiencing tension of another sort.  The tension
felt by William Bradford was, if possible, as intense as that felt by Bobby
Dalton, though it was based on distress of a different kind.  Will felt
many of the same things that Bobby was feeling ...  terror ...  the fear of
the destruction of a dream ...  the sense that everything could be going
down the tubes.  His happiness, and his future hung in the balance, as with
his eyes closed, he ripped courage from deep within his body, and prepared
to ask a question.  What terrified him was the possibility that the answer
would kill him.

   "Will you marry me?" he said softly to the sleeping woman almost next to
him.

   He and Christy were lying in bed.  Jillian had wanted to talk to "my
baby" as she called it, and had crawled up on the bed between Will and
Christy.  She had talked to Christy's swelling belly until she got tired
and fell asleep, cuddled between her mother and the man she just called
"Will".  Christy had been reading, but had fallen asleep too.  Will,
propped up on his good arm and lying sideways, had just looked at mother
and daughter, and thought about what he wanted more than anything else in
the world.  He'd tried to ask her a dozen times, but just couldn't.  Now,
at least, he'd been able to give voice to it, even if she couldn't hear
him.

   "Yes, I will," said the sleeping woman softly.  Her head rolled, and her
eyes came open.  She smiled.

   Will goggled, and his breath caught in his chest.

   "I thought you were asleep!" he gasped, as his intercostal muscles
relaxed and let his breath out in an audible sigh.

   "I was just resting my eyes.  Does that mean you didn't mean it?" Her
eyes shadowed.

   "NO!"

   Jillian jerked and lifted her head, before dropping it again when there
was no further disruption.

   "Good," said Christy softly.  "I'm so glad you asked me.  I was too
chicken to ask you."

   Chapter Twenty-six



   Bobby entered the room to see Constance lying on her side, on top of the
covers.  Her knees were bent a little, and pulled up a bit.  Her head was
on his pillow.  She looked so beautiful lying peacefully there, that his
heart wrenched in his chest.  Tears came to his eyes and almost immediately
overflowed, making twin trails down his cheeks.  He felt the urge to turn
and go back, even if that meant he had to face the twins.  He couldn't
suppress a sob.

   She opened her eyes and lifted her head.

   "THERE you are," she said.

   He balled up his fists and rubbed his eyes, like a little boy.  He tried
to choke back more sobs, but couldn't.

   She was suddenly up, her arms around him.  She didn't say anything,
merely held him and moved him inexorably toward the bed.  When they fell on
it together, he felt like his bones might break.  Bed was the last place he
needed to be with this woman.  But her arms were stronger than his were
capable of being, just then.  He felt her kissing his hair, and her free
hand pulled at him, in different places, making him adjust until they were
lying side by side, with one of her arms under him.  She hugged him
tightly, still not saying anything, and her hands simply stroked up and
down along his backbone.

   His mind just shut down.  It was too much to deal with and he retreated
to a place where nothing could touch him.  He was, clinically catatonic, at
that point in time.  His sanity lurched into a tiny box, and pulled the
flaps in after it.  Eventually, his stiff muscles began to loosen, little
by little, until he was limp.  His wracking sobs waned, until he was only
breathing deeply.

   Constance held him, her own mind whirling.  What had devastated this man
to this degree?  She had a sudden fear that one of his children had died,
but then she was sure some word of that would have come to her.  It was too
small a town for something like that to go uncirculated.  He was calming,
though, so she just held him.  When she realized he was asleep, she let
herself go back to sleep too, still cradling him in her arms.

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

   One reason sleep is so important is that sleep allows the mind to
process things ...  to reflect and examine various information and problems
without the distractions the waking mind has to deal with.  The unconscious
has ways of looking at things more dispassionately than the conscious mind
can.

   While he slept, Bobby's mind began sorting out the plethora of sharp and
spiny thoughts, and started the procedure of dulling their razor edges and
points.  Concepts were categorized and filed together, like pieces of one
of the jigsaw puzzles Bobby enjoyed working on so much.  As the pieces fell
into place, the concept took form.  Some synapse sparked, and Erica's voice
said "You love her" again.  Bobby's mind viewed the image of Constance,
standing quietly and gazing at him, and finally agreed.  His subconscious
spoke to the vision of the woman and whispered: "I love you."

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

   Bobby woke.  He felt lethargic, but his senses detected evidence of the
woman pressed against him instantly.  He smelled Connie.  His eyes opened
to see her sleeping face.  His skin felt her arms, still around him.  The
reading light was still on.  There was no window in his room, so he had no
idea what time it was, or whether day had come outside.

   There was a dull ache in his chest, but it was infinitely more bearable
than what had wracked him, body and soul, last night.  Something niggled at
his mind.  His dry mouth and complaining bladder made it impossible to
think.  Based on that, he decided it was morning.  He wanted nothing more
than to lie here like this, with her against him, forever, if possible. 
But he knew that couldn't be.  Resignation had begun to take root in him.
She had gotten over the loss of Tim.  He could get over the loss of her. 
Knowledge that she would be happy again was a huge boost to his resolve to
help her do exactly that.

   Her arms tightened as he tried to get up, but he slipped out of them as
she made signs of waking.  His shoes were still on, and felt heavy on his
feet as he went quickly to the bathroom.  To avoid splashing, he lowered
his jeans and sat.  It was while he sat there that something new popped
into his head.  She was here!  She had left her new lover to come see about
him!  It was astonishing.  She was sitting up, rubbing her eyes when he
came out of the bathroom.

   "What are you doing here?" he asked.

   "I knew something was wrong," she said.  She yawned, and became more
alert.  "What IS wrong?"

   "You shouldn't have come," he said.

   "Why not?" she asked.  "Answer me, Bobby.  What's wrong?!"

   "He might not understand," said Bobby, feeling like he might have ruined
something for her.

   "Who might not understand?" asked Constance.  "What are you talking
about, Bobby?"

   "Jeff ...  Professor Hamilton."

   "What?" Connie looked confused.  "Would you please tell me what's going
on, Bobby?  I was so worried about you."

   "Connie," he pleaded.  "I saw you with him.  I heard what you said.  He
won't understand if you leave him and come to me like that.  You were here
all NIGHT, Connie!  He won't understand!"

   Constance's mouth fell open.  What he was saying didn't make any sense,
of any kind.  She began to worry that he was having a breakdown of some
kind.  If that was true, she didn't know how to act.  What should she say?
Should she try to get him to go to a doctor?  She needed time to think.  To
try to get it, she decided to just try to keep him talking.

   "Jeff won't mind," she said, trying to attack his apparent fear that the
professor would be angry, about her spending the night in Bobby's room. 
She didn't much care who got upset about that.  Bobby had needed her, even
though she didn't actually DO anything, and she was glad she'd been there.
He was acting strangely, but he was much calmer than he'd been last night.
She didn't know what Professor Hamilton had to do with anything, but that
seemed to be Bobby's current fear, so she tried to reassure him.  "He was
talking to my mother, and your mother, when I left.  He wasn't unhappy at
all."

   Much as Erica Bradford's world had moved and twisted, as things happened
to her that required she view the world from a different perspective, now
Bobby's world jerked a bit.  Why hadn't Jeff come with her?  How could he
let her go off alone, looking for another man?  While he thought about
that, Constance was thinking again about what Bobby had just said.  He'd
seen her with Jeff?  He'd heard her talking with him?  All they'd talked
about was the fountain grass in the back yard.  She couldn't understand why
that would get Bobby upset.

   "Bobby?" She watched as his eyes focused.  "What did you mean about
seeing me and Professor Hamilton?"

   "I saw him take you behind the shed," said Bobby.  There, that should
give her the opening to explain that something wonderful had happened.

   "Yes," she said.  "The sprinkler came on next door, and it was going to
get us wet." She acted like she expected him to continue.

   "And when you came in," he said.  "Before you turned the light on, I
heard you planning to have babies."

   "Babies?" Her voice went up.  She looked shocked.

   "I didn't mean to eavesdrop," said Bobby.  "I was just sitting there."

   "Bobby, I don't know what's happened to you, but he never said anything
to me about babies."

   "He said he was going to fertilize you," said Bobby.  "You said you
wanted lots of babies."

   Like a light had gone on, Constance saw the whole thing.  She couldn't
remember the exact conversation, but she knew what it was about.  She
thought it was funny that Bobby had misunderstood, but then his reaction to
what he'd heard exploded into her mind, and it wasn't funny any more.

   She stood up and walked to Bobby.  She took his hands in hers.

   "We were talking about fountain grass, Bobby," she said softly.  "It's
called Pennisetum Setaceum." She sounded proud that she'd remembered the
name.  "We have some growing in the back yard, and it wasn't doing very
well.  I was afraid it was dying.  He looked at it and he was telling me
how to get it to grow again.  What you heard was him saying he'd help me
get it healthy."

   Bobby blinked.

   Imagine, for a few seconds, that a doctor has told you you have cancer,
and that you're going to die.  Imagine working through that to the point
where you accept that death will come.  Then imagine the doctor coming back
to you and saying, "Gee, I'm sure sorry about this, but the X-rays I was
looking at belonged to someone else.  You're actually fit as a fiddle."

   It's more than a light turning on.  It's more like the overwhelming
brilliance of a nova.  It buffeted Bobby like the spectacular death of a
star overwhelms all within its reach, too.  He felt like he was expanding,
like that star, and then he collapsed back in on himself.

   "He's not your lover?" Bobby's voice sounded like a little boy's.

   "No, Bobby," said Constance softly.

   He felt shame so deep and so intense that he couldn't face her.  He had
to turn away.  Only the fact that her denial made him feel like he could
actually be happy again kept him from bawling.

   "Was that what this was all about?" asked Constance.

   His head nodded, but he still looked away from her.  He felt her hands
on his shirt, pulling, trying to make him turn.

   "I'm sorry," he moaned.  "I was so stupid!"

   She insisted that he turn and face her.  His eyes rose, and when they
saw hers ducked back down.

   "I was so worried about you," she said.

   "I know," he whined.  "I'm really sorry.  I thought you were going to go
away with him, and I'd never get to see you again."

   "Do you feel better now?"

   "Uh huh." He still sounded young.

   "I think you need to kiss me now, Bobby," she said.

   He looked up, his eyes wide.

   "You made me worry," she said.  "At least you can kiss me."

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

   Bobby had had to hold up a lot of women in the past, as he kissed them.
His kisses had caused a number of them need support to stand, or someplace
to sit.  Suddenly, he knew how those women felt.

   Constance couldn’t hold him up as she kissed him.  So she just
sank down with him, both of them going to their knees on the floor.  She
wrapped her arms around his neck and wouldn't let go.  She breathed through
her nose, and kept the kiss going until he started sniffing alarmingly.

   When she finally let him go, there were tears running down his face. 
She could see the raw relief in his eyes, though, and knew these tears were
good ones.

   "I love you so much," she whispered.

   Then she kissed him again.

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

   It was the last day of the seminar and they sat, as usual, across from
each other at a lunch table.  Terry's behavior toward her, when she had
returned to the classroom, after she told him she had a child, had been
just as before.  He still exhibited interest in being around her.  He still
blurted out things.  It was as if her baby just didn't matter.  Now, as
they ate their last lunch together, she realized she was going to miss him.


   "I'll miss this," she said, giving her thought words.

   "Me to," he said.

   They ate for a while.

   "You know," he said, pausing, "there's no rule that says we have to miss
this." He looked at her.  "You only live what ...  forty miles away?" He
grinned.  "Besides, I haven't had time to break down your defenses to my
eventual underhanded plans."

   She felt the thrill of being desired.

   "I suppose you want to come to Granger so you can shack up with me for a
while and then go back home," she said, teasing him.

   "Not at all," he said smoothly.  "You could come up here, shack up with
me, and then I could send YOU home." He grinned again.  "I'm on board with
this feminist idea that women should be equal in all ways, to men. 
Wouldn't that mean they can be the aggressor?  Pay for the meals on dates?
Stuff like that?"

   Something in Erica decided that he was only half kidding, and she liked
that.  It proved he was thinking about things seriously.

   "Yes," she said.  "That's one of the things that would make things more
equal, but it misses the point."

   "And the point is?" he asked, inviting her to go on.

   "The point is that true equality doesn't have anything to do with
whether you're male or female," she said.  "I have talents, and you have
talents, and they should be judged without reference to whether it's the
talent of a man or woman."

   "We both teach Social Studies," he said.

   "Yes, and based on what I know about you, I bet we're both good
teachers, but I'd also bet we get paid differently."

   "I see your point," he said.  "But doesn't the fact that you're female,
and I'm male, automatically mean we see things from different perspectives,
and that has a fundamental effect on the way we teach?"

   "No human being can see anything from the same perspective as any other
human being," she said.  "We all have different life experience, and
everything we do is filtered through that unique lens."

   "OK," he said.  "But say you meet someone who just lost a family member.
If you lost one too, sometime back in your own family history, you're
better able to empathize with them than if you hadn't."

   "That has nothing to do with my gender," said Erica.

   "Having a baby does," he said.  "I can't empathize with a woman who is
about to have a baby.  You can."

   "OK, I'll give you that one," she said.  "I suppose there are some
filters that are gender related.  But I also think it's a fairly small
number.  The problem is that some people want to filter everything through
gender."

   "People put expectations on men too," said Terry.  "That's not fair
either."

   "You're right," said Erica.

   "The way I see it, it isn't a women's right issue, or a men's rights
issue ...  it's a human rights issue."

   "I might agree with that too," said Erica, "when men have as much
trouble getting their rights as women do."

   "Yeah," he said.  "I guess there is that."

   "Do you really want to ...  um ...  keep seeing me?" she asked.

   "You know I do," he said.  He wasn't smiling any more.  "I haven't tried
to hide it."

   "I know," she admitted.  "I'm just not used to men who don't play
games."

   "There's an alternative to us driving to see each other," he said.

   "What's that?" she asked.

   "I happen to know we lost a Social Studies teacher at the Jr.  High
School," he said.  "They're looking for one now."

   "Me?" she asked.  "Are you suggesting I move here?" She was astonished.

   "You told me yourself that being in Granger isn't making you happy."

   "But you and me ...  I mean isn't this a little fast?"

   "I don't know if you and I will ever get together or not," he said.  "I
know I like you, and I like the way you think.  But moving here wouldn't be
for me.  It would be for the job.  If you and I work out, that's great.  If
not, you'd still have a job.  It wouldn't be any worse than being in
Granger, and I bet the pay is better here too."

   "But, if I moved here ...  you'd ask me out?" she asked.

   "Ohhh yeah," he said.  "I want to get to know you better ...  lots
better."

   She looked at him archly.  "You're talking about sex, aren't you."

   He looked back at her with a level gaze.  "Sure am," he said.  "Won't
try to hide it.  It's all part of my non-game playing strategy to make you
want to get me in bed." He smiled.  "Besides, when I found out you had a
child, I knew there's at least one thing we both like to do."

   What appealed to Erica Bradford, in this situation, was that a man had
characterized the situation as her, wanting to get him in bed, rather than
him, wanting to get her in bed.  She liked that idea, because it gave her
the power.

   "I'll think about it," she said.

   He reached into his briefcase and took out a sheaf of papers.  He handed
them to her across the table.

   "I got you an application," he said, smiling.  "Just in case," he added.

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

   "I think you should tell him," said Jim.  He was holding Agatha's hand.

   "I know that," said Agatha, "and I've told you why I don't want to."

   "I'll go with you," he said.

   "Why are you doing this?" she moaned.

   He lifted her hand and kissed her fingertips.  "Because this unfinished
business for you," he said.  "I don't want there to be any unfinished
business to get in the way of what's happening between us." He let her hand
down to her thigh, but didn't release it.  They were sitting on his couch.

   Jim Dilly, from Agatha's perspective, at least, had relentlessly pursued
her since that first time he had offered to buy her coffee.  She'd gone
along, that first time, mostly because of Cathy, who was one of her regular
attendees at story telling time at the library … and Jim’s
daughter.

   She hadn't been able to figure out why he would be interested in her. 
She was unmarried, pregnant and living with her brother and sister-in-law.
Somehow, he'd convinced her to spend more time with him and she'd learned
that he was divorced.  "It just didn't work out, I guess," he'd said.  His
ex-wife lived in town, and had custody, but Jim got to have Cathy most
Saturdays, as well as other times when her mother had plans.  His regular
visits to the library with Cathy were because his ex-wife had a regular
therapy appointment on Tuesdays.  Cathy’s mother was also dating,
which meant that Jim took care of Cathy one or more nights a week.  Agatha
was a bit amazed that he didn't seem to mind that his ex-wife wanted nights
alone with the man ...  or men ...  she was dating.

   Agatha had also learned that Jim was fascinated with her.  He couldn't
explain it.

   "I love the way you read," he had said, "but that's not it.  I can't
explain it.  I just like being around you.  Isn't that enough for now?"

   It was all new and exciting, though in a completely different way than
it had been with Bobby.  This man was an unknown, and each time she was
with him she uncovered a little bit more of the picture that he was.  And
he wanted to know about her too, asking all kinds of questions.

   His questions didn't seem intrusive, somehow, and their relationship had
been warm, though quite platonic, up to this point.  That hadn't bothered
her, really.  Her belly protruded so much now that she had to plan
everything around that.  He had eventually felt comfortable asking her
about the baby and, much to her surprise, she had felt comfortable telling
him.

   "What IS happening between us, Jim?" she asked.

   "You know I don't like being alone," he said.  "I like you.  I want to
spend a lot more time with you."

   While that might have sounded tepid to someone who didn't know the two
of them, it electrified Agatha.  They were already spending time with each
other almost daily.  The only way he could see much more of her was to
start including nights.

   "A lot more time," he repeated.

   Agatha looked over at him.  It was just like in the movies.  Their faces
drifted closer and closer.  She knew he was going to kiss her.  It would be
her first kiss since Bobby.  If she'd have had more time to think about it,
she might have gotten scared.  But now her heart leapt and she let his lips
touch hers.

   When it was over she kept her eyes closed.  It had been soft and gentle,
but powerful at the same time.

   "I want to be able to do that a lot," he said softly.  "Loose ends might
get in the way of that."

   Chapter Twenty-seven



   It was late June, and Mirriam's car was parked in front of Prudence's
house.  While she and Bobby were both spending several nights a week at the
Harris house, they drove separate cars.  That's because Jeff Hamilton
always came with Mirriam, and Bobby usually took Constance somewhere while
the "older folks" as they called them, grinning, spent time together.  That
had happened tonight, which was why Mirriam's was the only Dalton vehicle
parked out front.

   Initially, Jeff had gone with Mirriam to Prudence's house to get away
from Jennifer and Candy.  While the research was going well, and the team
was working well together, he didn't want to be tempted during off time. 
The girls had finally asked for permission to take the van to the roadhouse
in Granger, where they could dance.  Jeff assumed they were quite popular
there, but didn't ask a lot of questions, as long as they promised him they
wouldn't drive drunk.  By then, though, it was more or less habit for him
to go with Mirriam, and that continued.

