Foreword This is the seventh 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.

   Bob

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

   The Making of a Gigolo - Rhonda Wilson by Beating Off Bob

   Chapter One

   1972

   Rhonda Wilson sat bleary-eyed and looked at her best friend, Janet. 
She'd known Janet for a long time, ever since they'd been in school
together.  They'd graduated in 1960, and had both gotten married.  Each was
the other's Maid of Honor.

   Things had gone sour for Janet within a year.  Her husband, a star of
the basketball team, was vicious when he drank.  He didn't drink often, but
two trips to the emergency room were enough to convince Janet that she'd do
better trying things on her own.  She worked at the grocery store, which
wasn't glamorous but, after twelve years, paid the bills.  She'd tried
again, in 1965, but managed to find another abusive man.  She'd been what
she called clean and sober since her second divorce.

   Rhonda finished her third martini with a gulp.  She knew she shouldn't
drink so many, and so quickly, but she was miserable.  She looked back at
Janet, who was smiling and refilling her glass already.  Janet was fishing
for information.  Rhonda knew that.  As she studied her friend, she was
trying to figure out whether to give Janet what she wanted ...  or not.

   Janet had fared fairly well in the battle with age ...  not that thirty
was so terribly old ...  but Rhonda FELT old.  Living with a secret did
that to a person ...  made them feel old.  At least it did that to her.

   She didn't have to stand beside her friend, looking in a mirror, to know
that she had not faired quite as well as Janet had.  Janet still had an
hour glass shape.  They played tennis, on the high school court, every
Saturday and then, in the summer, went swimming together.  Rhonda had been
in the locker room enough times to know that Janet's breasts were still
firm and pointed, though the tips of her breasts seemed to pull downward.
It made her silver dollar sized areolas and nipples, both shockingly pink,
seem to be looking down.  She still had her long honey blond hair, with the
same light sprinkling of slightly darker hair between her legs.

   By comparison to her friend, Rhonda felt very plain.  Her brown hair,
neither light nor dark, hung limply to her shoulders whenever there was the
slightest trace of humidity in the air.  Her own breasts were still firm
and round, but only took a B cup to contain.  Some fat had already settled
on her hips.  Her brown mat of pubic hair was luxurious, but then, what did
that matter?  Nobody ever saw it.  Especially not Herb, her husband.

   That was her secret ...  the one she'd kept for eleven years.  Herb
worked at the fertilizer factory, outside of town, and had ever since
they'd graduated from high school.  She'd been surprised at his interest in
her, back then.  Back then she'd carried thirty pounds too much weight, and
had pimples that wouldn't quit.  Glasses had capped off an appearance that
she was quite sure would prevent her, forever, from getting a man.  Then,
in her senior year, Herb Wilson asked her to the prom, right out of the
blue.  She'd accepted gladly, and, within a month, he had asked her to
marry him.  She kept pinching herself, thinking she was in a dream.

   During the first year of her marriage she had lost the weight, changed
her diet, and gotten contacts.  She had done all those things because her
husband made love to her infrequently, at best, and with no enthusiasm, at
worst.  There were times when he couldn't perform at all.

   It took her a whole year to figure out that he was a homosexual.

   He had finally admitted it to her, tearfully, and had also admitted that
he had chosen her to "cure" him.  It hadn't worked.  What made his penis
rock hard was ...  another penis.  He had a boyfriend, at work.  Two, in
fact.  Rhonda was amazed there were three homosexual men in the whole
county, much less in one little town.

   That was when she went to work, seeking enough security to quietly get a
divorce, like her best friend had, so soon before.  Herb begged her not to
divorce him.  They could stay married, he said.  He'd give her money. 
They'd live a lie, but people would believe that lie.  He threatened to
kill himself if she exposed him, and used every other trick in the book to
manipulate her into staying in the marriage, so that people would think he
was normal.  She'd never had a boyfriend before Herb.  Sex with him had
been awkward, and unfulfilling.  The ten or fifteen times he stayed hard
long enough she'd felt some distinct tingles of pleasure that she assumed
must be the vaunted orgasm that girls in school had so raved about.  They
were OK, she guessed, but nothing to write home about.