   Prudence was putting Kyle and Katherine to bed.  That was a sometimes
complicated and time consuming process, with last drinks of water, and
bedtime stories, and so on and so forth.  Prudence popped her head into the
living room.

   "Kyle has an upset stomach.  He feels warm.  I'm going to sit with him
until he falls asleep."

   "We should probably go," said Mirriam.  "It's getting late anyway."

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

   Bobby drove aimlessly, with no particular destination in mind.  The only
noise in the car was the radio, which was playing softly.  They'd gone to
the A&W, for a root beer float.  To say the relationship between Bobby
and Constance was tense was not fair, really.  After spending the night
together, sleeping fully clothed, and clearing up the misunderstanding that
Bobby had about her relationship with Jeff Hamilton, there had been some
kisses.  Those kisses had been serious, and both of them knew it.

   But there was a lot of baggage that went along with both Bobby and
Constance.  For Bobby, it was all the women he had loved, and the children
he had made with them.  For Connie, it was her dead husband, and the fact
that she'd had special feelings for Bobby most of her adult life.

   A few kisses, no matter how heartfelt, cannot overcome baggage like
that. They had always liked spending time together, which is what allowed
them to see each other again after those kisses.  Neither took anything for
granted in the relationship.  It wasn't rocky, but it wasn't smooth either.
They had spent eight or ten evenings together since that night, and had yet
to kiss again.

   Those eight or ten evenings had been full of talk, though if you'd have
asked either one of them what they'd talked about neither could have given
much of a list.  It was just comfortable to be together, even if all they
did was drive around, or go to a park and swing on the swings in the dark.

   Bobby had just completed a turn when his hand went to the volume knob on
the radio.  He turned it up.

   "I know that tune!" he said.

   The words that were being sung by a young female voice, when he turned
the radio up were:

   "I want to be Bobby's girl I want to be Bobby's girl, That's the most
important thing to me..."

   Constance reached for the knob and turned it down.  Bobby immediately
turned it back up.

   "And if I was Bobby's girl, If I was Bobby's girl, What a faithful
thankful girl I'd be.

   Each night I sit at home, Hoping that he will phone, But I know Bobby
has someone else"

   Constance reached to turn it down again.

   "That's the song you're always humming!" accused Bobby.

   "It's a silly song," said Constance.

   Bobby turned the radio back up and then slapped at her hand as she tried
to get to the knob.

   "I want to be Bobby's girl I want to be Bobby's girl, That's the most
important thing to me...

   Still in my heart I pray There soon will come the day That I will have
him all to myself...

   I want to be Bobby's girl I want to be Bobby's girl, That's the most
important thing to me...

   And if I was Bobby's girl, If I was Bobby's girl, What a faithful
thankful girl I'd be.  What a faithful thankful girl I'd be.  "

   The radio announcer's voice cut in, sounding much too jovial.

   "And that was Marcie Blaine's 1962 top three hit Bobby's Girl, a blast
from the past and an all time favorite.  That was for all the girls out
there who are pining for the man they can't have.  And now, on to ..."

   Constance's fingers hit the button that turned the radio on and off, and
it went silent.

   Bobby moved his hand, from where it had been protecting the volume knob.


   "Don't you turn that back on, Bobby Dalton!" she snapped.

   "What's the matter with you?" he laughed.  "You're the one that hums
that all the time.  I remember now.  Wow, that was a while back.  Mamma
used to sing along with that when it came on the radio and tell me that
there was a girl out there for me somewhere." He chuckled again.  "I was
thirteen, and I didn't know anything about girls.  They scared me back
then."

   "It's just a song," grumped Constance.

   They were passing the town square, and he pulled into a parking slot. 
He turned off the engine and turned to face her, putting his knee up on the
seat between them.

   "You hum it all the time, Constance."

   "So that has to mean I want to be Bobby's girl?" She leaned against her
door.  "It's true, you know."

   "What's true?" She'd given him conflicting signals.

   "You DO have someone else.  You've ALWAYS had someone else."

   "I don't have anybody else right now," he said.

   "Yes you do.  You still go see Erica, and I know you and the twins are
..." She stopped, and then started again.  "Never mind.  There are lots of
women, Bobby, and you know it."

   "You never seemed to care before," said Bobby.

   "Why would I waste my time?" she asked.  "I can't compete with them!  I
could never compete with them.  They were all so beautiful, and sexy, and
they LOVED you, Bobby.  I could see it in their eyes!"

   "They didn't love me," said Bobby, quietly.  "They needed me ...  some
of them for a little while, and some longer ...  but they didn't love me.
Not like you're talking about."

   "You are such an idiot, Bobby Dalton!" snapped Constance.  "Every one of
those women would have married you if you'd asked them!"

   "That's not true," said Bobby, his voice steady.  "We've been all over
this, Connie." He was quiet for a few seconds.  "And you're wrong about not
being able to compete either.  You could have competed any time you wanted
to."

   "Are you INSANE?" she yelped.  "I've loved you since the first week I
knew you!  I heard that song when I was ten, and I had dreams for years of
meeting my Bobby.  And all the time I was a mousy little girl with crooked
teeth, and boys didn't pay any attention to me.  Then YOU came tromping
into my life, and you made love to my MOTHER, AND GAVE ME A BROTHER AND
SISTER AND ..."

   She was cut off when he lunged across the seat and kissed her, to shut
her up.  Part of that was because she was right.  He'd been twenty-one,
when they met, and she seventeen.  He'd thought of her more as a sister,
back then, of a sort.  He'd been making love to several of his sisters for
years, Connie just hadn't been like that.  He'd been interested, but she
hadn't been ready for that, and he'd shied away from her for that reason.

   But the other reason he kissed her was because he couldn't help himself.
Her confession had opened a window in his heart, and bright sunshine had
blazed in through it.  When she'd said she loved him, that night in his
room in the barn, he'd interpreted it as friendship love.  Even the kisses
hadn't penetrated the shell he'd built between himself and Constance.  He'd
known she was just comforting him, and he'd taken her kisses as that ... 
comfort.  It was important to him in a critical way, but he still
classified them as comfort kisses.

   Now, though, things she'd done ...  things she'd said took on a deeper
meaning.  It hadn't been as platonic as he'd thought, and he realized that
the feelings he'd had for her hadn't been as platonic as he'd tried to make
them either.

   She pushed him away.

   "Stop," she moaned.

   "I love you," he said.

   "No you don't," she whined.  "You don't even know what love is.  You
said so yourself."

   "Connie," he said.  He meant to go on, to tell her everything he felt,
but it was so jumbled up inside him ...  there was so much to say ...  that
he couldn't put it in order.  If he spoke now, it would be like tossing
pieces of wood on the floor and expecting her to be able to envision the
table they'd make, if they were put together.  "Don't push me away," he
finally said.

   "I can't take this, Bobby," she moaned.  "You've broken my heart so many
times."

   "I didn't know," he pleaded.  "I didn't mean to ...  I wasn't thinking."


   "I finally got you out of my system when Tim came along.  I was so
happy." He could hear, in her voice, the tears building in her eyes.  "And
then he was gone, and you were there again." She started sniffling.

   "I've always loved you too," said Bobby.  His own voice cracked.

   "No you didn't," she moaned.

   "Yes I did!" he insisted.  "I just didn't know it, Connie.  I was so
blind and stupid."

   "You didn't look blind and stupid," she wailed.  "You loved those women
and they loved you!  I know that's true, and you do too!"

   He sat back, in the middle of the bench seat.

   "OK, you're right.  I loved them.  But not like I loved you.  I can't
explain it, Connie.  I just realized it a few minutes ago."

   "Now you're just trying to get into my panties," she blurted.

   "No I'm not!" he said, his voice intense.

   "Well WHY NOT?" She bawled.

   Bobby's face, could it have been seen in the darkness of the interior of
the car, would have been something artists could have worked with for
years, to show how multiple emotions could be shown at the same time. 
There was concern, and confusion.  There were elements of a smile that had
to do with his amazement at the complexities of women.  There was tender
love that he had just admitted to himself, and there was worry that
something precious was in the balance ...  and might be lost.  His response
was one of instinct.  He couldn't have explained it.  He just went with
what he felt was the right thing to say.

   "OK, I do want to get into your panties.  I've wanted to since you were
seventeen.  I didn't because I didn't think that would be good for you.  I
still want to, but this isn't the time for that.  Right now I just want to
talk to you.  We need to work this out.  I do love you, and this is
important."

   "You do?" Her voice was a squeak.

   He had no idea exactly what her question was about, but he knew the
right answer.

   "Yes."

   He let her think.

   "What do we do now?" she asked, her voice a little steadier.

   "I think we should talk about this," he said.

   "We talk all the time," she replied.

   "Come here," he said, reaching for her hand.

   She let him pull her over to him as he scooted back behind the wheel and
reached for the lever that would slide the seat backwards.  She ended up
lying across the seat, facing him, as he held her to his chest.  Their
faces were right in front of each other, but that didn't last long, because
she buried her face in his chest.  He stroked her hair.

   "Tell me what you're worried about," he said softly.

   Her head came back and a streetlight showed him her shocked face.

   "What am I worried about?" she gasped.  "I'm worried about everything,
Bobby!"

   He couldn't help but smile.  "Can you be a little more specific?"

   "I don't knooooow," she moaned, burying her face in his chest again.

   "Are you worried about the other women?"

   She pulled back and, in the dim glow of a street light, he could see the
astonishment on her face.

   "Of COURSE I am!" she snapped.  "What woman wants her man to hop into
bed with every other woman in sight?"

   "I don't hop into bed with every woman in sight," he objected.  Her
glare was murderous.  She didn't even have to say anything.  "OK," he
admitted.  "There have been a lot of women.  But that's all over now." Her
murderous glare didn't diminish a bit.  "Mostly ..." he added weakly.

   "Do you love Matilda and Betty?" she asked, her voice low.

   "Of course I do," he said.  "You can't hold that against me!"

   "Bobby, they have no intention of EVER finding another man!  They've
talked to me about you.  You're all the man they want or need.  At least
that's what THEY think!"

   "Well ...  they'll just have to change their minds," he said.  It
sounded lame even to him.

   "And my mother.  If she wants you in bed ...  will you tell her no?"

   "Come on, Connie," he moaned.

   "And that's just three of them," snorted Constance.

   His head fell back onto the seat.  "I don't know WHAT to do!" he
groaned. "Maybe I should just leave ...  move away somewhere, and start all
over."

   He felt her hands, which were around his trunk, tighten.  "You can't do
that," she said.  "They need you."

   "But what about what I need?" he moaned.  "I need YOU, Connie.  I think
I've probably needed you all along.  You're my best friend.  When I'm with
you I feel like I'm just Bobby.  I don't have to play any games, or think
about what to do.  I can just be myself.  I love you, Connie!  If I hadn't
been so stupid I'd have realized it years ago."

   It was quiet in the car for a long time.

   "You can't leave," she said again.  "You need to be around your
children. I've seen you with them.  I can't imagine what it must be like to
see them and pretend to be somebody other than their father."

   "They have good parents," he said.  "They're in good homes."

   "I couldn't do that, Bobby," she said.  "If I had your babies, I'd have
to have you too, to be there and help me raise them, to be their daddy."

   She'd hit on one of the things that bothered him the most.  He felt the
darkness, a darkness that was so much blacker than anything mere night
could produce, the darkness she had pulled him out of such a short time
before.  He pushed at it, pulling her close to him.  Her body in his arms
was like a security blanket.

   "I'll do whatever you want," he said.

   She snorted.

   "Please, Connie," he begged.  "I'm so tired.  I need you.  You're the
only thing that will keep me sane."

   "Keep you sane?" she asked.  Her voice sounded odd.  "I'm not sure you
were ever sane."

   "Come on," he moaned.  "It's not THAT bad."

   "You're like a puppy," she said.  "You want attention from every person
you meet, and you wag your tail, and lick their hand.  And you're so cute
that nobody can resist you, so they all pet you and love you and ...  It
just drives me crazy!"

   He lifted his head off the seat, and looked at her face.  "Do you love
me?" he asked.

   Her lips went to a firm line.

   "You said you've loved me since you met me," he reminded her.  "Your
mother said you love me.  Do you still love me?"

   "Why should I be any different?" she sighed.  "I love a cute puppy too."


   "I'm not talking about that," he said.  "You're obviously disgusted with
me ...  but do you love me?"

   "If you kiss me right now I'll just KILL you, Bobby!" she snapped.

   "You're afraid of a little kiss?" It was the first time something like
teasing had taken place in the car, that night.  His voice held a smile in
it, and it was the kind of smile that makes people near it want to smile
too.

   "Kissing you is a little like touching something hot on the stove," she
said.  "If you have a brain, you know you shouldn't do that again."

   He leaned closer to her, and she licked her lips.

   "Don't do it, Bobby," she said, a little breathlessly.

   "Why?" he asked.  "What will you do if I do?" He smiled.  "And don't
tell me you'll kill me.  I know that's not true."

   "Please, Bobby," she moaned.  "You don't know what it's been like for
me. I've wanted you for so long."

   "Aren't I offering me to you now?" he asked.

   "I don't know," she whined.  "I don't know."

   Suddenly he felt the depth of her anguish, and he knew he was
responsible for it.  He hadn't tried to punish her, or hurt her, but it had
happened anyway.  He knew, based on his experience with women, that he
could seduce Constance Harris.  He could get her into bed and rock her
world, just like he'd rocked the worlds of so many other women.  But he
also knew it would be the wrong thing to do.  He knew it would hurt her. 
It was almost like she was seventeen again, back when he wanted to do the
same things with her that he wanted to do right now.  He hadn't done them
then.  That had been instinct.  Somehow he'd known back then that she would
not blossom, like some of the others had.  And he knew the same thing now.
He didn't know how to give her what she needed.

   He sank back against the seat, and pulled her against his chest.  He
just held her, wondering if he'd ever be truly happy, and if he could ever
help Constance be truly happy.  

 Chapter Twenty-eight



   In another car, driven by Mirriam Dalton, the situation was much less
tense.

   "I'm really glad we came here," said Jeff.

   "We have some of the best tall grass prairie that's left," said Mirriam.


   "That's not what I'm talking about," he said.

   She looked sideways at him.  "What ARE you talking about?" she asked.

   "Well, let me count the ways," he said.  "I was raised on a farm, and
it's good to be back on the land, whether it has tall grass on it or not. I
hadn't realized how much I missed a small town either.  Manhattan isn't
that big, really, but it's a cosmopolitan environment.  That's kind of odd,
when you think about it, because a big part of the university program is
agricultural.  Anyway, it's good to be on a farm again, especially since I
don't have to do the work." He grinned.  "And then, of course, there's
you."

   "Me?" It came out in an almost squeak.

   "I like being around you, Mirriam," he said.

   "Are you flirting with me?" she asked, trying to make it sound like a
joke.

   "I believe I am," he said, quite seriously.

   "Well that's totally inappropriate!" she said, trying to make her voice
firm.

   "Why is that?" he asked.  "You have no man in your life.  I've been
living with you for a month, and haven't seen hide nor hair of any men
sniffing around your door.  I'm amazed at that, by the way."

   "You're boarding with me," she said.  There was objection in her voice.

   "And there's some kind of rule that says I can't be interested in you
because I'm renting a room from you?"

   She was silent.  He didn't know her background.  That kind of thing
hadn't come up in casual conversation.  He didn't know Prudence's either.
But he'd noticed that both women had young children ...  and no man.  That
suggested both still had reserves of passion in them.  Both were good
women, but he was fascinated with Mirriam.  He'd met about half her family
since he'd been in town, and he was impressed with all of them.



   "Of course, if you're just not interested," he said, "that's a horse of
a different color.  But I don't think your relationship to the B&B
should have anything to do with it.  I'm certainly not suggesting that I'll
go elsewhere if you're not interested."

   "I should hope not," she said firmly.

   He noticed that she hadn't said she wasn't interested.  He took that as
a positive sign.

   "So ...  am I being rebuffed or not?" he asked.

   Her hands fidgeted on the steering wheel.  He noticed she took several
deep breaths.

   "I guess that wasn't a fair question," he suggested.

   "No," she said.  "It wasn't."

   He smiled in the darkness.

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

   "You can't make love to me," moaned Agatha.

   Jim was unbuttoning her dress.  It was one of the few dresses she could
still wear now that her belly was almost bursting.

   "I'm not trying to make love to you," said Jim.  "Not yet.  That will be
for later.  I'm just trying to help you be more comfortable." She felt
exposed in her heavy bra and panties.  Her breasts had grown, along with
the baby.  She was in a strange house, though the man she was with was no
longer a stranger to her.  There was a steaming tub of water in front of
her.  She felt his hands move to the catch of her bra, and felt the tension
loosen.

   She'd been complaining about aches and pains, and he'd said she should
soak in a deep bathtub, because that would make her feel less heavy.  She'd
said she couldn't get in and out of a bathtub without help.  He'd offered
to help her.

   And now, suddenly, here she was, almost naked with a man again.  She
hadn't been naked with a man in almost nine months.  She couldn't help but
remember that being naked with a man nine months ago had led her to the
situation she was now in.  Her baby wasn't due for another three weeks, and
she was quite sure she would never survive those weeks.  Jim was wonderful.
She still couldn't get over the fact that he was interested in her, even
though she was carrying another man's baby, and couldn't do with a man what
most men expected a woman to do with them, when the relationship got this
far along.  All that was based on what Bobby had told her, of course. 
She'd never been in a relationship like this before.

   She didn't count what Bobby had done as a "relationship" exactly.  She
had set out to seduce him, but then had let him seduce her.  It had been
wild and crazy and more fun than anything she could remember.  She loved
Bobby, but she didn't feel deeply for him like she did for Jim.  Jim was so
patient, and kind.  And his interest in her was obviously genuine.  She
felt her panties descend her legs.

   "You're so beautiful," he sighed.

   "You're insane," she breathed.  She felt grotesquely swollen.

   "I'm not insane at all," he said.  "I'm a connoisseur of beautiful
women. I know a babe when I see one."

   "You're seeing a babe, all right," she said.  "It just hasn't been born
yet."

   "Get in the water," he said.  "I'm having a hard time controlling
myself."

   "What could you possibly do?" she asked.  "I look like I swallowed a
watermelon!"

   "Oh, sweet woman who has stolen my heart," he sighed.  "You have so much
to learn about men.  Now get in the water."

   He helped her get in and then sit.  She felt lighter immediately, and
the ache in her back eased.  The hot water, and the delightful easing of
aches and pains made her moan.

   "Better?" he asked, staring down at her.  His eyes went to her breasts,
which looked like two balloons trying to floating on the water.

   "You're staring at me," she said.

   "I am," he admitted.

   She thought about Bobby, and what he'd taught her to do.  Her hand tried
to reach between her legs.  She could just barely reach, but it wasn't
really comfortable to stretch like that.  Her belly was in the way.  She
was amazed that she felt so comfortable like this, in front of this man. 
His kisses electrified her, and his hands, smoothing along her sides, or
back, or flanks made her feel what she now recognized was "horny." She knew
he'd do anything for her that she wanted him to.  Still, he hadn't pushed
it.