   Rhonda realized she had drained the martini that Janet had so recently
poured her, and stared at the glass.  She was snockered.  That's what she
was.  She began to giggle.  Snockered ...  blitzed ...  drunk as a skunk
... at two thirty in the afternoon.  Herb was home, sleeping in his
soundproofed room.

   "Sweetie," cooed Janet, pouring more clear liquid into Rhonda's glass.
"I know you're unhappy.  Why won't you tell me what's wrong?"

   "Not happy!" blurted Rhonda.  "No ...  mean AM happy!  In fact, I'm
sloshed!" She perked up enough to sing the line from the James Brown song.
"I feeeeeel good, duh, duh duh, duh duh, duh duh!"

   Janet leaned forward and snatched the martini away from her friend. 
She'd given her too much.  You never knew, with Rhonda, when she'd had
enough.  The woman was as tight lipped as the government was before they
finally released the Pentagon Papers, just last year.  And Janet just knew,
deep in her gut, that Rhonda had a secret just as juicy and just as
shocking as the Pentagon Papers had been.

   She sighed.  Her friend was too far gone, now.  She'd have to try again
tomorrow.  Best to just let her go to sleep, right here in the living room.
Lord knows she didn't have much to go home to.  Herb worked the night shift
at the fertilizer plant ...  had ever since they were married.  How could a
woman live with a man who went to work at 10:30 at night and got home at
8:30 or 9:00 in the morning, after his wife had gone to work?  By the time
poor Rhonda got off work, at noon, he was asleep in that fortress he'd
built that blocked out all sound and all light.  He didn't get up again
until an hour before he left for work.  For perhaps the thousandth time
Janet wondered how Rhonda maintained her sanity.  She only got to see her
husband twice a week, on his days off.  Even then, he slept the same hours,
to keep his rhythm going.

   Maybe that was all it was that was making Rhonda seem to disappear a
little more each day.  Janet knew she couldn't have survived ten years of
that herself.

   Of course the bright side was that Janet got to spend every afternoon
with her friend.  She watched as Rhonda's head tilted further to one side,
and her eyes went glassy.

   She got up to straighten her out on the couch, so that she wouldn't
develop a crick in her neck.  There wasn't much to do on a winter
afternoon, but if they thought of something, she didn't want Rhonda to be
under the weather, and unable to do it.  She saw that Rhonda's blouse was
tangled, and had pulled tightly across her chest.  That wouldn't be
comfortable either.  She'd just unbutton a couple of buttons, and get a
blanket for her.

   Her fingers went to the buttons.  One came loose, and then the next. 
Rhonda's eyes opened wide, but it was obvious she was looking at nothing.

   "Doan TUCH me ..." she mumbled.  Then, as her eyes closed again, she
added "Go tushh ...  girlfriend".

   Janet stood, frozen.  She couldn't believe her friend had thought she
was molesting her.  It was ridiculous!  They hugged, sometimes, but not
that often.  And the disgust in her drunken voice!  Surely she didn't think
her best friend in the whole world was a lesbian!

   Her mind jarred.  That didn't make sense.  She must have been talking to
someone else, in her mind.  It could only have been Herb.  She had thought
it was Herb undoing her blouse.  That had to be it.  And she had told him
to stop!  What was that other part about?  Girlfriend?  Did Herb have a
girlfriend?  That was it!  Herb was cheating on her!  She knew it ...  or
suspected it anyway ...  and she'd told him to go to his girlfriend!

   Maybe she'd gotten the secret out of Rhonda after all!

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

   It took three hours, but Rhonda finally woke up.  She was lucky to be
the kind of person who rarely got a hangover.  Generally, she didn't drink
all that much, or all that often ...  just when things came to a head, like
they had the night before, when a man she'd never met came out of Herb's
bedroom with him, while she was standing at the refrigerator in her
nightgown, looking for a bedtime snack.

   She yawned and stretched, noticing the blanket over her, and smiled. 
Janet was such a good friend.  She looked around, but didn't see anybody.
Her mouth tasted foul, so she got up to go to the kitchen.  She was as at
home in Janet's house as she was in her own, and knew there would be orange
juice in the fridge.  She was pouring a glass when Janet walked into the
kitchen from the direction of the utility room.

   "You're up!" said the woman, cheerily.  "How do you feel?"

   "I'm fine," said Rhonda.

   "No, you're not," said Janet firmly.  "And we need to talk about it."

   "What did I do now?" asked Rhonda, trying to think back on what she
might have done after all those martinis.

   "You got drunk in the middle of the day, for one thing," said Janet.

   Rhonda turned and stared.  "And who mixed up all those martinis?"

   Janet acted like she hadn't said a word.  "Please, Rhonda ...  talk to
me.  I can help.  I know I can."

   "Help with what?" asked Rhonda.

   "Your problem," said Janet.  Her suspicions about Herb were gelled, but
not completely set.  If they were wrong, it could completely wreck their
friendship, and she didn't want that.  At the same time, she was unable to
control her desire to meddle in her friend's business, though that's not
how she would have characterized it.

   "What problem is that?" asked Rhonda, not cooperating at all.

   Janet took a chance.

   "I know about Herb, Rhonda," she said flatly.

   Rhonda's mind jangled.  While she didn't get the pain that went with
hangovers, sometimes her mind wasn't quite as smooth as it should be when
she got up from sleeping one off.  The first thing she thought of was how,
last night, Herb had brought his lover out, right in front of her.  That
was the first time he had been so blatant about things.  Always before, he
had been circumspect, and discreet.  What if he'd done something ...  in
public ...  that was indiscreet.

   "What did he do?" she asked, her voice shaky.  "Who was he with?"

   Janet was in a pinch, now.  She had nothing, other than a few mumbled,
drunken words, to base her theory on.  Rhonda's reaction, though, suggested
that she at least had suspicions too.  Her mind raced.

   "They were ...  um ...  holding hands," she said, tentatively.

   "In public?!" Rhonda moaned.  "Shit!  He's always tried to be so
secretive about it.  I can't believe he'd do that in public!" She actually
wrung her hands, and then looked at her friend.  "Who else saw them?  Where
was it?"

   Janet was elated.  It WAS about Herb, and she DID know.  In fact, she'd
apparently known about it for some time.  She tried to hedge.

   "I don't think anyone else saw them," she said carefully.  "I was really
shocked by it, though.  I didn't know for sure if you knew about them or
not."

   Rhonda moaned.  "I've known since a year after we were married.  I
couldn't tell you, Janet.  I couldn't tell anybody.  Are you SURE nobody
else saw them?  Where was it?"

   Janet was mystified.  This had been going on for ten YEARS?  And she'd
never suspected before this?  How could Rhonda put up with a cheating
husband for ten whole YEARS?!  In her eagerness to find out more, she
slipped up.

   "It was in the canned goods aisle.  It was late, and nobody else was
there to see.  I just turned the corner into the aisle and there they
were."

   Rhonda's mind had cleared, possibly due to the surge of adrenaline that
entered her bloodstream, when she thought her husband's secret had been
discovered, and that her life was about to be involved in a train wreck. 
Janet's description, though, didn't make any sense at all.  Herb rarely
went to the IGA at all.  She did all the shopping, and he gave her a list
of the things he wanted.  Further, the IGA closed at eight, and Herb was
invariably in bed until at least nine.