   He'd made his interest in her very clear.  He'd offered to be her coach
when she gave birth, and had attended Lamaze training sessions with her. 
She loved his daughter, and couldn't understand how any woman could have
walked away from him.  She hadn't met his ex-wife yet, and didn't really
want to.  She'd seen the woman a few times, when she dropped Cathy off, or
Jim delivered their daughter back to her primary residence.  She looked
normal, but Agatha didn't see how she could be.

   She looked at him, standing there looking at her.  The front of his
pants was bulging, and he didn't seem to be embarrassed about that.  She
liked it that he was honest about how he felt.

   "You've seen me naked," she said.  "It doesn't seem fair that I
haven’t seen you that way." She felt her face get hot, and it flitted
through her mind that she was acting like a harlot.  She decided she didn't
care, when his eyes widened and he smiled.

   He displayed no unease at taking his clothes off in front of her.  He
wasn't what she'd call a strikingly handsome man.  He had brown hair and
brown eyes, and his cheeks were a little heavy.  She saw, as he removed his
shirt, that he was a little heavy around the waist too.  That could be
worked off with walking, which she planned to do after she gave birth, to
get her own figure back.  When he stood up from pushing his pants down, she
stared at his penis.  It was hard.  She had known that Bobby's was nothing
like Harry's, but she'd still expected this one to look familiar somehow.
It didn't.  It wasn't like either of the ones she'd seen before.

   "Better?" he asked.  She could hear the insecurity in his voice, even if
he didn't show it in his stance.

   "Much," she said.  She saw him relax then.

   "You know ...  that bathtub is probably big enough for both of us."

   She laughed.  She felt like a whale, floating in a fish tank.  "No way,"
she said.

   He proved her wrong.

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

   Hours later, as she lay on her side, her knees bent, feeling relaxed for
the first time in a long time, not counting the tub, she sighed.  It was
late.

   "I should go," she said.  "I don't want to, but I should.  My brother
will be wondering where I am."

   "You're a big girl," he said.  "I'll call him and tell him you're fine,
and that you're staying here for the night."

   "He'd be scandalized," she said, automatically.

   "I'd like you to stay," he said.

   His hand smoothed over her side, to run in a circle over her swollen
belly, and then rise to cup and squeeze a breast.  She'd found out that a
pregnant woman CAN be made love to, even if not in the conventional way.

   She hadn't realized how much more sensitive her nipples were, this close
to delivery, and his lips on them had made her feel like she was going into
labor.  The baby moved inside her, rolling as she felt the streaks of
pleasure.  She'd even made him stop for a while, but had soon realized that
the baby was just sharing her emotions.

   He'd given her pleasure with his fingers, which could reach where hers
had to stretch to touch, and her orgasm had been warm and soft.  She'd
masturbated him too, having him stand beside the bed, so she could reach
him as she lay on her side.  He'd been almost laughingly delighted when he
found out she would use her mouth on him, and she knew, even though he
didn't say so, that his ex-wife had refused to do that.

   His semen had tasted different than Bobby's, but she decided to like it.
She knew she'd get to taste it a lot, and that was something to look
forward to.

   Then he had lain with her, spooning her from behind, his hands always
moving over her body somewhere.  It was when she caught herself falling
asleep that she had said she should go.

   "No," she said.  "I should go.  I'll talk to them and explain.  They've
been too good to me to cause them worry."

   "I hope we can do this again," he said.

   She rolled, with difficulty, to give him a kiss, and her hand searched
for and found his penis and balls, to caress them.  She didn't have to say
it would happen again.  Not in words.

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

   She had to laugh when Jim helped her into the house.  Michelle was
sitting in an overstuffed armchair, reading a book, her legs curled under
her.

   "Sorry I'm so late," said Agatha.

   "Is it late?" asked Michelle.  She wasn't wearing a watch.  "Hi, Jim."
Both she and George had met him the first time he took Agatha out.  They'd
invited him to dinner twice since then, and he'd accepted both times.

   "I wanted to kidnap her, but she made me bring her home," said Jim.  He
gave Agatha a quick kiss and left.

   "Did you have a good time?" asked Michelle, when Agatha eased into
another chair.

   "I had a wonderful time," she sighed.

   "I knew he was serious when he offered to be your coach," said Michelle.


   "I guess so," said Agatha.  She hadn't really talked to Michelle or
George about how she felt about Jim.  They hadn't questioned her about it.
Even if they had, she wasn't sure she could put it into words.

   "Maybe next time you should let him kidnap you."

   Agatha looked at her sister-in-law, who was smiling.  It didn't look
like the kind of smile that went with an attempted joke.

   "You think so?"

   "The good ones don't come along all that often," said Michelle.

   "I'm not sure what a good one looks like," said Agatha.

   Michelle could have made a remark about Agatha's pregnant condition, but
she didn't.  Agatha had made several comments about Harry.  None of them
had been very positive.  On the other hand, she had never talked about the
man who had gotten her pregnant.  And she had never complained that she WAS
pregnant.  That suggested that she'd met at least one good man along the
way.

   "From what I see, he's a good man," suggested Michelle.

   "I like him," said Agatha.  "I like him a lot."

   "Then go with your heart," said Michelle.  She got up and left the room.
She came back in a few minutes and handed a key to Agatha.  "We should have
given you a key to the house long ago."

   "You waited up for me!" moaned Agatha.  "I won't have to any more."
Michelle smiled, and leaned down to kiss Agatha's cheek.  "Go with your
heart, honey," she whispered.

   Chapter Twenty-nine



   The Independence Day celebration arrived.  It would turn out to be, as
had been the case in Granger in the past ...  memorable.

   Bobby arrived with Constance on his arm.  That in itself, wasn't
unusual. For him to be seen with her was quite common.  But she didn't let
go of his arm this time.  She was quite possessive, in fact, even when it
turned out that Jennifer and Candy had, indeed, found a couple of young men
at the roadhouse and were at the picnic with those men.  They were a little
shameless about it too, which drew the attention of Ethyl, Gladys and their
gaggle of stern-faced friends.

   That only lasted until Agatha Roberts showed up.  One of her arms was
linked through that of the man walking beside her, and the other was
burdened with a picnic basket.  She walked into the park as if nothing was
different about her at all, even though she had to waddle to get anywhere.
Eyes went to that belly, and then to the man she was with.  Eyes went to
his left hand, and hers, searching in vain for rings there.

   A scandalized hush fell over one group of women, all of whom stared at
one of their own ...  or someone who had been one of their own.  They
couldn't know that Jim was almost holding her up, because her knees were so
weak.  Had they looked more closely at the smile on her face, they would
have seen that it was composed of muscles that were tense, and frozen in
place, rather than being a natural smile that moved and shifted as the
muscles moved and shifted.

   She couldn't make herself go up to her old friends, and make a false
inquiry as to how they were doing.  She knew what they were thinking. 
Instead, she looked for Bobby.  When she saw him, sitting with Constance,
their fingers interlaced in a casually intimate fashion, she pulled Jim in
that direction.

   Mirriam saw her first, and her face lit up in a smile.  She nudged
Prudence, who was next to her, and said something.  Prudence looked over
and smiled too.

   Those two smiles did more for Agatha than anything else could have.  She
knew they couldn't help but notice her condition too, but it didn't make
any difference to them.  She pulled Jim to the table and lowered herself
carefully onto a folding chair across from Mirriam.

   "I had to come say hello." She'd wondered what she'd say in this
situation.  What she'd just said hadn't been one of the phrases she'd
thought about using.

   "All the way from Ohio just to say hello?" gasped Mirriam.  "In YOUR
condition?  That's insane!" Her face relaxed.  "It's SO good to see you,
though.  Congratulations!"

   "Thank you," said Agatha shyly.  She was aware that Bobby was only a few
feet further down the table, but she hadn't been able to force herself to
make eye contact with him.  "This is Jim," she said.

   "You know most everybody," said Mirriam in return.  She turned to the
man sitting on the other side of her from Prudence.  "This is Professor
Hamilton, who is boarding with us for the summer.  He's a researcher and is
studying the prairie grasses or some such thing." She looked back at the
man standing with Agatha.  She gave him what was obviously the once-over.
"Well, Jim ...  any man smart enough to latch onto this woman is a man
welcome at our table." Her assumption that Agatha's condition was Jim's
doing was clear.  "There's lots to eat, so just dig in."

   Jim started getting things out of the picnic basket Agatha had set on
the table.  Mirriam and Prudence peppered Agatha with questions about Ohio,
and how she was doing.

   "There haven't been any nibbles on your house," said Mirriam sadly.

   "I'm doing OK," said Agatha.  "It would be nice to sell it, but Harry
got it from his parents when they died, and it's paid for, so it's not
really a burden."

   Her eyes flicked to Bobby, who was looking at her with a face she
couldn't decide what communicated.  There might be some surprise there, but
otherwise his face looked almost sad.  She couldn't believe he'd be sad for
her.  She'd found one of the men he had told her was out there, after all.
She couldn't force herself to look at him longer.  As her eyes slid back,
she saw Constance looking at her too.  Her eyebrows were furrowed in a
small frown.

   "Hi Constance," she said softly, and then her eyes came back to the
women across the table from her.

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

   Erica Bradford was the next to arrive, pushing a baby buggy across the
grass with seven-month old Owen in it.  She came and sat down next to Jim,
across from Bobby and Constance, as if they had been expecting her.

   "What a beautiful night," she said.  "Have any of you seen Will or
Christy?"

   "That looks like them coming right now," said Prudence, pointing. 
Everyone turned to look except Agatha, who couldn't turn that far any more.
Will was striding along.  The light reflected off the new mechanical clamp,
on his left arm.  It looked a little like some kind of torture device, with
the two sweeping hooks that he was able to open and close by moving the
muscles in his shoulder.  Christy held onto that arm, though, as if it were
perfectly normal.  He carried their picnic basket in his right hand.

   "Captain Hook has arrrrived!" Will rolled the R and spoke with the gruff
voice and accent that was clearly supposed to be that of a pirate. 
"Arrrgh," he added, grinning.  "Found meself a young lassie too.  Methinks
I'm going to make her into my serving wench."

   "I hope you're not hungry, Captain," said Christy, dryly.

   "Just kidding," said Will.

   "No you're not," said Christy.  She grinned, though.

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

   The incident happened when Jim was escorting Agatha to get some homemade
ice cream.  He offered to go get it for her, but she said she needed to get
up and move around, because her legs were going numb.  They came face to
face with Ethyl, who was leaving the table with a bowl of ice cream.

   "I knew you were a hussy," said Ethyl, a superior look on her face.

   Something in Agatha snapped.  She'd been afraid of this woman, and what
she thought for years.  She felt like she'd been hoodwinked by her too.  As
she looked back on her friendship with Ethyl and the others, it looked like
a drab and ghostly thing, full of unhappiness and discontent.  Agatha
hadn't planned on saying anything to her old friends at all.  What was the
point?  But now, anger gave her the courage to say something.  Her hand
squeezed Jim's arm hard.

   "And I knew you were a bitch," said Agatha.

   "Well I NEVER!" gasped Ethyl.

   "That's right," said Agatha.  "You never found what I found, because if
you had, you wouldn't be the dried up bitter prune you are.  You almost
made me that way too.  I feel sorry for you, Ethyl."

   Agatha pulled at Jim's arm and stepped past Ethyl, with as much dignity
as she could muster.  She wished she didn't have to waddle like this in
front of the woman.

   "Good job!" whispered Jim.

   "It wasn't nice," said Agatha, feeling shame that she'd been so rude.

   "I forgive you," he said.

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

   It was just as the dancing started that the next interesting thing
happened.  A stranger appeared, and walked straight toward the tables where
Mirriam and her friends were sitting.  He came up behind Erica and stood,
looking down at her and smiling.  When everyone else stared up at him,
Erica finally turned around.

   "Terry!" she squealed.

   "I thought I'd come down here and see what all the fuss was about," he
said, grinning.

   Introductions were required, and made.

   "And who is this?" he asked, leaning over the baby buggy.

   "That's Owen," said Erica.  Her cheeks were tinged with pink.

   "I've heard a lot about you, little man," said Terry.  "Where'd you get
your looks?  It sure couldn't have been your mother.  You're a handsome
thing."

   There were long seconds of stunned silence, and Terry looked up, to see
everyone staring at him.

   "Just kidding," he said.  "She's gorgeous.  Anybody could see that."

   People began to relax and he asked Erica to let him apologize by dancing
with her.  Mirriam and Prudence said they'd look after Owen.  She stood and
walked away with him toward the bandstand.  As soon as she was gone they
let the poor boy out of the buggy, to run around and explore.

   The band started playing a slow song.  Agatha stood up.  Her face was
flushed.  Someone who didn't know her might have thought she had been
drinking.  She faced Bobby and Constance.

   "Constance ...  can I borrow Bobby for one dance?"

   Connie's eyes widened.  She looked over at Bobby, and then back to
Agatha.  Her eyes slid down to Agatha's bulging belly.  Agatha had stayed
at the B&B.  Constance had been as astonished as her mother, when she'd
seen Agatha there, because of her past associations.  But later, she knew
Agatha had changed.  And Bobby had been there too, of course.  Bobby had a
tendency to change women.



   Constance assumed something too, but it wasn't what Mirriam had assumed.
She let go of Bobby's hand and then waved with just her wrist, letting her
hand flip up twice.  She looked disgusted, but her eyes were on Bobby.  He
got up, looking helpless.

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

   "I know I should have told you sooner," said Agatha.  Trying to dance
with Bobby, even though it was a slow song, was difficult.  She felt very
odd, somehow, because having their baby sandwiched between them just felt
very right, somehow.

   "Why didn't you?" he asked.  He had been looking stunned ever since she
told him she was several months pregnant when she met Jim.  She didn't have
to tell him the baby pressed to his stomach was his.

   "I knew you'd try to do the right thing," she said.  She felt a moment
of unease.  How did she know that?  She realized she'd just assumed it, and
might be wrong.  She didn't want to face that possibility, and went on
before he could speak.  "But I didn't want to do the right thing with you,
Bobby."

   "I see." It didn't sound like he was sure about that.

   "I couldn't stay here, Bobby," she said.  "I don't want to hurt your
feelings, but I don't love you.  Not like I feel about Jim, anyway."

   "You didn't hurt my feelings," said Bobby.

   "I do love you," she said softly.  "It just doesn't feel like the
marrying kind of love."

   "And you feel that with Jim?" he asked.

   "He's hinted at marriage.  I think he's scared.  I'm not.  If he asked
me I'd say yes instantly," she said.

   "He hasn't asked you?"

   "No," she said.  "Not really.  But it's OK.  What we have is very good,
I think.  Maybe that will happen, and maybe not.  The only thing that's
complicating it is that I feel a little bad about making George and
Michelle put up with a baby in the house, though.  I wish somebody would
buy my house so I could move into my own place.  At the same time, I keep
hoping I don't need someplace of my own ...  because of Jim."

   "If you feel that strongly, why don't you ask him to marry YOU," said
Bobby.

   She laughed.  "That's not done, Bobby."

   "This is the seventies," said Bobby.  "I know for a fact that at least a
few women have asked a man to marry them."

   "What if he says no?" she asked.

   The music ended, and they started walking back toward the tables.

   "Do you think he might say no?"

   They walked another twenty yards slowly as she thought about that.

   "He loves me," she said.  "I know that.  And I love him.  It's so
strange, because it's all so new.  I don't know what to think." She looked
over at Bobby.  "He's going to be my Lamaze coach."

   "Sounds pretty serious to me," said Bobby.

   "I want it to be," she said.

   "And he came all the way here with you," said Bobby.

   "He did." She laughed.  "And he didn't complain, even though we had to
stop a hundred times for me to go to the bathroom."

   "You want me to ask him for you?"

   She stopped and turned to stare into his face.

   "You do, and I'll tell everybody here whose baby this is, Bobby Dalton!"


   "I'm not ashamed of you," said Bobby.  "Or of what we did."

   She blinked.  Then she smiled.  "I should have known that.  Never mind.
I'm a big girl.  I can take care of myself." She reached for his hand and
squeezed it.  "I think I have you to thank for that fact."

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

   Other eyes saw Agatha Roberts dance with Bobby Dalton, and tongues
wagged.  Those eyes saw her reach for Bobby's hand too, and assessed the
ease with which she was next to him.  There were gasps of dismay as
upright, righteous women realized that evil had snatched another woman from
the clutches of all that was good and decent.  There should have been
mourning ...  but there wasn't.  There were only hisses of condemnation.

   Yet another person saw Agatha take Bobby’s hand, and also assessed
the familiarity with which she stood close to him.  That woman also felt
dismay … and rage.

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

   Constance didn't want to dance.

   "I'm tired, and I don't feel well," she said, frowning at Bobby.  "I'd
like to go home now."

   "I'll take you," he said.

   "I know where I live," she replied.  She got up and walked off.

   Bobby looked after her and felt helpless.  It was obvious that she knew,
somehow, what Agatha had told him.  She was a woman, and women got
knowledge through strange and mystical methods.

   Prudence stood up.  She picked up her empty ice cream bowl, as if she
were going to go throw it in the trash.  She stopped, right by Bobby.  "Go
after her," she whispered.

   He looked at Prudence, surprise on his face.

   "Don't let her leave the park alone," said Prudence.

   "You know?" asked Bobby.

   "I'm her mother," said Prudence.  "Now go!"

   Chapter Thirty



   She wouldn't walk beside him.  When he caught up to her and tried to
walk alongside her she stopped, and faced away from him.  Her shoulders
were tense.  No matter where he stepped, to try to get her to face him, she
turned away.  He knew better than to touch her.  Something told him not to
speak either.

   When she started away, he simply followed her.  They went for four
blocks that way, his footsteps echoing hers, until she turned, suddenly.

   "Go away!" she said.

   "No."

   "I don't want to talk to you!"

   "I know."

   She turned and stalked off.  He followed her all the way home.  She
opened the front door and went in, slamming it behind her.  He didn't know
what to do then, so he just sat down on the front steps.  Eventually he lay
back on the porch.

   Prudence woke him when she got home.  Kyle and Katherine were tired, and
wanted him to pick them up.  He did, since Prudence was burdened with the
picnic basket.

   "She wouldn't talk to me.  I don't think I should go in," he said.

   "This is my house," said Prudence.  "Put them to bed, will you?"

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

   He had to read them a story, but they fell asleep in the middle of it.
He hadn't seen hide nor hair of either Prudence or Connie, and he thought
to just leave.

   Constance was sitting on the step, where he had been earlier.  He sat
down beside her, but didn't touch her.

   "My mother says I'm an idiot," she said.

   "I don't think you're an idiot."

   "She says you love me."

   He didn't answer that.  He was still confused about how Prudence had
known anything was going on between him and Connie at all.