   For the first time since getting up, she concentrated on her friend's
demeanor.  Janet was her best friend, but that didn't mean that Rhonda was
ignorant of her faults.  Janet's biggest fault was that she was a busybody,
and poked into everybody else's business.  Rhonda had always believed that
was because Janet, like herself, had no real life of her own.  So, like an
emotional vampire of some kind, she fed off of the excitement, pain, and
other emotional goings-on of the people around her.  She had that look
about her right now, in fact.  Her eyes were bright, and she was slightly
flushed, leaning forward a bit, as if she were ready to ...  feed.

   "What's going on, Janet?" asked Rhonda heavily.

   "Whatever do you mean?" asked Janet, her eyes getting guarded.  "I'm
just trying to help you."

   "How, exactly, are you trying to help me, Janet?" asked Rhonda, her
voice tight.

   "Sweetie, you know that holding things inside isn't good for you," said
Janet, soothingly.  "I'm just trying to get you to talk about it ...  get
it off your chest."

   Rhonda stiffened.  "No you're not," she said, anger creeping into her
voice and stance.  "What you're trying to do is pry into the part of my
private life that is none of your business!"

   "How can you SAY that!" squealed Janet.  "I'm your best friend!  If Herb
is running around on you, then I CARE.  How can you just LET him cheat on
you like that?"

   Rhonda's brain evaluated that last statement and she felt both the
elation of knowing that her secret was still safe, because it was clear
that Janet had lied through her teeth about seeing Herb with someone, and
the dismal emptiness of knowing that her best friend had just lied through
her teeth about seeing Herb with someone.  Oddly, perhaps because their
friendship had meant so much to her over the years ...  had been her anchor
...  the lie took precedence.

   "You lied to me," she said, feeling anger and agitation.  "You didn't
see Herb with anyone.  You were just fishing."

   "BUT YOU JUST ADMITTED IT!" wailed Janet.

   "I DID NOT!" yelled Rhonda.

   "YES YOU DID!" screamed Janet.  "YOU JUST SAID HE'D BEEN CHEATING ON YOU
FOR TEN FUCKING YEARS!"

   "NO I DIDN'T!" Rhonda screamed back.  "I SAID HE'D BEEN QUEER FOR TEN
FUCKING YEARS!"

   The silence in the room was deafening, after all the yelling.  Janet's
eyes went round as saucers, and Rhonda moaned in frustration, at her lack
of control.  Now her secret really WAS out.

   "Oh, baby," moaned Janet, stepping toward her friend.  "I'm so sorry."

   Like many friends who have a knock down drag out fight ...  well a real
spat, anyway ...  these two women were suddenly clutched together.  Rhonda
was suddenly bawling, as all the pent up frustration, rage and shame burst
out of her, and Janet had lost all her desire to uncover something juicy.
What she had uncovered made her shudder.  All she cared about now was that
her best friend's heart was broken and bleeding.

   It was up to her to apply first aid.

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

   Bev pulled back from kissing Bill.  They had been doing that, now, for
the last twenty minutes, and it was fun ...  but she wanted more.  Her late
night sessions with Bobby had taught her there was so much more that was
just as much fun, and would send streaks of joy through her body.

   But ...  as serious as things seemed to be getting with Bill Gregory,
she had an instinctive understanding that, if she went too fast, he'd
somehow know that she was much more experienced than he thought she was. 
He thought she was a virgin, which was, technically, true.  While Bobby's
thick middle finger had probed every inch of her spasming pussy, he had not
put his prick in her.  She'd tried, on several occasions to get him to do
just that, but he wouldn't do it.

   She wondered what Bill's semen tasted like, but she couldn't find that
out yet either.  Not yet.  Just letting him put his hand on her breast,
decently outside her clothing, had been a big step for him.  She could
tell, because he got all wiggly, and his kisses became much more fun.

   "I love kissing you," he sighed.

   "I love being kissed by you," she said.

   "When do I get to see these?" he asked, squeezing her left breast.

   "I want you to," she moaned.  "Really, I do ...  but ..."

   "I know," he sighed.  "And you're right.  If you let me do that, I'd
just want to do more.  I already want to do more."

   "You do?" she breathed.  Her pussy itched.  She needed to rub.

   "I wish we were out of school," he moaned.  "Then I could ..." He didn't
finish.

   "Could what?" asked Bev, excitement and fear battling for prominence in
her heart.

   "Never mind," he said.  "Kiss me again."

   Bev wasn't stupid.  She knew a hint when she heard one, though he didn't
deliver it as some kind of bait.  And he didn't pressure her any more.

   Except to take her breath away with hot kisses.

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

   It was days later, and Rhonda had been avoiding her.  Janet fidgeted,
anxiously, and pulled her coat closer around her.  It was freezing, and
Rhonda had agreed to meet her for lunch at the Wagon Wheel.  True, she had
had to badger her friend into it, but Janet wouldn't let this thing ... 
this horrible, ugly thing that was tormenting her best friend ...  wreck
their own relationship too.

   She stood up as she saw Rhonda park down the street, and get out of the
car.

   "It's freezing!" she called out.  "Hurry up!"

   "Why on Earth didn't you just wait inside?" asked Rhonda, as she hurried
up.

   "I wasn't sure you'd come in if you didn't see me," said Janet.

   "Of course I would.  Why wouldn't I?"

   "You've been avoiding me," accused her friend.

   "No I haven't!" she said.  "OK, maybe a little.  I'm just so embarrassed
about it.  You haven't told anybody ...  have you?"

   Janet snorted.  "I promised I wouldn't.  Have I ever betrayed our
trust?"

   "No," said Rhonda softly.  "Thank you."

   Janet, despite her unbounded joy when she was gossiping, had, in fact,
never broken a trust with Rhonda.  That trust was too important to her. 
Janet knew her life was basically pointless.  She went to work, and then
went home.  The only real fun she ever had was with Rhonda.  Rhonda was
important to her, maybe the most important person in the world.

   "Let's go inside.  My nipples are frozen solid!" Janet opened the door.

   The heat and smells were like a balm to both women, as they stepped into
the diner.  Both had been there before, many times, usually just for coffee
and one of Sal's to-die-for cinnamon rolls.

   "Hey, girls," called out Jill.  "Just sit anywhere.  Be right with you."

   They sat, and began to shed their outer clothing.  Jill came to the
table with two cups, and a pot of coffee.

   "Cinnamon roll today?" she asked.

   Janet glanced at Jill, and took in the rounded belly beneath her apron.
She felt a twinge of jealousy.  She'd wanted a big family.  It hadn't
happened.  She knew Jill was divorced, but not much more.  She wondered who
the man was, and put that on her list of things to nose out sometime.

   "We're actually going to eat lunch, today," she said, smiling.

   "Liver and onions, fixed in a cast iron skillet is the special today,"
said Jill.

   "You're kidding!" said Rhonda.  "People actually eat that?"

   "Some folks love it," said Jill, shrugging her shoulders.  She'd
learned, over the years, that there was no accounting for taste, in food,
or men, or just about anything else.

   "I think I'll stick to the chicken fried steak," said Rhonda.

   "Mashed or fried or French fries?" asked Jill.

   "Fried," said Rhonda, her mouth already watering.  Sal made the best
fried potatoes she'd ever had.

   "Green beans or corn?"

   "Beans."

   Jill turned to Janet, who was looking at her belly.

   "And you?"

   "Same thing," said Janet.  She gave an opening salvo.  "I didn't know
you were dating anybody."

   "I'm not," said Jill, smiling tightly.

   "Oh," said Janet, disappointed at being shot down.

   "Just coffee, or do you want some tea too?" asked Jill.

   "Coffee is fine," said Janet.  "Maybe some water too." Rhonda just
nodded.

   Jill left, and Janet leaned closer.

   "Listen," she said softly.  "I've been thinking.  If he's seeing ... 
other people ...  why can't you do that too?"