   "She says I love you too." Even though she had said she loved him in the
past, she didn't sound convinced at all that her mother was right.

   Bobby still sat there, silent.

   "She says I loved you before Tim, and then after him, and that it was
because of who you are ...  who you always were." She looked at him for the
first time.  "What the heck does THAT mean?"

   "I don't know what to think," he admitted.

   "I'm so angry with you!" she said.

   "I know."

   "Every other woman in the whole stinking WORLD gets to have your baby
... but not ME ...  oh no ...  not Constance!" She stood up, agitated. 
"And do you know why?"

   He had no clue, so he just sat there.

   "Because when I have your baby, it will only be when we're MARRIED, and
I wouldn't marry you if you were the LAST MAN ON EARTH!"

   She stomped up the steps and turned the knob of the door.  She paused.
She turned back around.  Bobby was still sitting, staring straight ahead.

   "You know what makes me the maddest of all?" she snapped.

   He turned to look over his shoulder.

   "What makes me just fume is that she's right.  I DO love you!" Her voice
was gruff.

   Then she went inside and slammed the door.

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

   Erica walked slowly beside Terry.  He was pushing Owen.  The night was
glorious, and warm.

   "Thanks for coming," she said.

   "My pleasure," he responded.  "I wanted to meet Owen."

   "Just Owen?"

   She could see his smile in the dim ambient light.

   "You have interesting friends," he said.  "I'm glad I got to meet them
too." They walked on in silence before he spoke again.  "What was up with
that table full of women who were glaring at us?"

   "Oh, those are the town biddies," said Erica.  "They think they're
better than everybody else.  I had a child out of wedlock, and that puts me
on the wrong side of the tracks.  You too, now."

   "Oh horrors," he said mildly.  “There goes my chance at being
invited to Tupperware parties.”

   She didn’t smile.  "Some of my co-workers were there tonight too,"
she sighed.  "None of them came to meet you.  It's really disheartening."

   "If they have a problem with you, then I suspect they aren't my kind of
people anyway," he said.

   She reached out and took his arm, squeezing it against her breast.

   It only took fifteen minutes for them to get to her house.  He'd offered
to drive her, but she'd said she wanted to walk, and that Owen's carriage
wouldn't fit in his car.  When he offered to walk with her, she accepted.
Now she turned to him and took his hand.

   "It's a long way back to your car," she said.

   "It's no big deal."

   "And it's a long way back to Hutch."

   "I can make it."

   "I'd feel really bad if you got in an accident, just because you came to
see me." Her voice was soft.

   "I'm not going to get into an accident," he said.  "Seeing you always
pumps me up."

   She dropped his hand.

   "If you think I'm just going to beg you to stay all night, you have
another think coming, buster!" Her voice was stern.

   He smiled.  Then he yawned, theatrically.

   "Wow, it's really late!" he said, looking at his wrist.  She could see
the watch there, but it was obviously too dark to read the face.  "And I'm
almost out of gas too!  Is there anyplace open in town to get gas?"

   "Not this late," said Erica.

   "Man!" he said, sounding disappointed.  "I didn't plan this well at all.
Is there any way ...  any way at all ...  that you could see your way clear
to let me sleep on the couch?  I won't mess anything up, and I'll leave
early ...  just as soon as a gas station opens up."

   She opened the door and he lifted Owen up onto the porch, buggy and all.
He followed her to what was obviously her bedroom, where there was a crib
in one corner.  Owen was sleeping, and didn't wake up when she laid him
down.  She turned.

   "My brother might come home, so you can't sleep in his bed," she said.
She knew that wasn't likely.  Ever since Christy had accepted his proposal,
he'd all but lived at her house.  "And the couch is lumpy.  You came all
the way here to see me, and it doesn't seem right to make you sleep on a
lumpy couch."

   "Anyplace is fine," he said.  He looked at her bed.  "What about this
bed?"

   "That's my bed," she said.

   "That's a pretty big bed," he said.  "And you're not exactly a huge
person."

   She got tired of playing games, and just undressed.  He watched her,
standing stock still as her pale skin was exposed.  She pushed away a
teensy feeling of insecurity, and stood before him, naked.

   "I'm exhausted," he said.  "I'm absolutely sure I'd wreck my car if I
tried to drive home right now," he sighed.  "I accept your kind offer of a
bed for the night."

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

   He wasn't exhausted.  That became clear over the next two hours.  He
wasn't averse to breast milk either.  When it dripped on him, he simply
solved the problem by sucking both nipples until it didn't drip any more.
He didn't tell her how proud he was that she had half a dozen orgasms while
he did that, or how lucky he felt to be here with her.  She would find that
out, months later, when they were in bed again, and could talk about
anything together.  But he showed her how much passion she had unleashed in
him.

   He showed her four times during the night.

   He also didn't leave at the crack of dawn, as he had suggested he would.
And, when they woke up, the bed was a mess.

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

   Jeff Hamilton's conversation with Mirriam on the drive back to the
B&B was remarkably similar to Terry's.

   "You have fascinating friends," he said.

   "They're good people," said Mirriam.

   "I'd forgotten about the social flows in a small town," he said.  "I'm
glad you have some friends to buffer you from the hoity toity types."

   "Was it that obvious?" she asked.

   "I came from a small town myself," he said.  "It's the same everywhere,
sadly."

   "Your reputation is ruined, you know," she said.  "It was bad enough
that you stayed at our place.  Going to the picnic with me and dancing with
me has sealed your fate."

   She parked the car and they got out.  The only light on in the house was
in the room where both of them knew that Randy and Wanda had probably spent
the whole evening in bed.  They had elected not to go to the party.

   "Doesn't seem fair," he sighed, as they walked in the back door.



   "You didn't have to go," she reminded him.  "Had you stayed away, your
reputation might still be intact."

   "That's not it," he said.  "I don't mind if my reputation is sullied,
not if it's for a good reason." He looked sad.  "But it wasn't damaged for
a good reason."

   "Whatever are you talking about?" she asked, facing him.

   "All those people think something is going on between us," he said,
still looking sad.  "But it's not.  I get the reputation, but not the fun
of earning it.  That's just not fair."

   Mirriam felt the thrill that she'd always felt when a man desired her.
It had been that way with Joe, and then Ted, and even Bobby.  She wondered
if she really WAS the slut that all those horrible women named her as.  All
the things that Prudence had said to her came rushing back into her mind.
He was handsome.  He was ...  temporary ...  in the sense that it wasn't
likely that the relationship would get complicated and require difficult
decisions.  She was on the pill.  She had to be with Bobby around.  Even
so, she hadn't been in bed with Bobby in some time.  She took a deep
breath, and saw his eyes go to her expanding bosom.

   "Do you think you're capable of earning your reputation?" she asked.

   His face lit up, and she knew she was lost.

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

   Bobby drove into the yard and parked.  There were only two lights on in
the house, one upstairs, and in his mother's room.  The twins' car was
there, but there were no lights on in the barn.  They had to work the next
day, and had probably gone to bed already.  He decided to go talk to his
mother about Constance.

   The only thing that saved them from embarrassment was that he heard her
low moan through the door as his hand fell on the knob.  He knew that moan
well, and it stayed his hand.  Then he heard the bedsprings squeaking.  He
was amazed that he hadn't realized they squeaked like that.  He'd never
noticed, while HE was making them squeak.  Another low tone came through
the door, and told him she wasn't taking her pleasure alone.  He'd
forgotten about Jeff.

   Oddly, he felt a measure of relief.  He'd never objected to her
relationship with Ted Brandywine.  That was her business.  He loved her,
and had loved loving her in ways that sons aren't expected to love their
mothers, but he wasn't jealous when she sought passion in the arms of
another man.

   It made him think of Constance.  He envisioned her in some faceless
man's arms.  It wasn't Tim.  Thinking of her with Tim didn't cause him pain
at all.  But this faceless man in his imagination brought thoughts of
murder to his mind.  It was an instant, hot rage, and it scared him.

   He stepped back.  Carefully he tiptoed out of the house, easing the door
closed.  The image of Constance, naked with another man wouldn't leave his
brain.  He took his boots off and went back inside.  Normally, he didn't
drink, but he knew there was a fifth of bourbon in the cupboard.  It had
been there for years, and there was dust on the bottle.  It was a little
over half full.

   The bottle rolled away from his bed, on the floor, empty, before he
finally found the blackness of sleep that drove Connie from his mind.

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

   July passed, quickly for some, and slowly for others.

   For Mirriam, it passed quickly, and she knew the first two weeks of
August would fly by just as fast.  She'd fallen hard for Jeff.  It wasn't
just his lovemaking, which was ardent and physical in a way that couldn't
be pretended.  He was almost insatiable.  At the same time, he did other
things with her that involved no sex at all, unless anticipation is part of
sex.

   He showed her the research site, and the results they'd found.  He
explained that the tall grass was dying out because tall grass required two
things, besides water, to thrive.  One was fire, which was no problem.  But
the other was buffalo.  It was the hooves of the buffalo that had aerated
the soil, more than a hundred years past.  And their droppings fertilized
it.  Cattle, with their flat hooves, compacted the soil, instead of
loosening it, and most ranchers wanted grass that baled better than the
thick stalks of the tall grass did.  What had covered the plains back then,
was now retained only in three or four places.  Less than a two hundred
thousand acres of it remained, and that probably wouldn't last long,
without some kind of preservation attempt.

   She listened, fascinated as he proposed rebuilding the bison herds, and
letting them roam on vast preserves.  His eyes lit up when he talked about
that.  But the light in his eyes died when he admitted that economics
probably wouldn't allow it.  The land was too fruitful when used for other
things, and money drove everything.

   Then, at night, he came to her room, or she to his, and they coupled
like teenagers who had just discovered the joys of sex.

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

   For Bobby the time dragged.  His repair business was doing well, but
there was no joy in it any longer.  Christy had Will.  Jill had Sal. 
Rhonda was wrapped up in working with Renee, and raising Elizabeth.  Janet
had met a man at the supermarket and was dating him.  Liz's ardor, or her
husband's, had died down and she hadn't called him in months.  Annie had a
boyfriend, and Felicity had her hands full with taking care of children and
trying to make Chester's remaining years as joyful as possible.  Misty was
on the road, and Agatha was probably going to get married.  That man had
come to see Erica from Hutchinson, on the 4th of July.  His mother had a
lover now, and he knew better than to even think about Prudence.

   He was left with Renee and maybe Erica, here in town, and Amanda in
Hutch.  And the twins, of course.  Them or, finding other women.  He knew
he could.  Paula would find other women for him, if he asked her too.  For
that matter, Felicity might too.  She had lots of rich, probably bored
friends.

   But he didn't feel like doing that.  Somehow, even going and finding
Erica, or Renee or Amanda seemed like too much work now.  He loved Connie,
but he’d ruined that.  And that ruined everything else for him.  He
couldn't even work up any excitement about the twins, which bothered them
no end, because they thought he was mad at them for something.  They'd even
talked to him about it.

   "It's not you guys," he'd said.

   "Well what IS it then?"

   They didn't know what had happened in his room that night.  All they
knew was that his black mood was gone when he and Constance came out in the
morning.  They simply thought she had finally climbed on the Bobby express,
like they had.

   "I've just got a few problems to work out," he said, vaguely.

   "You're not sick, are you?" asked Betty.  She looked stricken.  "Bobby!
You don't have cancer ...  do you?"

   "No." He smiled and hugged her.  "It's nothing like that."

   He spent lots of time away from home, rather than face them.  But his
suicidal depression didn't return.  Rather, he accepted the fact that he'd
blown it.  He hadn't recognized how Connie felt about him in time to do
anything about it.  He spent hours up in the tree house, trying to figure
out if he'd known, how that might have changed things.

   His dilemma was that he knew his activities with all the women had
created good things ...  positive things.  It wasn't just the babies.  In a
sense, they were side effects.  He didn't like thinking of it like that,
but it seemed true.  But the women would have been just as happy, as far as
he could figure out, even if there hadn't been any babies.

   Connie was right.  He HAD loved each woman, each in her own unique way,
and they had loved him.  But, like Agatha had said, it wasn't the marrying
kind of love - for any of them - and they moved on.

   That left him here ...  alone.  He had helped them all ...  but he
couldn't help himself.

   Constance didn't call.  And he couldn't call her.  Even her last
outburst ...  her confession of love ...  had sounded hurt, as if she
didn't WANT to love him.  She loved him ...  maybe a fraction of the amount
she had loved Tim.  She'd gotten over Tim.  Maybe it would be easier for
her to get over him too.



   He determined to let her do that.  What was important was HER happiness.
He had his work.  He knew he'd perk up soon, and start making the rounds of
his children again.

   That would have to be enough.

   Chapter Thirty-one



   Suzie got home in late July.  She arrived without calling ahead, and
with no fanfare.  She had a week before she needed to be in Kansas City, to
find an apartment and get ready for med school.  She stopped at the Chumley
manor first, though no one in her family knew that.  She thanked them again
and they kept her there for over an hour as she described what their
scholarship had meant to her.

   She left stunned.  No student loans for medical school would be
necessary, if she agreed to come back to Granger and practice medicine
there.  They'd pay everything, including the stipend to live on, so she
wouldn't have to work.

   "Give us five or six years, here in Granger," Chester had said.  "We'll
call it even after that."

   "It's too much!" Suzie had gasped.

   "A drop in the bucket." Chester had waved a hand negligently.  It had
held a cigar in it.

   "You need to stop smoking those things," Suzie had pointed out.

   He had laughed.  Felicity had hugged her, and walked to the front door
with her.

   Now she parked, feeling the euphoria of knowing that she wouldn't be in
debt up to her eyeballs when medical school was over.  She was home.  She
could relax and do nothing for a whole week!  She'd get to see her mamma,
and her sisters.

   And she'd get to see Bobby.

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

   Bobby, as it turned out, was gone on a job when Suzie got there.  The
twins were at work too, so she got to spend some time with her mother.

   Even though Suzie wasn't a doctor yet, hadn't even received her white
coat yet, in her mother's mind she was already a physician.  The news about
the Chumley's extended "scholarship" only reinforced that perception.

   And people will talk to a doctor ...  at least one they trust.

   It was from Mirriam, that she learned what the twins had been trying to
find out, about Bobby.  Mirriam was Prudence's best friend, and they had no
secrets.  Prudence had described a daughter who was acting much the same
way Mirriam's son was acting.  Both knew the cause, but neither knew what
to do about it.  It was ironic in the extreme that Mirriam not only asked
her daughter for advice, but that she asked the only daughter who, as far
as Mirriam was aware, had no experience with men either.

   "I have an idea," said Suzie, after a two hour catch-up session.

   "What is it?"

   "Bev," said Suzie.  "She was Connie's best friend."

   Mirriam's eyes widened.  "I should have thought of that!" she moaned.

   Then she told Suzie why she'd been having a hard time thinking about
much of anything, and about the new man in her life.

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

   Suzie found Bev and another catch-up session evolved, this one only an
hour long.  Part of that was admitting to Bev what had happened in
Manhattan.  She left her roommates out of it, but confessed the rest.  Bev
knew what Bobby was like, and wasn't surprised or judgmental.  But she was
agitated when Suzie told her about Connie and Bobby.

   "I knew she was nuts for him," sighed Bev.  "I should have seen this
coming." She stamped a foot.  "But then she met Tim, and I thought it was
all taken care of."

   "Well, if they're right ...  it wasn't." Suzie shrugged.

   Bev frowned.  "When Tim died, I didn't know what to do for her.  We
drifted apart, and I shouldn't have let that happen.  But Bobby was the
only one who could get through to her, so I just let him.  I should have
seen it then too.  I've been so stupid!"

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

   When Bev and Suzie showed up at the door, Prudence was a bit surprised.
When Bev asked, almost shyly, to talk to Constance, Prudence simply stood
back.

   This catch-up session took four hours, and Prudence didn't see or hear a
peep from Connie's room the entire time.  When Bev came out she looked
drawn and tired, but she smiled.

   "You were right," she said.  "She's in love with my brother."

   "I knew it," said Prudence.  She didn't sound like she was happy to be
vindicated.  "Is she OK?"

   "Were you ever OK when you were in love?" asked Bev, with wisdom much
older than her chronological age.  "Were you ever OK when a man was
involved?"

   Prudence smiled.  "Yes, actually.  I was.  And you are too."

   Bev flashed a wide grin.  "I know, but it's so much fun to blame
everything on the man."

   "Where's Suzie?"

   "She's still talking to her."

   "What now?" asked Prudence, looking toward her daughter's door.

   "Now we figure out how to talk to Bobby, and try to straighten all this
out."

   "We?" Prudence felt a stab of fear that Bev would expect her to help
"talk to Bobby." Prudence didn't do well when she talked to Bobby.  She had
a tendency to stare into his blue eyes, and that led to things she was
resolved not to do any more, considering how her daughter felt about the
man those blue eyes belonged to.

   "My sisters and I," said Bev.  "We've ganged up on him in the past. 
We're older now.  It might even work." She smiled tiredly.  "I have to go.
Suzie is going to talk to the twins and Linda.  I need to go find Mary and
Flo.  We're going to try to start things happening."

   "What should I do?" asked Prudence.

   "Just be there for her if this doesn't work out," sighed Bev.

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

   The girls gathered in the twins' room, in the barn.  Nobody knew when
Bobby would be home, but it didn't matter.  He wasn't invited to this part
of things.  Mirriam was told that they were coming up with a plan, and to
occupy him with chores or anything else she could think of so that he
didn't barge in on them.  Mirriam said she'd cook extra food, but that the
table wouldn't hold both the boarders and all of them.  They told her
they'd come get it and eat in the barn.

   Bobby got home around nine.  Once again he was trying to avoid the
twins. He'd been done with his work at five and then driven to the lake,
where he threw rocks into the water for an hour.  Then he went to the wagon
wheel and had supper.  He was glad Jill wasn't there.  Sal was his old
self, and Bobby felt cheered up when he left.

   It was for that reason that he decided to go see Erica.  She was
delighted to see him, but not for the reason he went there.

   "Come in!" she squealed, pulling him into the house.  "I have news!"

   He knew about Terry, of course, having seen him at the park on the
fourth.  They had been reserved there, though, and it had seemed to Bobby
like things were just in the exploratory stages.  Erica hadn't talked about
Terry when she was together with Bobby, before this.

   What she told him now revealed that things were much farther along than
he'd thought.  She had applied for a job in Hutchinson, and been offered a
contract.  She'd start there in two weeks.  She was looking for an
apartment, though Terry had offered to let her stay with him.  She wasn't
comfortable with that.  She felt more strongly about him than she had any
other man, in ways she wasn't used to feeling strongly about a man, but she
wasn't going to hurry things.  If she couldn't find a place she could
afford, she'd just commute until she did.

   She'd obviously given this a lot of thought, and Bobby's initial
almost-desire to seek solace in her arms melted away.  She was obviously
excited about this new relationship.

   "I owe it all to you, Bobby," she said, pulling him into a hug.  "If it
hadn't been for you, I'd probably never have given him a chance."