   "How?" asked Rhonda.  "It's not like I can go down to the Ten Spot and
troll for a man." The Ten Spot was the road house on the highway that
bypassed the center of Granger.  Everybody in town, who went to a bar, went
to the Ten Spot, unless they drank in the privacy of their own homes.

   "There's got to be a way," insisted Janet.  "Look at Jill.  She got
pregnant, and she's single."

   "Who said anything about getting pregnant?" blurted Rhonda, much too
loudly.  Janet looked to see Jill, at the counter, filling sugar jars.  She
looked up, and Janet averted her eyes.

   "Shhhh," she cautioned.  "All I meant was that she found a man somewhere
or she wouldn't be in that condition.  And if she can find a man, so can
you."

   "Why haven't you done that?" asked Rhonda.

   Janet blinked.  She'd asked herself that question a thousand times. 
Every time, she'd shied away from actually doing anything about it, because
she was convinced that any man she picked would turn out like the last two.
Janet had very low self esteem.  Instead, she had gone shopping in a seamy
part of Wichita, where she was able to get a reasonably life-size,
reasonably realistic ...  sex aid, as they were called.  She used it
frequently.  It was enough.  It wasn't great, but it was enough.

   "I'm too busy to deal with all that," she tried.

   "Bullshit, Janet." snorted Rhonda.  "You're in the same situation as I
am.  You've got no man, and I've got no man.  Just because you work three
or four hours longer each day than I do doesn't mean you're too busy to get
laid."

   "OK, OK," said Janet, looking around again.  "Would you keep it down?"

   "And you're gorgeous!" said Rhonda, peering at her friend.  "I'm not,
but you are.  You could find a man if you wanted one."

   "Here's your water," said Jill, suddenly standing beside the table.

   Both women looked up guiltily.

   "Having man troubles?" she asked, lightly, looking at Janet.

   "Well ...  uh ...  it's hard ...  you're divorced too.  You know how it
is." Janet's eyes fell to Jill's swollen belly and she blushed.  "I mean
..." She looked away.

   Jill giggled.  "Don't be embarrassed," she said.  "You're right.  I used
to know how it is ...  or was ...  or something!" She laughed.

   "So," said Rhonda.  "How did you ...  um ...  find a solution?" Jill
looked at her and she felt like her thoughts were written on her face.  "I
mean Janet's my best friend ...  you know ...  she deserves to have some
happiness in her life." She gulped, as Jill continued to stare at her. 
"Like me," she added weakly.

   Jill hesitated for a few seconds, and then smiled.  "I met a man," she
said lightly.

   "But how?" said both women, as if they'd rehearsed saying it together.

   Jill looked around.  She lowered her voice.  "He's a very special man,"
she said, almost whispering.  "He ...  takes care of me."

   "Oh," said Janet, slumping.  "Well, I can understand that.  You're young
and pretty." Something occurred to her.  "But if he's ...  um ...  helping
you out ...  why are you still working?"

   Jill looked confused, and then frowned.

   "I don't mean he's my sugar daddy," she said stiffly.  "He just
understands what I need, and is there for me ...  on an emotional level. 
That's all.  He doesn't PAY me!"

   Janet flushed deep red, in embarrassment, for jumping to the wrong
conclusion.

   "I'm sorry," she said, meaning it.  "I didn't mean that." She clenched
her teeth.  "OK, I DID mean that, but I'm sorry I thought of you as that
kind of woman.  I should have known better, and I apologize." Her face got
earnest.  "It's just that it's so hard to figure this out.  I'm a two time
loser!  I wouldn't know how to find somebody like that if I tripped over
him."

   Jill realized how unsettled the woman was.  She didn't really know these
two all that well, but they were good customers, and they left her tips,
even when all they had was coffee.

   "Actually, I sort of tripped over this one myself," she said.  "It was a
complete accident, but it turned out to be the best thing that ever
happened to me.  At least I think it is."

   "But, you said he's not your boyfriend," said Rhonda.  "How nice can he
be if he won't step up and take responsibility for ..." She looked at
Jill's belly.