   "Yes you would," said Bobby.  "You gave me one."

   "That was different," she said.  "You let me find out who I am inside.
You let me feel free to BE myself." She saw something in Bobby's face, and
pulled back.

   It suddenly occurred to her that he had just shown up, like he had in
the past, and she remembered what they usually did in the past.

   "Terry likes Owen, Bobby," she said, more subdued now.  "I know he's
yours, but ..."

   Bobby held up a hand.  "He's your son," he said.  The pain hit his gut
then.  "I want you to be happy.  He needs a father."

   Erica frowned.  "I can raise him by myself, Bobby.  A father would be a
plus, but I don't have to have a man to raise him."

   "I know," he said.  His tried to make his grimace into a smile.  "But
two parents are always better than one.  Believe me, I know what I'm
talking about.  I had a father for a while, and it was better.  I love my
Mamma, and she raised us well, but I still miss Joe sometimes.  That's all
I'm saying."

   "You're right," she said.  "Two parents ARE better than one.  I've never
thought about getting married.  And he hasn't talked about that either. 
His first marriage didn't work and I think he's as scared about thinking
about it as I am.  And if it works out that way, I still want Owen to know
you.  You'll always be part of us, Bobby." She tried to smile.  "And if it
doesn't work out, and my house doesn't get sold, I can always come back
here.  I know now how hard it is to get teachers to come here.  They may
not like me, but they'll take me back.  And I'll be here, and Owen will be
here and you'll be here."

   "That would be nice," said Bobby.  "But I hope it works out for you in
Hutch.  That would be better."

   "You're sure?"

   He started to say: "What choice do I have?" It was what he wanted to
say. He wanted to lash out.  But he didn't.  He swallowed that.  It only
made the pain in his stomach worse, but he couldn't hurt her.

   "I'm sure," he said softly.

   "I want to make love with you," she said, tentatively, "but I don't want
to at the same time."

   He hadn't really felt like it when he got there, and he felt even less
inclined now.

   "You’re moving on.  I hope it works out," he said.

   She hugged him then.

   "Remember," she whispered, "you'll always be part of Owen and me."

   "I'll remember."

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

   He had half expected it, which made it a little less destructive,
perhaps.  It was just one more brick on the load he felt like he was
carrying.  As he drove home, he thought to himself that Renee would
probably be the next of his women to find happiness.  She was pretty,
successful, and a good catch.  On the other hand, she was pretty sour on
the idea of marriage too.

   Now he had to go back home.  He knew that if he got there too soon, the
twins would still be up.  If he was alone with them in the barn, they'd
want to do something with him.  Sex was the last thing he wanted to get
involved with, right now.  It was better if he was alone, and that he left
them alone until they went to bed.

   He drove around some more.

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

   The twins were in their bedroom, but they weren't asleep.  They also
weren't alone.  All of Bobby's sisters were there with them.  Linda was on
watch when she saw the lights of Bobby's car turn in.  She gave the warning
and Flo flipped the lights off.

   "Everybody ready?" asked Mary.  No answer was necessary.

   The plan that Bobby's sisters came up with might seem bizarre to most
people.  A psychologist would have laughed outright at it.  Of course that
would have required that the psychologist know what Bobby's current mood
was, and the things that were plaguing him.

   Imagine getting seven women together and watching them come up with a
plan to get their brother and an eighth woman (who was NOT present) to
recognize that they love each other.  Now throw in the fact that the seven
women are fully aware that the eighth woman's primary unhappiness has to do
with the man's sexual habits.

   And, of course, you also have to understand that the seven women were
deeply involved IN that man's sexual habits.

   You might expect something that would have been appropriate for the
Keystone Cops to put on film.  All seven sisters were unique, in their own
ways, with different personalities, and different ways of thinking.  Their
current social situations were vastly different too.  Some were married,
and some not.  Some were employed, and others didn't work outside the home.
Their ages were different.  But they all had one thing in common.

   They all loved being in bed with Bobby.

   So it wasn't so odd that they thought that the central part of their
plan was to get Bobby and Constance in bed together.

   Bev and Suzie knew that hadn't happened yet.  Their long talk with her
had established that.  But it had also established that she was quite sure
Bobby would never be able to change his stripes, and settle down with one
woman, his protestations to the contrary not withstanding.

   His sisters were aware of his propensity to spread his seed far and
wide. Most of them, in fact, had provided fertile soil for that seed to
take root in.  Only Florence and Suzie had not had his child.  All of them
knew what it was like to be in bed with him, and to WANT to be in bed with
him, even if most of them resisted that urge, these days.  The ones who
resisted him knew how hard that was, which turned out to be the core of
their plan.  If they could get Bobby and Constance in bed together, they
were sure Constance wouldn't be able to resist him in the future.  Now all
they had to do was think of a way to get Bobby to restrict his activities
in bed to one woman.

   The twins contributed to the conversation by describing how Bobby's sex
drive had all but disappeared.

   So the plan they came up with was designed to deal with that problem,
and then get him to go ask Connie to marry him.  They'd tumble into bed,
ecstasy would flow, and the problem would be solved.

   It was a hastily made plan.  It was a goofy plan.  And the way they
finally decided to get Bobby to stick to one woman was even stranger. 
Oddest of all, though, was the fact that it was a plan that was based on
the premise that they understood the social culture of being male.

   It might have been described as trying to beat a man into submission
with a strap made from an Angora sweater.  They were sure it would work,
and they were excited to get started.

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

   Bobby had driven around after leaving Erica's, until he felt better, and
had killed enough time that hopefully, the twins would already be in bed.
He groaned when he saw the light in their bedroom was on.  Then, as he
turned in the driveway, he saw the light go off.  He sat in the car for ten
more minutes, to give them time to fall asleep, and then got out of his
car, easing the door closed until the latch caught with a click.  It was
Friday night.  He couldn't remember if they worked at Renee's on Saturday
morning or not.  Their schedule changed, according to Renee's need for
them. He'd have to get up and leave early, just in case.  If they didn't
have to work they'd come to his room.

   He crept as silently as he could, into the apartment in the barn. 
Leaving the lights off, he went by memory to his door.  Once in his room,
he turned on the light, and got undressed for bed.  He felt worn out, and
couldn't tell if the aches and pains in his body were real, or just
imagined.  He had just turned off the light and settled into bed with a
sigh, when his door opened.  There was no light on, and his room was one
without windows.  He groaned.  It had to be one of the twins.  Then he
heard the soft sound of bare feet on the floor ...  too many bare feet. 
His brain had just registered that the sound of breath entering and leaving
lungs sounded like more than two women too when the light came on, blinding
him.

   "SURPRISE!" came a veritable chorus of female voices.  There were WAY
too many voices for it to be just the twins.

   He squinted and saw his sisters ...  all of them.

   And they were all naked.

   Chapter Thirty-two



   Bobby's mind whirled as if he were caught in a tornado as seven naked
women whipped the sheet off of him, exposing his own nude form.  They all
seemed to try to crawl in bed with him at the same time, and he was
literally covered by squirming naked bodies.  They were giggling and making
other excited noises.  He felt hands grabbing at his penis and balls, and
lips being pressed to his shoulders, chest and face.

   His legs drew up as he tried to affect a fetal position, partly as a
natural response to being attacked ...  sort of ...  and partly in an
attempt to lessen the overwhelming sensations he was being bombarded with.

   "WHAT THE FUCK?" he yelled.

   "We love you!" squealed Mary, who pressed her breasts into his face. 
After suckling two babies, her breasts drooped a little bit, and she
dragged them over his mouth and nose.

   "Let GO of me!" His shout was somewhat muffled by Mary's breasts.  She
appeared to be trying to get a nipple into his mouth.

   "NO!" shouted several woman.

   He felt something hot and wet suck his flaccid penis into it and yelped.
He had to turn his head to keep from being suffocated by a warm breast.

   Bobby was a strong man.  But even a strong man has difficulty dealing
with seven fully grown women, when they're trying to hold him down.  Flo
sat on one leg, and Linda the other.  Mary lay her body across his right
arm, with her breasts almost smothering him and Bev, who was pregnant
again, and about four months along, put all her weight on his left arm. 
The twins tried to help control his arms too.  Within a few seconds he was
being restrained, and couldn't do much about it without hurting someone. 
He wasn't willing to do that, so he relaxed.

   Mary finally pulled back.  He wasn't sucking her nipple like she'd hoped
he would and when he had turned his face away she felt disgruntled.  She
got a better grip on his upper arm, while Betty captured his wrist and
pressed it to the bed.

   "What are you DOING?" he moaned.  He lifted his head to see Suzie
holding his penis, her mouth open, about to suck him in again.

   "Suzie?" he croaked.

   She looked up and smiled widely.  "I got home today.  I missed you a
lot." She kept her eyes on his as she sucked his penis into her mouth and
went "Mmmmmm."

   "You guys are crazy!" he groaned.

   "No we're not," said Florence, watching Suzie with interest.  "You are."


   "What are you talking about?" he panted.

   "This is your bachelor party," said Flo, brightly.

   "What?" His face twisted with the confusion he felt.  "I'm not getting
married."

   "That's what you think," said Linda.  "That's why you're crazy."

   "Would somebody please tell me what's going on?" he moaned.  His head
flopped down onto the pillow.  Suzie was getting a reaction from him, and
he didn't want to react.

   "You're going to marry Connie!" Almost everyone in the room stared from
one twin to the other.  They had said it in perfect harmony.  None of them
would ever get used to that.  It was eerie.

   Bobby was more used to it than the rest, and less affected.  He was
trying not to think about what Suzie was doing.

   "No I'm not," he said.

   Everything stopped.  Suzie pulled off his prick and stood up.

   "Oh yes you are," she said, her voice husky.

   Bobby lifted his head again.  "You people are nuts!  Connie wouldn't
marry me even if I asked her.  She even TOLD ME THAT!" His voice rose at
the end as he shouted.

   "She didn't mean it," said Bev.  "She was mad when she said it."

   "How do you know?" he moaned.

   "Because I asked her, Bobby." She glared at him.  "Unlike you, I might
add."

   Bobby's mind went back to that night, when she had slammed the door
after screaming she wouldn't marry him if he was the last man on Earth.

   "She hates me," he groaned.

   Bev snorted.  "She loves you, you dope.  And you love her too.  All you
did was have a fight.  I have them with Bill all the time.  That doesn't
mean I don't love him."

   She got the equivalent of an "Amen!" from both Mary and Flo.

   "She won't marry me," whined Bobby.

   "Have you asked her to?" That was Mary, and she was leaning over him
again, dangling a nipple in his face.

   "No."

   "Then you don't know, now do you?"

   It was quiet in the room.  The girls had said a lot of what they had
wanted to say, but he wasn't reacting the way they had expected.

   "You want to marry her ...  don't you?" Mary's voice was one part fear
that he'd say he didn't, and two parts dangerous warning about how pissed
she'd be if he did say that.

   He didn't answer.

   "Let me go," he said.

   Mary pulled her breast away from his face again.  "You WANT to marry
Connie ...  DON'T YOU?" Her voice was tinged with panic now.

   Bobby's mind had been muddled for a long time now, because of his
unhappiness with the way his life had been going recently.  He had felt
helpless and confused.  But the tone of Mary's voice cut through all that.
He was suddenly aware that it was very important to Mary that he want to
marry Constance.  He looked at the others.  They all looked tense.  Linda
looked worried.  Bev and Flo were frowning.  Suzie and the twins looked
unsure, almost wary, like they some great truth they had taken for granted
was about to be debunked.  But what they wanted was something only Connie
could control, and she'd already made up her mind.

   "She won't marry me," he said quietly.

   "Bobby Jordan!" rasped Mary.  "YOU ANSWER MY QUESTION, DAMMIT!"

   "Cursing," he sighed.  "A grown woman, cursing.  What is the world
coming to?" He was trying to lighten the mood ...  inject some humor into
the situation.  It had worked for him before.

   What happened then was almost scary, from Bobby's viewpoint.  He had
almost come to grips with the whole bizarre situation.  He still didn't
understand why they were naked, but he knew why they were there.  They were
lobbying for Constance.  It was sweet, but they hadn't heard her tone of
voice ...  hadn't heard that door slam ...  hadn't waited for her to say
something, or do something.  He had made the same mistake that most men
make, at one time or another in their lives.  He thought he knew what was
in a woman's mind, if not her heart.

   But what happened when he tried to joke didn't fit with the
circumstances.  Mary got up first, and just stood, looking down at him. 
She had a look that was startlingly like pity on her face.  Bev stood up on
the opposite side of the bed.  As the two of them moved, Linda and Flo
crawled off his legs.  Suzie and the twins, their eyes round now, watched
their older sisters, and then released him too.

   All seven started for the door.

   Bobby's thought processes, at that particular moment, were really quite
simple.  He'd lost Connie.  Now he was suddenly convinced he was losing his
sisters too ...  all of them, and all at once.

   "Yes!" he croaked.

   The crowd of bare backs and round bouncy bottoms stopped, en-mass, and
they all turned.  He was almost astonished at the change in their faces. 
He felt a stab of defensive anger, followed by an overwhelming sense of
relief that they hadn't kept going.  It wasn't because they were naked that
he wanted them to stay.  At that point, sex was the last thing on his mind.
But he didn't want them to leave.  He didn't want to be alone.  He was so
tired of being alone.

   "You're not just saying that, because you know that's what we want to
hear, are you?" asked Mary.

   Frustration hit him like hammer blow.

   "I love her!" His voice was intense.  "I finally realized it, but I was
too late.  I hurt her too much and she doesn't want me any more.  I know I
was stupid, but I can't do anything about that now.  I want to marry her,
but she won't say yes!  Can you see why I don't want to think about it?  It
hurts too much!"

   He felt tears forming in his eyes and blinked them furiously.  He didn't
want to cry in front of them.

   "Please don't hate me," he pleaded.  "I couldn't take it if you wouldn't
talk to me either.  You're all I have left."

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

   It would be nice to say they all melted and ran back and hugged him and
okissed him and all that.  But they really WERE seven different women, who
thought about him in mostly different ways.

   Some of them thought he was an idiot for thinking that his sisters would
abandon him.  They were unhappy with him, but for him to think they'd shun
him was just stupid.  Two of them went "Awww" in their minds, and WOULD
have run back to him, except that the others weren't moving.  Bev and
Suzie, who had talked to Constance, tended to want to throw up their hands
in frustration, because BOTH Connie AND Bobby were making this MUCH more
difficult than it needed to be.

   It was Mary, the eldest, who moved things forward.  She'd had the
terrible feeling that he didn't want to marry Constance, and that had made
her feel empty inside.  But now that he'd finally answered her question,
even if it wasn't quite the way she'd hoped he would, she moved first.  She
only took a step, to get in front of the others.

   "You're wrong, Bobby," she said.  She turned to Bev.  "Tell him, Bev."

   Beverly felt impatient, and took a breath.

   "Suzie and I talked to her today.  She loves you, Bobby.  She's dying
because you haven't come back since you had that stupid fight.  She thinks
YOU don't love HER!”

   "But I do," he moaned.

   "Did you TELL her that?" snapped Florence.

   Mary put her hand out and gripped Flo's arm.  "Lets not yell any more,"
she said.  "This isn't going like we thought it would, and I think maybe
the yelling isn't helping.

   "But he's being so STUPID!" groaned Florence.  "We came here to fix
everything and give him a big sendoff, and he's being so dense that he's
going to blow it again!"

   Mary went and sat down on the edge of the bed, turning sideways so she
could look at Bobby.

   "Do you love her?" she asked.

   "Yes, I said that already." He looked frustrated.

   "She loves you too."

   "I want to believe that, but it's hard.  You didn't hear her say those
things."

   Mary thought.  "Have I ever yelled at you?"

   "Sure, lots of times."

   "And did I still love you then?"

   Bobby waved a hand.  "I don't know.  That was a long time ago."

   "I did love you, you dope," she said.  "You know that."

   He suddenly noticed her nudity.  His eyes went to all the others.  He'd
known they were naked, but he hadn't paid any attention to that, because of
the furor.

   "You're naked," he said.

   "He is SUCH an idiot!" muttered Florence.

   "Connie loves you, but she doesn't want to compete with other women for
your affection.  We came here to have a bachelor party for you, with naked
women and a last fling, and all that kind of thing.  You can get it out of
your system and then go beg her to take you back."

   "You're kidding." Bobby's eyes were startled.  "You were all going to
have sex with me?  I can't possibly have sex with all seven of you.  Not in
one night."

   "Well ...  it wasn't exactly to have sex with you," said Mary.  "Not all
of us.  I mean most of us are married, and we can't do that any more.  We
kind of wanted to get you all excited ...  kind of like the good old days,
you know?  We were going to play around a little bit and explain about how
Connie loves you and get you to go see her.  And anyway, it's really
Suzie's turn.  You've been with the rest of us lots of times, and after you
ask Connie to marry you, all of that is over.  We won't hurt Connie's
feelings, Bobby.  We all love her too."

   Bobby felt a hysterical giggle burst into existence inside him.  He
actually covered his mouth with both hands to keep it in.  It was hard
because it was the first good thing he'd felt inside in what seemed like a
long time.

   It came out his nostrils, instead of his mouth.

   "Ewwwww" chorused at least five women.

   Flo walked over to his nightstand and got a tissue out of the box.  She
handed it to him.  "You are SUCH a dork, Bobby!"

   He used that one and Mary asked for one too.  She started delicately
dabbing at spots all over the side of her that was facing her brother.

   "I'm sorry," he said, automatically.

   His mind was only partially on the fact that he'd blown his nose, for
all intents and purposes.  Hope had sprung up at the same time that
hysterical giggle had popped into existence.  His sisters hadn't left, and
the message they were trying, however oddly, to give him was one he wanted
desperately to believe.  He wasn't sure they were right ...  didn't know
they were right ...  but he wanted them to be right with everything that
was in him.  And his sisters, to forward their plan, had done something so
ridiculous that it fairly screamed their love for him and Connie, even if
it was screaming in a language nobody outside his family would understand,
or appreciate.

   But he understood it, and he appreciated it.

   He got up, got another tissue and finished cleaning his face and hand
off.  The euphoria of hope was building inside him.  He felt strong.  The
same psychologist who might have diagnosed him with clinical depression
earlier might now have characterized him as having a manic episode at that
moment.  For sure he wasn't thinking too clearly.

   "I love you guys," he said.  "Who wants to kiss me?"

   The same five women repeated their "EWWWWWW."

   "Come on," he said.  "I'm trying to work with you here."

   Betty darted for the door and left, leaving it open.  She was back
within twenty seconds with a damp washcloth.  She handed it to Bobby
gingerly.  He wiped his face.

   "I can't believe you guys did this for me," he said.  "Do you really
think she'll listen to me?" He looked around.  His pants were on the floor.
He picked them up and hopped on one foot, trying to get his other foot into
one of the legs.

   "What are you doing?" asked Mary.  She was still sitting on the edge of
the bed.

   "I'm going to go ask her to marry me!" said Bobby.