   "Oh, he tried," said Jill.  "But I don't need him that way.  He's sweet,
and if I WERE looking for a husband, he'd be the first on my list.  He just
makes me feel good, and I don't have all the entanglements of a serious
relationship."

   "You mean you LET him get you ..."

   "Pregnant?" asked Jill, smiling.  "Why not?  I've always wanted
children."

   "But that's crazy!" said Rhonda.

   "Why?" asked Jill.  "I mean sure, it's not for everybody, but it serves
my needs fabulously.  I love him, even though I don't want to marry him,
and I'll love our baby too."

   "Wow!" said Janet.  "I always wanted kids too, but I sure never thought
about doing it that way."

   Jill smiled.  "Like I said, it's not for everybody, but it works for me.
I'd better check on your food."

   She turned, and was abruptly gone.

   "How about that?" sighed Rhonda.  "She gets everything she wants, and
nothing she doesn't.  It just isn't fair."

   "Don't you get it?" hissed Janet.  "If SHE can do that, YOU can too!"

   "Yeah," said Rhonda, looking at the pert, in-shape, blond, young, cute
waitress.  "When pigs fly."

   Chapter Two

   There was more discussion, as they waited for their lunch, and Janet
tried to convince her friend that a man, such as Jill had described, could
be found.  There had to be more than one in the world, after all.  Rhonda
resisted, though, convinced that she wasn't pretty enough to engage that
kind of attention from a man.

   "Besides," she said at one point.  "What's the big deal, anyway?  The
few times Herb did have sex with me, it wasn't all that interesting.  I've
gone without all these years.  I'm used to it."

   "Not that interesting?!" gasped Janet.  She didn't miss either of her
husbands, but she missed what they could do in bed every day.  "Rhonda,
honey, you've never been made love to at all!  Think about it.  If Herb was
...  that way ...  when you got married, he never really made love to you.
He tried to go through motions that he wasn't interested in.  He didn't
care whether it was good for you or not.  Randy was a son of a bitch, but
he could make me sing in bed!  Chuck too, for that matter!"

   "Maybe," said Rhonda, unconvinced.  "But they also beat you up.  That
just doesn't sound like any fun to me."

   "All men aren't like that," said Janet.  "Just because I'm too chicken
to try to find a good one doesn't mean you should be the same way."

   "You?  Chicken?" Rhonda laughed.  "You're the strongest woman I know!"

   "It's all a front," moaned Janet.  "I'd LOVE to have a good man.  I'm
just such a loser at finding them that I gave up."

   "Well," said Rhonda.  "Then let's find YOU a good man first.  When that
little chore is accomplished, maybe he'll have a friend, or something."

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

   The Wagon Wheel wasn't the only place in town where there was a rush of
emotions.  Across town from the diner, in Prudence Harris' house, there was
plenty of emotion to go around.

   It was lunchtime, and, as had become his habit, Ted Brandywine, a
teacher in the local elementary school, was eating lunch with the two women
in his life.  He had three-month-old Kyle on his lap, while Prudence sat
topless and fed Kyle's twin sister, Katherine, from her left breast. 
Katherine had gone first, and when her milk let down, Prudence just let it
go.  It was easier to let it drip from the free breast than it was to mess
with bra flaps and clothing, so she went around topless as much as she
could during the day.  She had gotten so used to it that she didn't even
notice Ted staring at her dripping right breast.  She had a towel in her
lap that caught the drips.

   Ted was eating a sandwich, which he had brought with him, but he licked
his lips when he saw the dripping nipple.  He loved that nipple ...  both
of them ...  and he loved that milk too.  Prudence knew it, but the kids
came first.  Mirriam Dalton sat in another chair, eating ravioli, and
occasionally feeding some to Prudence.  Prudence had to remind her to serve
up a bite.  Mirriam seemed preoccupied, and had all morning.