   "You can't do that!" moaned Mary.  "It's after midnight!"

   "But that's what I'm supposed to do!  You said so!"

   "Tomorrow!" moaned Mary.

   "Idiot!" Florence said it under her breath, but not very softly.

   "Yes!" said Bobby.  He kicked the pants off his foot.  Then, in a rush,
he went to Florence and picked her up in his arms.  "I AM an idiot.  I've
BEEN an idiot.  But I'm not going to be an idiot any more!"

   "Let go of me!" squealed Florence.  "I'm married!"

   "You're NAKED!" growled.  His mouth captured a nipple and he sucked
while she squealed.

   He was pulled off by six other women, all of whom stared at the erection
that had spontaneously appeared, while he was hugging Florence.  Their
plan, insofar as reviving his spirits, had worked, though not quite in the
way they had expected.  On the other hand, the idea HAD been to get him
excited ...  and he obviously was.

   The problem now was that they had awakened more in Bobby than mere
sexual excitement.

   Bobby had loved all these women, both emotionally and physically.  He
had, recently, been lower than the proverbial whale shit, and his explosive
rise from those depths took him almost higher and faster than he had the
capacity to control, at least initially.  There were seven naked women in
the room, and six of them were in physical contact with him.

   He started by planning to kiss them all.  That was really all he
intended to do ...  just kiss them as a way of thanking them for carrying
out this goofy plan of theirs.  Mary was right there, so he kissed her
first.  He was very effusive in his thanks, and he crushed her against him,
flattening her breasts to his chest.  That stiff prick of his slid between
her legs and the top scraped along pussy lips that still remembered being
split by that hard flesh.

   Again, six pairs of hands tried to pry them apart.

   Now, though, he didn't perceive their touch on him as an attack, nor was
it unwelcome.  When he let Mary go, and then pulled Bev against him, to
press his lips to hers too, the women recognized that he was just kissing
them, and stopped trying to drag him away.  They thought he was under
control.

   He was in control, at least to some degree, but Bobby hadn't had sex in
a month either, while he explored the depths of self-pity.  And he HAD had
sex with all of these women.  Now, as he kissed one after another, his
libido simmered, then boiled, and finally exploded.  Mary had said it was
Suzie's turn.  He turned to pull her into his arms last.

   Chapter Thirty-three



   Their somewhat hastily planned "stag party" had been intended to get
Bobby excited, and to convince him that he and Connie loved each other. 
They did plan on having a little fun with him, as a last fling for both him
and them, but no one anticipated how MUCH fun Bobby would want to have. 
Based on their past relationships with him, that was the goofiest part of
their plan.

   There had been some less than detailed talk about oral sex, and letting
him suck nipples, and things like that.  They agreed to take turns
masturbating him.  It was anticipated that Suzie would get to feel him
inside her one last time.  The twins weren't really happy about that,
because they were used to having him pretty much whenever they wanted him,
at least until recently.  But they went along with what their older sisters
demanded.

   The "plan" hadn't gone at all like any of them anticipated.  So, when
Bobby picked up Suzie while he kissed her, and took her to the bed, it at
least looked like something they had discussed, and they let their guard
down.  By that, I mean they relaxed ...  were less vigilant ...  both
toward Bobby's actions.

   They were also less vigilant toward their own feelings.

   Bobby wasn't the only person in the room who remembered sex with them
fondly.  He had been a major bright spot in each woman's life.

   Suddenly, while Suzie wailed at being filled and loved physically, the
emotional level in the room heightened sevenfold.  When she vociferously
announced her orgasm, six pairs of hands began stroking Bobby's back and
legs.  Bobby turned his head to see Matilda standing there.  Suzie had had
an orgasm.  When he moved, the crowd of bodies flowed away from him as he
got off the bed.  Matilda wasn't at all averse to being laid on the bed
beside her sister and by the time the rest of them realized what was
happening, he was on top of her, penetrating her too.  This wasn't in the
plan, but Betty simply ran to the other side of the bed and crowded onto it
on the other side of Suzie.

   Matilda wailed through her orgasm, and Bobby moved back to Suzie, to
give her another one.

   "My turn!" moaned Betty.

   Bobby's face swiveled towards hers, and his blue eyes stared at her.

   "Be patient," he ordered.

   Suzie was only too glad to welcome him back, even though she was in bed
with the twins, which seemed weird to her.  She forgot all about that as he
filled her again.  She couldn't spread her legs, but it didn't matter,
because he knew how to wiggle that thick thing into her even with her legs
closed.  He felt even bigger that way, and her clit was in even better
contact with his prick.  Five minutes later she was gasping as he moved
over to Betty.

   By this time the four older sisters were panting too.  All of them were
masturbating, reliving in their minds what it felt like when Bobby did this
to them.

   "Ooooo I wish I could do that," moaned Linda.

   "We can't!" whined Bev.

   "Maybe just a little," panted Mary.

   "Nooooo," groaned Flo.

   Betty screamed out an orgasm that left the four eldest sisters so wild
that they all thought about diving onto that bed.

   But he moved back to Suzie, who spread her legs, laying one on top of
each twin.

   "Did you go on the pill?" grunted Bobby.

   "No!" she gasped.

   "Good!" he groaned, pushing hard and going stiff.  He grunted in time
with the spurts of potent semen that gushed from his prick into
Suzie’s womb.

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

   It was Florence that kept the married women from letting Bobby fuck
them. When he pulled out of Suzie, leaving her gaping pussy overflowing
with rich white sperm, he was still hard, and he was still horny.  He
looked with hot eyes at his older sisters.  Perhaps they had inherited the
weakness for Bobby from their mother.  It is quite likely that, had
Florence not stepped in, Mary, Bev and Linda would have let him take them
too.

   But Flo pulled Matilda off the bed, and then pushed at Suzie, making her
scoot over, which made Betty fall out of bed with a squawk.  Then she put
Bobby on his back, and attacked his manhood with her mouth.

   The twins, possibly caught up in the excitement of the moment, got up on
either side of the bed and started expressing milk, squeezing their
areolas. They competed to see who could get a nipple in his mouth.  Within
minutes his face, neck and chest were covered with milk.

   He didn't have much to give Florence, but the over stimulation made him
orgasm again.  The pain of being unable to produce semen to sooth the tube
in his penis finally pulled him down enough that he could think again.

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

   It was much more sedate then, or at least after each of the four eldest
sisters had their own orgasms, brought about by their own fingers, while
Bobby lay panting and recovering.  The twins crawled up and sandwiched him,
as was their habit.  Suzie sat on the floor, somewhat dazed from his
passionate lovemaking.  Her pussy was still dripping spunk.  He hadn't
acted anything like that in Manhattan, and she was astonished as how
violent it had been.

   There was an awkward silence in the room too.  The explosion of passion
had taken them all by surprise.  Again, it was Florence who moved things
on.

   "Well THAT was interesting," she sighed.

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

   Bobby started the conversation again by asking questions about
Constance, and how his sisters knew what they were telling him.  Bev and
Suzie told him a lot of what had transpired in Connie's room.  She had
cried, explaining that, while she understood Bobby's relationships with his
family members, she felt like a family member too, but had always been left
out.  It only got worse when, after Tim died, it was Bobby who knew how to
get through to her.

   Because of Tim, she felt guilty about loving Bobby.  She was jealous of
the women Bobby spent his time with.  Bev and Suzie had tried to apologize,
but they weren't the women Connie was talking about.  It was the other
women ...  Janet ...  Misty ...  Renee ...  Erica.



   But what complicated things for Constance wasn't just that he had sex
with all those other women.  It was that he cared so deeply for her.  She
knew he did, because he was always there for her ...  always took time to
check on her and be with her.  She wanted, many times, to tell him she
loved him, but he didn't display any interest in her in that way.

   Bobby broke in, feeling anguish because HE hadn't shown the interest in
her that he'd felt.

   "I thought she was still mourning for Tim," he said.  "In the beginning
all I was interested in was pulling her out of the gutter.  I was so
worried about her.  I had feelings for her, but I didn't understand them
myself.  There were times when I wanted to kiss her and touch her, but how
could I express that kind of interest to her when all she was thinking
about was her dead husband?" He sighed.  "She talked about him.  I thought
that was good for her, but every time she did it, it just made me more sure
I shouldn't interfere with her memories."

   "She said you DID tell her you loved her," said Bev.

   "I didn't even know what love was until a few weeks ago."

   Suzie spoke next.  "What was all that stuff she was saying about some
professor?"

   Bobby groaned, and told them what had happened, and how he had jumped to
the wrong conclusions and acted like an ass.

   "So THAT's what that was all about!" yipped Matilda.

   Bev took the floor again.  "I didn't understand that either.  All I knew
was that after that happened, she thought everything was going to be
perfect, and then that Agatha woman showed up pregnant and Connie knew it
was you.  It was the last straw."

   "That's when I knew she hated me," said Bobby.

   "But she DOESN'T hate you!" said Bev.  "She was just mad.  She decided
you'd never change."

   "But I didn't even KNOW I got Agatha pregnant," he moaned.  "She told me
she couldn't even HAE children.  And then, when that turned out not to be
true, she never told me until the picnic.  And that was before I found out
how Connie felt about me anyway.  How could she be mad about that?"

   "Do you remember when Tim had to leave, and they got married before
that?" Bev asked.

   "Of course."

   "They were trying to get her pregnant before he left.  That's why she
insisted on marrying him right then.  I mean they were in love, but she
couldn't wait for him to come back.  She wanted to start a family then. 
But it didn't work.  And then he died.  All she could think about was that
all around her, women were having your babies ...  but she couldn't have
any.  And everywhere she went, she saw your children.  She LIVED with two
of your children, Bobby."

   "But I didn't know," he moaned.

   "Well you do now." Bev smiled.  "Stop looking at my boobs, Bobby."

   He hadn't realized his eyes had fallen there.  He hadn't really been
concentrating on her breasts.  He looked around.  They were all still
naked.

   "You want to know something funny?" he asked.  "All the time we've been
talking ...  just now ...  I completely forgot you were all naked."

   "That's good," said Mary.  "We weren't kidding, Bobby.  Once you get
married to Connie, we're not going to hurt her by letting you do anything
with us.  You can't marry any of us, Bobby, but you CAN marry Connie."

   "I get it," he said.  "I'm sorry I got kind of carried away a little
while ago.  I love you all so much."

   "Uh oh," said Betty.  Everyone looked at her.  She was looking in
Bobby's lap.  Seven sets of eyes went to where she was looking, and saw
Bobby's penis twitch and lengthen.  "I think he noticed us again."

   "I love you," said Bobby.  "All of you.  What do you expect?"

   "I'd forgotten how quickly he can be ready again," sighed Mary.  Her
hand went to one of her nipples, unconsciously, and she squeezed it.

   "If this is my last time," said Bobby.  "I sort of left some of you
out."

   "Oh, no you don't, mister!" said Florence.  "I managed to get out of
this house without having your baby once.  Ted and I are trying for another
right now.  You just jerk off or whatever."

   "You got naked with me, Flo," said Bobby, smiling.

   "I was just supporting my sisters!" she said defensively.  "Mary and Bev
and Linda and I were just supposed to dance sexy for you or something."

   "So dance," suggested Bobby.  His hand went to his penis and all his
sisters eyes looked back at his crotch.  He was hard again.

   "Damn that looks good," sighed Linda.  "I purely loved playing with that
thing."

   "I don't have to put it in you," said Bobby.  "You should know that."

   "I do!" she said.  "But if I let you touch me, I'm going to want to let
you do that too."

   "We're here," said Matilda.  She looked a little disgruntled.

   "Yes, you are," said Bobby.  He had been sitting on the floor, leaning
against the bed.  His sisters had been standing or sitting all around him.
Matilda was one sister away from him, because Suzie was sitting right next
to him.  He rocked forward, and Matilda squealed as he crawled over and on
top of her, pushing her back with his shoulder until he could lie down on
top of her.

   "Not on the FLOOR!" she yipped.

   "Why not?" he asked, grinning.

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

   Two hours later most of his sisters decided that their plan had worked
entirely too well.  He hadn't tried to fuck any of the married ones, but he
did push his face between their legs, and suck their nipples, and give them
orgasms.  Even Florence gave in, after the other three had whined, yipped
or laughed their way through an orgasm.

   He did fuck the twins and Suzie again, in much the same way as he had
done before, except that he spent longer with each one, giving them two or
more orgasms before moving on.

   Finally he stood up and looked at Suzie.  "I want to cum," he panted ...
“in you."

   "You already came in me you poop head!" she yipped.  "You KNOW I'm not
on the pill."

   "That's why I want to cum in you," he growled.

   "Bobbeeeee," she moaned.  "I'm going to med school in one week!  I can't
afford to get pregnant.  That would be a very stupid thing for me to do!"

   "You can cum in me," panted Betty.

   "Me too," said Matilda.

   "One last time," said Bobby, his eyes still fastened on Suzie.  "I know
you love it when I do that."

   "I DO love it!" she snarled.  "But I don't want to get pregnant!" She
closed her legs.  "Save it for Connie.  SHE wants to have your baby!"

   In the end the twins flipped for it.  Betty won.

   "I wish I'd known this would happen," she sighed, as he entered her
again, and began stroking strongly.  "I'd have stopped taking the pill."

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

   A hundred and fifty feet away from the barn, in Mirriam's room, Jeff
Hamilton grunted as he lunged forward, burying his prick in Mirriam's hot,
clasping pussy.

   "I'm so glad," he panted, "that you're on the pill."

   "Why?" she moaned.

   "Because," he huffed, "I just love doing this."

   He pushed in hard and groaned as she felt him spurt, washing her insides
with his semen.  She'd already had three orgasms, and was happy.  He was a
very attentive lover, and she appreciated that.  She thought of herself as
being a very lucky woman, to have had such satisfying relationships with
men ...  at least satisfying sexually.

   As they rested, still clasping each other loosely, she sighed.

   "You never wanted children?"

   "I didn't say that at all," he said.

   "You just said you were glad I was on the pill."

   "Mirriam," he said, raising an eyebrow.  "you've had nine children.  I
kind of figured that had satisfied your desire to have babies."

   "It did," she admitted.  "Besides, I'm too old to have more."

   "I don't think of you as old," he said, squeezing her gently. 
"Especially when we're doing this."

   "I don't know why I even said that," she sighed.

   "I'd love to have a baby with you," said Jeff.  "But that would upset
lots of things.  You have a wonderful business here, and all your family is
here.  I wouldn't want to ask you to give all that up."

   "Why would I have to give it all up?" she asked, pulling back from him.

   "I'm already besotted with you, Mirriam," he said.  "And if you were
pregnant with my baby I wouldn't rest until you married me." He grinned. 
"That's just the kind of man I am, I guess.  I'd badger you until you hated
me, and that would ruin everything."

   "I think I'd have a hard time hating you for much of anything," she
said. "You don't want to marry me.  We hardly know each other."

   "I know what I feel," he said.  "And if you got pregnant, it would only
intensify what I feel.  It's already changed me," he said seriously.  "I
never even thought about getting married again.  I was done with that.  I
have my job, and my research, and I love that.  I thought that was all I
needed.  Then I met you and you messed with my mind."

   "I didn't mean to," she moaned.

   "Well you did.  You're part of my life now, whether you want to be or
not.  I'm already thinking about how the research we're doing can be
expanded.  I might have done that anyway, but the reason it happened is
that I won't be able to stay away from this place, and that's because of
you."

   She frowned.  He couldn't know that that frown was a natural progression
of her thoughts about how this was all supposed to be temporary, just a
summer fling, like Prudence had suggested, and that she already didn't want
it to end either.

   "I won't hound you or anything," he said.  "I just know I'll want to see
you again."

   "For this?" she asked.

   "I won't lie," he said.  "I love doing this with you.  It's like a
little voice is telling me what to do next, to get that next delightful
sound from you.  You make me feel like a man, Mirriam.  But this isn't all
I want.  I want to just be around you sometimes.  It doesn't have to always
be this."

   She just looked at him for half a minute.

   "You're right," she said.  "I could never leave here.  My roots are here
and, as you said, my family ...  my grandchildren."

   "I knew that," he said.  He grinned.  "You want to know something funny?
Before I met you, it would have never occurred to me that I might want to
make love with a grandma.  I don't feel any older because that's changed."

   "You're as old as I am," she said.

   "I know.  It's just one of those social perceptions that I think makes
our lives less fulfilling.  I'm really glad I came here.  I'm really glad I
met you.  You've expanded my world, Mirriam."

   He rolled to his hands and knees.  Mirriam looked to see his penis,
rigid again, hanging down.  She parted her legs automatically.

   "I'm just glad that you're on the pill so I don't expand your world ..."
He slid into her with a sigh that was matched by her own.  "by expanding
that beautiful flat stomach of yours," he panted, beginning to stroke.

   His thrusts got more urgent.  He hoped what he was planning to say would
please her, rather than kill the mood.  He waited until her pussy clamped
down on his prick, and she was moaning her pleasure.

   "Because if that happened, I might be very tempted to become a farmer
again."

   Chapter Thirty-four



   Saturday Bobby woke to the feel of a warm woman in his arms.  He
couldn't have explained how he knew, but even before he opened his eyes he
knew it was Suzie.  He felt another body pressed against his back, and knew
it was one of the twins, but not which one.

   When he did open his eyes, he realized that it was the smell of bacon
and eggs that had awakened him.  He lifted his head.  Only Suzie and Betty
were still in the room with him.  His assumption that the others had gone
home was incorrect.  They had simply spread out in the apartment, finding
places to sleep.  The married sisters were more used to rising early, and
had gotten up to make breakfast in the kitchen of the barn.

   He got up carefully enough that while both women muttered and moved,
neither woke completely.  He covered them with the bedspread and put on a T
shirt and some running shorts.  Barefoot he padded out into the common
area.

   "He's alive," said Florence.

   "Thanks to you guys," said Bobby.

   "Don't be silly," said Flo.

   "I'm not," he said.  "Thank you.  I really mean that."

   "You always were hot to trot with us," said Bev.

   "That's not what I'm talking about.  I meant for fixing things between
Connie and me."

   Mary turned from the stove.  "Things aren't fixed yet.  You need to go
see her."

   He turned and went back into his room.  Within two minutes he was back,
fully dressed, with his car keys in his hand.

   "I meant after breakfast," said Mary, smiling.

   "Not hungry," said Bobby.  His stomach growled loudly enough for all
four women to hear.

   Matilda came out of the nursery.  She was holding Veronica to her
breast, and the little girl was sucking happily.

   "Aren't you a little confused?" asked Linda, staring at her younger
sister.

   "We feed each other's babies all the time," she said, yawning.  "Joey
got finished, and Betty's still sleeping." She looked at Bobby.  "Isn't
she?"

   He nodded.

   "I don't know what we're going to do now that Bobby can't help empty
us," said Matilda.

   Florence's mouth dropped open.  "He does THAT?"

   "Sure," said Matilda, not embarrassed at all.  "Feels wonderful too."

   "I have to go," said Bobby.

   "Eat something first," said Mary.

   "I'll eat at Prudence's," he said.

   "At least call them and let them know you're coming," said Bev.

   "Thanks again," said Bobby.  "I really love you guys."

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

   The fact was that Bobby was still afraid that, if he called ahead,
Constance would tell him not to come.  Now that hope had re-entered his
life, he felt like he had to resolve things now ...  today ...  before
something else happened to ruin things again.  He knew that even if
Constance told him not to come, he'd go anyway.  By not calling, he avoided
that possibility.

   He didn't knock.  He didn't try to go in quietly, but he didn't storm in
either.  He went to the kitchen, where Prudence looked up at him from the
table, where the paper was spread out, and a cup of coffee was steaming. 
Her eyebrows rose, framing her unasked question as to why he was there.

   "I need to see Connie," he said.

   "She's not up yet," said Prudence.  "Is everything all right?"

   "I hope so," he said.

   "I'll go get her." Prudence rose.

   "It's all right," he said.  "I'd like to wake her up myself ...  if
that's OK."

   Prudence sat back down.  She looked nervous.  He didn't wait, to
explain. That could be done later.

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

   Constance was dreaming.  It was one of those crazy wild dreams, where
you know you're dreaming, and that it must mean something, but still
doesn't make any sense.  There were trucks everywhere, of all sizes and
shapes.  Some of them were moving, and others just sat, as if parked willy
nilly.  All of them were forest green, including the glass and what would
normally be chrome parts.  Even the tires were green.  And if that wasn't
odd enough, they all had mouths, where the front bumper should be, and they
were babbling at her.  She heard "Connie!" quite clearly, though coming
from multiple mouths.  The rest of it she couldn't understand.  In her
dream she concentrated and slowly, the worlds began to become
understandable.

   "Connie!  Will you marry me?"

   "What?" She looked at all the trucks, which were still moving, or
sitting still.  Their headlights turned into eyes that stared at her,
moving as the trucks moved.

   "Will you marry me?" they insisted.

   In her dream she cleaned her ears with imaginary fingers on hands
attached to arms she couldn’t see, but knew were there.

   "Connie, will you marry me?"

   The trucks faded, and she knew she was waking up.  She didn't want to
wake up.  This was bizarre and it had to mean something.  She wanted to
know what that was, but they faded anyway.  With frustration she shouted:
"WAIT!" but it was too late.

   "Ohhhh," she moaned, feeling the real world begin to seep into her
consciousness as she woke up.

   She felt a hand on her arm, and opened her eyes.  Bobby's face was right
in front of hers, and she blinked.

   "Please?" There was obvious pleading in his voice.

   "What?" she asked.  Her mind was muddled.  She was glad to see him, but
something was trying to tell her she shouldn't be.

   "Please marry me," he said.

   As if cold water had been thrown on her, her mind cleared.  She was
almost overwhelmed by the sensations that flooded her conscious mind ... 
the heat of his fingers, where they touched her arm ...  the sounds of
birds outside ...  the brightness of the sunlight flooding through her
windows.  She was even aware of the tilt of the bed, and her brain assessed
that Bobby was sitting on the edge, making it tilt like that.

   "What are you doing?" she asked.  Her mind was crystal clear, but her
mouth was still dry and fuzzy from sleep.

   "What I should have done years ago," he said.  "I just didn't know it
back then."

   The thing that had been so insistent, poking at her, telling her to say
"No!" ever since the trucks had begun to fade as her dream was abandoned,
became clear in her mind.

   "I can't marry you," she said.  "You're a gigolo."

   "I'm NOT a gigolo," he said.  His voice was intense.  "I was NEVER a
gigolo.  It wasn't about the money, Connie.  And besides ...  that's all
changed now." He leaned even closer.  She could smell the toothpaste on his
breath.

   "What time is it?" she asked.

   "I don't know," he said.  There was some impatience in his voice.  "It's
morning."

   She moved to get up, aware that her own breath must be awful.  She had
learned that with Tim.  It seemed so long ago.  She realized she was naked,
and stopped.

   "Turn around," she said.

   "Why?"

   "I'm naked."

   "You're covered up."

   "I have to go to the bathroom," she said.

   "Oh."

   "Hand me my robe," she said.

   He looked around.  There was a thin robe draped across the back of the
chair at her dressing table.  He picked it up and handed it to her.  Then
he turned his back.  He felt a sinking sensation in his stomach.  He had
hoped to get her to say "Yes" as she woke up.  If she really felt like his
sisters had said she did, he wanted to tap that emotion before she had a
chance to think.  They could always negotiate later, but he wanted that
"Yes" under his belt first.  It was all he could think of to do.

   He heard her get up, and the impulse to turn and beg her again was so
strong that he closed his eyes.

   "You're coming back when you're done ...  aren't you?"

   Connie heard the yearning in his voice.  It made something deep inside
her feel warm.

   "I'll come back," she said.

   She actually saw his tense muscles relax, and that warm spot expanded.
His non-verbal communication, even though it was unconcious, spoke much
louder than words.

   She brushed her teeth while she sat on the toilet, and wondered if he
could hear the splash of her urine as it hit the water in the bowl.  She'd
wondered that when she was with Tim too, but had never had the chance to
find out.  She looked into the mirror.  Her hair was a mess, but her brush
was out there, in her room, on her dressing table.  She raked her fingers
through her hair a few times and then gave up.  It wasn't important.  Bev
and Suzie had been here yesterday.  She'd poured her heart out to them. 
Now he was here.  She felt something expand inside her and clamped down on
the feeling.  It wasn't that easy.

   When she walked out of the bathroom he was facing her.  She saw his eyes
widen, and his face got tense.  She wasn't thinking about the fact that her
summer robe was not dense enough to hide what was under it, and that he
could see both her nipples and the darkness between her legs, where her
hair was lush.

   She didn't know what to do, but her knees felt a little weak, so she sat
down on the edge of the bed.  She couldn't help but look at him.  There was
an uncomfortable silence that seemed to stretch until she thought she'd
start crying.

   "I'm begging you," he said softly.  "I love you."

   "Sit down," she said.  She didn't want to look up at him.  "Stop
begging. Let's talk about this."

   Bobby's own knees felt weak.  She wanted to talk.  That wasn't a good
sign.  Every time they'd talked before, he'd said something stupid, or
something he shouldn't have said, and it hadn't turned out well.  But she
gave him no choice.  At least she hadn't thrown him out.  He sat on the
chair her robe had been draped over.

   "What's changed?" she asked.

   "Everything!" he moaned.  "I've been going crazy!  I can't stand it that
you're mad at me.  I've been in love with you for years, and didn't know
it. Once I finally figured it out, I realized I couldn't live without you.
But I thought I'd blown it.  I thought you hated me."

   He stopped, hoping she'd tell him he was wrong.

   "I was pretty pissed off at you," she said.

   He relaxed ...  just a little.  It wasn't quite what he'd hoped for, but
at least she was speaking about the past ...  he hoped.

   "I kept trying to figure out what love was," he said, tentatively.  "I
didn't really have any idea until I thought I'd lost you.  I knew then that
I loved you, but you didn't want to see me and I lost hope.  Then last
night, they said you loved me, and it was like the sun came out."

   "I never said I didn't want to see you," said Connie softly.  "When you
didn't come back ...  after the last time ...  I thought you had decided
you couldn't be what I need you to be."

   "I'll do anything," he said, sliding off the chair, and onto one knee.
He didn't think anything about the fact that this was the traditional pose
for a man to assume when asking for a woman's hand.  He just wanted to be
closer to her, and be able to see what was in her eyes.  "I'll be whatever
you need me to be."

   "It's not that easy, Bobby," she said, folding her hands in her lap. 
"You can't change who you are just by wishing for it."

   "Who am I?" he asked.  "I don't even know any more." He sank down, to
sit on the floor.

   "You're a man loved by many women," she said.

   "But they all have other men," he moaned.  "Except for Renee, and that
won't last long ...  not if she doesn't want it to." He slumped.  "Even
Erica.  She's going to move.  She found a new job in Hutchinson, and
there's a teacher she's interested in there."

   "You have all those children," she said.

   "Yes, but I'm not their father.  Not really.  They have other men, who
are raising them." He blinked, thinking of Misty, and Renee.  "Most of them
do, anyway, and even if they don't, those women don't want me.  Not for a
husband."

   "Do you want to be a husband to them?" asked Connie.

   "NO!" he said.

   "So they mean nothing to you?"

   He felt like he was sliding down a mountain ...  sliding away from
Constance.  The feeling of loss generated panic in his gut, but there
wasn't anything he could do about it.  He couldn't lie to her.

   "No," he sighed.  "They all meant something to me, at the time.  They
still do, I guess.  It's just not what I feel for you." He waited for her
to tell him to get out.  His muscles even bunched, readying himself to
slink away from her presence.

   "Now we're getting somewhere," she said.

   He blinked and looked up.

   "I don't understand," he said.

   "I've loved you for years," she said quietly.  "But I couldn't love the
man I thought you were ...  catting around ...  making all those babies.  I
could see how some of those women felt about you.  They loved you too, and
it tore my heart out.  But nothing ever happened.  You kept seeing them,
even after they had your babies, and I thought you were a heartless
monster. But I still loved you.  Every time you came to see me, you treated
me so tenderly.  It didn't make sense."

   "I just tried to give them what they needed," he sighed.  "I didn't
understand it myself, half the time."

   "But you loved them?"

   "No.  Yes.  In some kind of way I guess I did.  I couldn't do that with
a woman I didn't feel something for.  I finally learned that." He was
thinking about the girls in Manhattan, but those feelings were all mixed up
with Suzie too.  He didn't want to bring that back up.

   "So you're not a monster," she said.  "You're just horny all the time,
and when some woman needs a horny man, you're there for her."

   He didn't like the way that sounded, but he decided it was true.

   "Probably," he said.  "But that's part of what changed." Then he thought
about what had happened with his sisters, the night before.  "I think," he
added.

   "What do you mean?" she asked.

   "My sisters," he said, defeat in his voice.

   "That's different," she said.  "I KNOW you love them."

   "Yes, but ..." He stopped.  He didn't know how to interpret what she'd
just said.  "Last night, when they threw me that stupid bachelor party, and
I began to hope that you didn't hate me, and that we might be able to make
this work ..." He started to tell her he gave in to them, but she
interrupted him.

   "Bachelor party?" Constance sounded both surprised and curious.

   "They decided that throwing me a bachelor party would be the way to get
me to propose to you," he sighed.

   "You're kidding!" she squeaked.

   "No, I'm not," he said.  "They all came running into my room, and
attacked me." He left out the part where they were all naked.

   Constance snorted and put her hand over her mouth.

   "Please tell me you're making this up." She didn't sound angry, and that
penetrated Bobby's miasma.

   "No," he said, looking up at her.  "They convinced me you loved me."

   Connie remembered how she'd cried, with Bev and Suzie.

   "I do," she said.  "I told you that, Bobby."

   "Yes, but you were so angry when you said that ...  and then you slammed
the door.  I thought you didn't want to love me any more.  I thought I'd
lost you forever." He didn't figure this was a good time to tell her what
he'd done then.  "But then they convinced me, and I wanted to come ask you
to marry me right then, but they wouldn't let me."

   "Why not?"

   "It was one in the morning."

   "You were going to come ask me to marry you at one in the morning?" Her
hand went up to her mouth again.  He could see the smile in her eyes, and
it made the feeling of distress inside him begin to blow away, like smoke
being driven before the breeze.

   "Of course," he said.  "You don't get it, Connie.  Life wasn't worth
living, until they said you still loved me.  It was like I was cured from
some deadly disease.  I wanted to come right then.  I should have.  I
shouldn't have listened to them.  I got horny ...  like you said ...  and
they were all there, and I love them ..."

   "Do you remember when I used to hang around all the time, back when I
was seventeen?" Connie's hand came away from her face.  She wasn't smiling
any more.

   "Sure," he said.

   "I felt like I was one of your sisters."

   "Bev said something about that last night," said Bobby.

   "But your sisters got to do things with you that I couldn't do," she
said.  "I wanted to do those things desperately, Bobby.  I wanted you to
love me like you loved them."

   "I know that now," he said.  "But I didn't think you were ready for
that, back then."

   "I wasn't," she said.  "You did exactly the right thing, even though it
almost killed me.  I didn't understand it until much later."

   "That's that kind of love I was talking about," said Bobby.  "I cared
about all those women ...  and what they needed ...  and didn't need."

   "You told me that you wanted to have sex with me, back then," she said.

   "Yes, but I knew it wasn't the right thing for you," he said.

   "That IS love, Bobby," she said.  "When you care more about what someone
else needs than what you want for yourself, that's love."

   "But it's not the marrying kind of love," he said.

   "It's the kind of love a good marriage has to be based on," she
countered.  "Just because each person you feel that way about doesn't marry
you, doesn't mean it wasn't love.  I loved you.  Then I loved Tim.  I chose
Tim.  I gave him everything I thought you weren't interested in.  I'm not
sorry about that.  If he was still here, we wouldn't be having this
conversation.  But he's not, and I STILL love you ...  even more now.  What
I was seeing didn't match with what I knew you were like.  Knowing you
really loved those women helps me a great deal, Bobby."

   "But I thought you wouldn't want me to love anyone else." He looked
confused.

   "I just want you to love me more than anyone else, Bobby," she said.  "I
don't want you to stop loving your sisters, just because you love me.  I
don't want you to stop loving anyone just because you love me.  I just
don't want you making babies with every woman in sight.  If you love me, I
want you to make babies only with me."

   "I can do that!" he said, urgency in his voice.

   "Are you sure?" she asked.  "Suzie told me she wants to have your baby."


   Bobby blinked.  "No way!" he blurted.  "I came in her last night and she
almost killed me!" He slapped a hand over his mouth.

   He'd done it again.

   But Connie's face didn't cloud up.  She just looked at him.  "Tell me
the rest, Bobby."

   He'd left things out.  He'd known he shouldn't, but he'd been so hopeful
that she'd relent.  He had to get this over with.

   "Last night, when I started feeling better ...  I lost control.  I was
so happy that you still loved me.  And I loved them so much for doing what
they'd done to get through to me." He looked at her and then looked away.
"I told you they attacked me.  I didn't tell you they were naked when they
rushed in." He swallowed.  "I had sex with them."

   Constance's eyes went round.  "ALL of them?" Her voice sounded faint.

   "Some of them," he admitted.  "The married ones wouldn't let me ...  you
know ...  go all the way … but there are other ways to make a woman
happy."

   "All of them," she sighed.

   "Not really," he said.  "And anyway, they all said that was the last
time, because they won’t do anything else with me when we’re
married.  And honest ...  I wouldn't have stayed to do that, except they
wouldn't let me go, and I got horny ...  and they were naked ..."

   He hung his head.

   "Maybe I can't control it," he said, miserably.  He remembered what
she'd said and his eyes jerked up.  "Suzie said that?"

   "Yesterday, after Bev left," said Constance.  "Suzie stayed there for a
few minutes.  She said she was sorry, and that she'd gotten you to make
love to her in Manhattan, when you were up there, and that she hoped she'd
meet a man in medical school, but that if she didn't she hoped you'd get
her pregnant ...  like the rest."

   "She said that?" Bobby felt weak.

   "She told me she couldn't resist you."

   "Oh, man!" Bobby put his head in his hands.  "Why do I keep screwing
up?"

   "I know how she feels."

   Bobby looked up again.  Somehow, the robe had fallen to Constance's
waist.  Her perky breasts were bare, and her nipples were stiff.  His eyes
devoured them.

   "You don't know how long I've waited to see that look in your eyes," she
whispered.

   "What look?" He licked his lips.  This had to be some kind of test.

   "The look that you want me."

   "I dooooo," he moaned.  "But not like this.  I have to learn to control
this!"

   "Not with me," she said.  She cupped her breasts.  "Not if we're
married."

   He blinked.

   "You mean it?" he whispered.

   She just nodded.  "And you have to work on keeping it in your pants with
other women.  I expect you to work on that hard, Bobby.  Very hard."

   He jumped up.  He couldn't even remember getting his feet under him, but
he left the floor he rose so quickly.

   "Do you really mean it?" he gasped.  "You'll marry me?"

   "Yes," she said.  She pulled the rest of her robe apart, and sat, naked,
in front of him.

   Chapter Thirty-five



   Extreme joy ...  the unbounded ecstasy of realizing what you really want
in life, and then finding out it is within your reach ...  can do strange
things to a person.

   The object of Bobby's joy was there, in front of him, and to say she was
offering herself to him would be understandable, under the circumstances.
But Connie was no longer the quailing young girl, with the lack of
confidence that had made her so timid when she first met Bobby.  There was
a streak of something in her that still wanted to punish Bobby for all the
heartache she'd suffered because of him.

   She expected him to reach for her naked body.  In fact, she planned on
letting him touch her, and kiss her, and stroke her.  She HAD been waiting
for him to do those things for years.  But she also planned on stopping
him. "You can do THAT part after we're married," she planned on saying.  If
he went home with blue balls maybe that would help him behave himself.

   She was therefore astonished when, after he jumped up, he whirled and
left the room at a run, whooping at the top of his lungs.

   What Connie couldn't have known was that sex, while most definitely
interesting to Bobby Dalton, wasn't THE most interesting thing in his life.
What was THE most interesting thing in his life, at this point, was that
Constance Harris had given him a full pardon on his death sentence.  That
she had consented to become his wife made him almost incomprehensibly
happy. He'd be interested in the sex later.  There was no doubt about that
at all.

   Right now, though, what he wanted to do most was let everybody in the
whole world know how happy she had made him.  He didn't exactly turn up his
nose at her physical offering.  What she offered emotionally just took
precedence over it.

   Prudence was the first to confront the whirlwind that Bobby had become.
His war cries scared her, at first, because she thought something had gone
wrong again.  One look at his face as he burst into the kitchen disabused
her of that notion.  She had barely begun to smile when she was pulled into
his arms and thoroughly kissed.

   That part of Bobby's brain that had stared at Connie's lush, naked body,
decided that it would react, just then, and his prick sprang to life as he
kissed one of the women he'd loved ...  still loved.  That he ground his
firming penis into her loins was just habit, really.  That he noticed her
breasts pressed to his chest was simply the acknowledgement that he'd done
so before, and thoroughly enjoyed it ...  as had she.  His tongue probed
her mouth, and she automatically kissed him back.

   He suddenly thrust her away from him, holding her shoulders.

   "Shit!" he said.  "Bad!" He looked down.  He was looking at the front of
his pants, at his traitorous penis, though Prudence didn't know that.  She
looked to see what he was talking about, confused and off balance.

   "Connie said she's MARRY ME!" he yipped.

   Then she was crushed to him again, and it happened all over again.  This
time, when he pushed her back, his face was bright red.

   "Sorry!" he yipped.  "I have to control that!"

   Then he was whirling and heading away from her.

   He left the front door open in his haste to leave.

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

   Clancy was drowsing, to be honest, when the radar console on his
dashboard came to life and beeped.  He jerked, and his eyes opened, going
instantly to the readout, which flashed 72.

   His hand jumped to the button that would lock in the speed and then, by
habit established from repetition in the past, went immediately to the key,
and then to the shifter.  The tires of the cruiser spun as he took off in
pursuit.

   It took him almost a mile to catch up to the vehicle that had set off
his radar, and then he recognized the car.  He reached for the overheads
and bumped his siren twice.  The car pulled to the side, the right tires
throwing dust and gravel as the car almost went into the ditch, trying to
stop.

   Clancy got out, straightening his belt.  He left his cap in the car, as
the door of the vehicle he had pursued sprang open and the driver, who was,
in fact, Bobby Dalton, jumped out and capered in a circle.  Clancy wondered
if the boy was drunk, and began to approach him carefully.

   "SHE SAID YES!" yelled the dancing man.  He stopped, suddenly, and was
calm.  "Shit!" he said.  "I'm sorry, Clancy."

   "What in the world has you all worked up?" asked the lawman.

   "Connie Harris just said she'd marry me!" gasped Bobby.

   "You been drinking?" asked Clancy.

   Bobby blinked.  "No Sir!" he said.  "I was just kind of excited."

   "Seventy-two in a forty-five zone is a mite too excited," said Clancy.

   "Yeah." Bobby seemed to deflate.  "Write me up, Clancy.  You're right."
He suddenly grinned.  "But it's WORTH it, Clancy!  She said YES!" His right
arm shot up into the air, his hand in a fist.

   Clancy grinned.  "So you're actually going to settle down?"

   "Oh yes!" panted Bobby.  "Damn, Clancy, she almost said no, but she cut
me a break."

   "And you're running around days are all over?" Clancy folded his arms.

   "Yes SIR!" shouted Bobby.

   "Can you keep it down to forty-five the rest of the way home?"

   "Of course I can," said Bobby.  "I know the speed limit on this road."

   Clancy laughed.  "Well, if she can cut you a break, I guess I could too.
Call it a wedding present."

   "Wow!" said Bobby.  He was grinning inanely.  "You mean it?  You have to
come to the wedding, Clancy."

   "I don't know about that," said the Chief of Police.  "You've already
got people running against me in the next election."

   "Oh." Bobby deflated again.  "Sorry about that."

   "Just don't make me go tell that poor girl that you've gone off and
killed yourself driving like a maniac," said Clancy.  "You want me to take
you home?"

   "No," said Bobby, straightening his shoulders.  The thought of Connie
getting news like that again sobered him instantly.  "You're right.  I'll
take it easy."

   "Good enough," said Clancy.  "You have a good day, now, hear?"

   "It couldn't get any better, Clancy," sighed Bobby.  "Thanks."

   "When is this wedding?" asked Clancy.  "I might need to call in the
National Guard or something."

   Bobby's eyes went round.  "I don't KNOW!" He looked around, as if there
might be someone else there who could tell him.  "She just said yes five
minutes ago." He looked around again.  "I have to go BACK!" he gasped.

   "No!" ordered Clancy.  "You just mosey on home, until you calm down. 
Mosey ...  you hear me?"

   "Yes, Sir," said Bobby.  "I'll call her!" he said, perking up.

   "Good, you do that."

   "OK!" said Bobby, getting excited again.  "Can I go now?" His voice
yearned to be gone.

   "Mosey!" ordered Clancy.

   "Yes sir!" said Bobby.

   He made it four miles, at a sedate thirty-five miles per hour, and then
turned into the driveway of the farm.  He did four donuts in the yard
before the car came to a clunking stop in the midst of a cloud of dust.

   Mary, Bev and Florence had already gone back to their own homes.  Linda
was just leaving the barn, on her way to do the same thing, when he
arrived. The twins and Suzie came out to see what the uproar was about.

   Those four were the first to receive the news, and his attention.  After
that he went into the house, looking for his mother.

   It took only ten minutes for him to complete the slapstick litany of
picking up any woman he saw, including a very bewildered Candy, swinging
them all around in a circle, and kissing them soundly, before staggering
back, looking down at the front of his pants and panting "Behave!" or some
other instruction to his own body not to give in to the feelings that
hugging and kissing all those women created in him.  By the time Jennifer
came out of her room, he had calmed down.

   Candy promptly … and triumphantly … bragged that Bobby had
kissed her.  Mirriam had to separate the two girls before it turned into a
cat fight.

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

   Mirriam banished Bobby to the barn, to get complete control of himself.
By the time she got her two boarders calmed down, all her daughters had
vanished.  It didn't take a rocket scientist to know where they'd gone, so
she called Prudence to warn her they were about to be invaded.

   Then she sat down, and took some time to sort out her own feelings.

   She loved Connie.  That was a given.  And she loved Bobby.  She had her
own misgivings about whether he could actually settle down with one woman.
She hoped so, with all her heart.  It didn't matter that she'd be alone in
her bed again.  That was a given too, once Jeff went back to Manhattan, but
it wasn't important.  She had always worried that Bobby would cross the
wrong man, or get involved with the wrong woman.  It was important to help
him succeed, so that Constance could tame him.

   Taking a deep breath, she got out the phone book.  The only woman she'd
ever actually confronted about Bobby was Prudence.  She wasn't worried
about Prudence.  But now she started calling some other names in the book.

   When that was done - and it had turned out to be a rather useless
pursuit, based on what she'd been told - she thought about Jeff Hamilton.
He was in his room, taking a nap.  She couldn't believe that the ruckus
hadn't awakened him.  Then again, she'd kept him up most of the night.

   The two sluts had retreated to their rooms too, and she almost never saw
Randy and Wanda, except at meals.

   She climbed the stairs.  She told herself it was just to make sure Jeff
was all right.  She eased his door open, and slipped inside.

   She barely made it out in time to get lunch ready.

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

   Saturday night was a night Bobby would always remember.  He got his
first taste of the rigors of married life, which was a wakeup call that he
hadn't expected.

   "Where will we live?"

   "Where will the money to live on come from?"

   "What about your mamma, and the B&B?"

   Those and a host of other question left him scratching his head, as the
reality of all the things he'd have to think about to make a home were
pounded into his head by the ever pragmatic Constance.

   Then she said that those things would all be worked out, and wanted the
kisses she'd longed for for so long, but had been denied.

   She got him to the point where he felt like jelly, as, piece by piece,
their clothing seemed to fall off.  She was fascinated by his penis and he
was shocked when she sucked it, making noises that convinced him beyond any
possible doubt that she loved what she was doing.

   She let him give her orgasms with his fingers between her legs, and his
lips on her breasts, but stopped him when he rose to mount her.

   "After we're married," she gasped, putting both hands on his chest.

   She'd looked forward to punishing him, but she didn't enjoy it after
all.

   He pulled back without a word, and sat, panting.

   "OK," he said.

   She couldn't believe it.  He'd just stopped!

   She regretted the little sadistic streak in her that had demanded she do
that.  She was on the verge of having what she had so desperately wanted,
and had thought he'd be unable to control himself.  She'd just wanted to
make him work for it.  But he just stopped!

   "You're right," he said.  He took a deep breath.  "I'll beat off."

   "You will NOT!" she barked.

   She scrambled up onto her hands and knees, her tingling breasts hanging
and wobbling as she crawled to him.  She couldn't take it back.  She was
too proud to do that.  But she could get something else she'd dreamed of.

   She lowered her mouth onto his prick again.

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

   Interestingly, on that night, the last day of July, 1977, in another
state, far away, Agatha Roberts was dealing with another consequence that
had issued from the substance that Constance Harris' mouth was suddenly
full of.  Jim, his eyes a little wild, encouraged her, along with the
doctor, to push one last time, and the pressure that had been tormenting
her suddenly vanished.  There was still pain, but it was so much less that
her sigh of relief was genuine as she flopped back onto the bed.

   "A boy!" announced the doctor.

   Jim dabbed at Agatha's face with the damp towel he'd been using for
hours, and smiled down into her face.

   "Now that that's done," he said.  "Will you marry me?"

   Agatha barked a half laugh, which was all she had energy to produce.

   "You're insane," she sighed.

   "Insanely in love with you," he said.

   "I just had a baby," she whispered.

   "The first of many," he countered.  "What's his name?"

   "Michael," she sighed.  "My protector and inspiration."

   "My grandfather's name was Michael," said Jim.

   "Really?"

   "Really."

   "Then I guess I have to marry you," she said softly.  "It's fate."

   "Let me get him for you," said Jim.

   As he laid the baby on her chest, he said "This is Michael, who brought
us together.  I'll love him forever."

   Chapter Thirty-six



   Suzie left for Kansas City on the Friday morning following Bobby's
proposal.  She had been relieved, even more than the others, that Constance
had accepted.  That was because Suzie had wanted to crawl into Bobby's bed
every night she was home.  That he was engaged to Connie, had given her the
strength not to do so.  She was pretty sure she wasn't pregnant.  She'd
know soon.  Bobby had flushed her full of his sperm on the eighteenth day
of her cycle.  She had conflicting emotions about this conundrum.  As the
week passed, she finally decided that medicine was more important.  That
helped her stay out of his bed too.

   On the morning she left, she hugged everyone goodbye.  They'd all come
to see her off.  She left Bobby until last, and asked him to carry her
suitcases to the car for her, before hugging him.  Standing by the trunk,
she touched his side.

   "If I'd have come to your bed, these last few nights ...  would you have
...?" She left it unspoken.

   He smiled at her and hugged her.  She felt weak as he pushed his prick
against her.

   "I'd have wanted to," he said.  "But no.  I can't do that any more."

   She went weak in his arms, but stiffened again immediately.

   "Thank goodness," she breathed.  "I don't know what I'm going to do when
I come back."

   "You'll meet some handsome guy up there in the city," he said.  "He'll
want you as much as I do."

   "But will I want him?" she asked, her face buried in his chest.

   "Time will tell," he said.  "You have to want that to happen.  Don't
waste as much time as I did."

   She looked up at him.  "You didn't waste your time," she said.  "You
made my sisters very happy."

   "I almost ruined everything," he said, his face serious.  "And if I got
you pregnant, it may still ruin things."

   "I don't think you did," she said.

   "Connie said you wanted me to get you pregnant." His face was serious.

   "I was just talking," she said.  "It doesn't matter now.  I have to
study hard, and that's more important."

   "I agree," he said.

   "I love you," said the sister he had been worried would never say that
to him.

   "I love you too."

   "I know that now," she said.

   "Go on." His voice sounded funny, and his eyes glistened.  "Go learn to
be a doctor."

   The others caught up with them then, and it was another whirlwind of
goodbyes, until, in her own defense, Suzie rolled up the window and drove
away.

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

   Between then and October, when the wedding was scheduled, Constance
Harris lost her pride.  On many occasions she begged him to fuck her ... 
demanded it.  But Bobby was practicing the control that he'd always had ...
when he wanted to have it.  He did everything else she asked, and they
spent hours in a clasping naked embrace, as he gave her most of the
pleasure she sought ...  but not all.  As the wedding approached, she began
to see that this had been a good thing after all.  She couldn't WAIT for
her honeymoon.  She was getting the man of her dreams, quite literally, and
there would be something new and exciting on their first night as a married
couple.

   She planned the wedding for the middle of her cycle.

   There was another thing she'd been wanting for years, and she hoped that
would be started on her honeymoon too.

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

   The wedding was a celebration on a number of levels.  The groom, in his
tuxedo, looked tall, strong and confident.  People were used to seeing him
like that.  The bride, in her flowing pale ivory dress, also looked
confident, in a way most people weren't used to seeing her.  Connie had
always faded into the background, for the most part.

   That day, as she strolled almost languidly down the aisle toward Bobby,
was nothing like that.  She looked like she was in no hurry, but covered
the distance with remarkable speed.

   There were the inevitable tears that weddings seem to bring out.  Many
of the women shedding those tears had children sitting beside them who bore
a marked resemblance to the groom ...  with good reason.

   It was a small wedding, as weddings go, but every guest was special,
either to the groom, or to the bride.  Her best friend, belly bulging with
a child that was NOT from Bobby's loins, preceded her down the aisle, to
stand across from Will Bradford, whose silver prosthetic hand gleamed in
the lights, showing a burnished set of odd hues that were the result of
that claw being used to pull photographs from chemicals that a normal man
might have used gloves to handle.

   Only that one set of attendants stood with the bride and groom, during
the ceremony.  The ring bearer was Kyle Harris, and the flower girl was
Katherine Harris, brother and sister to the bride, officially.  No one in
the congregation snickered, though.  People who might have snickered had
not been invited.

   The reception line was a disaster, but only because all the women in it
had ruined makeup by the time they got past the bride and hugged the groom.
Constance's own makeup had been chosen carefully by Bev, because she knew
what was going to happen.  Along with Mirriam, she had made it her business
to make contact with each woman who was present.

   They came to the line in no particular order, some escorted by men, and
others who were not.  Tilly was first.  Jill and Christy followed her,
together.  Their men were hanging back.  Martha was there, her husband
standing beside her, looking a little dazed.  Felicity and Annie were
accompanied by Chester, who shyly asked if he could kiss the bride.  Amanda
was next, followed by Liz Sinderson, her husband on her arm.  Erica was
behind them.  She had come alone, leaving her child in Hutchinson, where
she was now teaching school, and living in an apartment.  Then there was
Agatha, with her new baby and her new husband, Jim.  Jim had insisted that
they make the drive, because he was firmly convinced that it was Bobby who
had caused the chain of events that had brought Agatha to him.  Rhonda and
Janet were together, as always, and last, before all Bobby's sisters, was
Renee.

   Sherry Winston had not come.  She had sent a card and a gift.  Misty had
sent an immense flower arrangement, and a letter that detailed her
unhappiness that she couldn't be there in person.

   What created all the emotion, as the women filed by, was that each one
expressed some measure of disappointment that she wasn't in the bride's
shoes, along with a promise that the past was past, and that the world was
a beautiful place for Constance to start her new life in.

   She was shocked by these comments, initially, but it only took three
women before she realized what was happening, and then she wept freely as
all these women gave her this man, no strings attached.  It would make a
tremendous difference in the future, because all her doubts left her as
that happened.

   Finally Bobby's sisters followed the others.  There was laughter and joy
in their approach to the bride and groom.  This was something all of them
had worked for and made fools of themselves, as they now looked back on it,
to bring about.  But none regretted their last night with Bobby.  Constance
knew that too, and that would also make a difference in how she looked at
things in the future.

   Finally they were off.  Chester had provided round trip tickets to
Hawaii, along with five nights, paid in full, at a swanky hotel on the
beach.  When Bobby objected, Chester just said he'd always wanted to go
there, but never had, and was too old to, now.  Those tickets were
responsible, when he shyly asked to kiss the bride, for the heartfelt kiss
Constance gave him, and which left him quite pink, while his wife stood
next to him, smiling.

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

   The breeze wafted gently through the blinds, which were angled so that
people outside could not see the naked bodies inside the hotel room.  The
lovers, inside that room, lay dozing in each other's arms.  They'd been in
Hawaii almost a whole day, and had yet to touch sand with their shoes, or
feet.

   Upon entering the room, Bobby had turned to face the bell boy, who was
putting their bags on little shelves designed to hold them.  The man turned
with a distracted look on his face, and prepared to give these guests the
memorized spiel about what was available in the hotel.  He knew these two
were newlyweds, because they were in one of the honeymoon suites.  He knew
they wouldn't hear a word he said.  Honeymooners never did.  They had other
things on their minds.  Even so, he wasn't prepared for what he saw.  He
froze, and his mouth dropped open as he stared past Bobby's shoulder.



   Bobby was in the process of getting a five dollar bill out of his wallet
when he saw the consternation in the man's eyes, which slowly turned into a
wide smile.  He turned to see Constance removing the last of her clothing.

   "Tip the man, Bobby," she said, standing there completely naked, and
completely unembarrassed.  "There's something I've been wanting to do for a
long time, and I don't want to wait any longer."

   To his credit, the bell boy simply snatched the five from Bobby's
fingers and almost sprinted for the door, yelling "Enjoy your stay!"

   It was Bobby's face that was flushed, as the door closed.  "You're a
hussy," he said.

   "I'm your wife," said Constance, cupping her breasts.  "And I want
what's mine, now."

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

   Forty-five minutes later Connie relaxed and luxuriated in the afterglow
of being thoroughly made love to.  She felt a heavy, warm feeling in her
belly that she knew was Bobby's sperm.  She knew she was ripe, and imagined
his sperm swarming her egg, as he panted, next to her.

   "You have to do to me everything you ever did to any of them," she said
softly.

   "Hmmm?"

   "Anything you did with any of those women ...  you have to do with me.
You're mine now.  I'm taking over."

   "You already took over," he said.  "I think that happened when, instead
of saying 'I do' you said 'You bet your ass I do.'" He chuckled.  "I bet
your mother peed her pants."

   "You're not supposed to be thinking about my mother," pouted Constance.

   "If I'm supposed to do everything to you that I ever did to them, I have
to think about them." He reached over and slid a hand onto one of her
breasts.

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

   Valentines Day, 1978

   Constance sat on top of Bobby, rocking slowly back and forth as his
thick, stiff prick caused her fifth orgasm of the night.  He squeezed her
nipples as her pussy rippled around his rigid manhood.

   "I really like it like this," she moaned.

   "This is just the first way to deal with a pregnant belly," he said,
stroking hers.  "There are lots of others.  I'm only a third of the way
through my list.  Then, just to make sure I covered everything, I'll have
to start all over again."

   "You're insatiable," she sighed.  "I had no idea it would be like this.
You're wearing me out."

   "Hey, don't blame me," he said.  "This was all your idea."

   "I didn't know it would be like this," she said, thrusting her hips
forward.  "I'm going to cum AGAIN, Bobbeeeee!"

   "Are you complaining?" he asked.  He pulled at her nipples as her pussy
rippled and squeezed his prick.  He had to wait for her to get her breath
back for her answer.

   "Of course not," she panted.  "I just didn't know I'd spend as much time
in bed as I do on my feet, that's all." She acted tired, but he noticed
that her hips were already moving again, and that she didn't need his
support to stay upright.

   "I suppose you're right," he said.  "I should pace myself.  I have a lot
of work left to do."

   "What do you mean?" she asked, looking at him warily.

   "You said, as I recall, that I have to do to you everything I did to any
of them." He put his hands on her round belly and stroked there in circles.
"This ...  is only ..." he panted, "number one." His hips jerked upwards
and, for the third time that night, she felt the warm ball of his spunk,
jetting into her.

   Connie's eyes widened.  In her mind's eye, she remembered the people who
had come to see her be married to Bobby.  They had brought their children
to the wedding ...  Bobby's children ...  and she had counted them.

   She closed her eyes as she felt his penis jerk and spurt inside her.



   There had been twenty-one of them.

   And that didn't count the four that hadn't been there.
   The End 


  
gigolo15_agatha_all