   Mirriam and Prudence were best friends, a friendship that hadn't
developed until years after they went to school together.  When Prudence
had her twins, Mirriam, who had a set of twin girls of her own, now almost
sixteen years old, had more or less become an unpaid nanny, helping
Prudence, who was not married.  She usually came over after she did her
morning shift at the feed mill, where she worked part time.

   "Did something happen at work today?" asked Prudence, as Katherine
gulped greedily and sucked lustily.  Prudence was quite sure she'd never
get used to the almost sexual thrill of a baby sucking at her breast.

   "What?" asked Mirriam, looking at her friend.  "No ...  nothing."

   "Well what's on your mind, then?" asked Prudence.  "You've been moping
around ever since you got here."

   "Nothing," said Mirriam.  "I've just got a lot on my mind, that's all."

   Prudence stared at the woman.  It was obvious her mind was somewhere
else.  The irony of her last comment made that plain.

   "It can't be man troubles," said Ted, grinning.  Ted had begun having
affairs, if you could call them that, with both women six months earlier.
He bedded them both on the first picnic they went on, and had been sliding
his stiff prick in and out of them both as often as he could since then. 
This strange relationship was accepted, not only by the women themselves,
but by Constance, who was Prudence's seventeen-year-old daughter, and some
of Mirriam's children, who knew about the relationship.

   "Why not?" asked Mirriam, frowning.  She suddenly appeared to be paying
much better attention to what was going on.

   Ted blinked.  The relationship, thus far, had been as seamless and happy
as he could have possibly hoped for.  Neither woman wanted a husband, but
both women were lusty lovers, with great sexual hunger.  Prudence had been
six months pregnant on that first picnic, and had still let him into her
slick, hot depths.

   "I just thought ..." Ted started, intending to say that he thought the
only man in her life was making her happy.  It suddenly occurred to him
that he had no claim on her.  There could be other men in her life.  Had he
stopped to think about it, he would have tossed that idea.  He had fucked
Mirriam Dalton at least twice a week almost since he had known her.  At
most, they skipped a three or four days, once in a while, when she was
having her period.  Prudence was the same way.  "If it's anything I've
done, I'm sorry," he said.  "If it's some other man, I can't control it,
but if he's hurt you, I'll be very angry."

   Mirriam looked haunted for a few seconds, and glanced at Prudence.

   What Ted Brandywine did NOT know was that there WAS another man in
Mirriam's life.  That man was in Prudence's life too, and was, in fact, the
father of the baby sitting on Ted's lap.  Of course Ted knew that the twins
had a father, but that father was never mentioned, or talked about.  It was
Ted's opinion that it had been a travelling salesman, or an old friend or
flame, who had stopped in to see her, one day, and things had gotten out of
hand.  Ted didn't have a hint of a clue that Mirriam's son, Bobby was that
man, or that, occasionally, Mirriam slept with him in her own bed.

   He also didn't know Mirriam was pregnant.  Neither did Prudence.

   What was eating at Mirriam was that fact.  At forty years of age, she
had been stupid enough to let one of them impregnate her.  The problem was
she didn't know which one it was.

   The likeness of Prudence's twins to Bobby was almost startling, at least
to Mirriam.  She saw much of her son in the grandchildren she'd never be
able to claim as grandchildren.  That she was their Godmother would have to
do.

   But, when Ted found out she was pregnant ...  and Ted WOULD find out she
was pregnant ...  he would, quite naturally, assume it was his spurting
prick that had gotten her that way.  She knew Ted pretty well.  He was a
good man ...  a decent man ...  and even though she had already told him
she wanted no husband, this was going to complicate things.  Not only that,
she hated lying, and she didn't want to lie to him if ...  as was easily
possible ...  her baby also bore a startling likeness to her twenty-two
year old son.

   She hadn't the faintest idea of what to do.  She'd told Bobby, in a
moment of weakness, and he had bowled her over by being so elated, and
actually HOPING that he was the father.

   Now, though, Ted himself had handed her what seemed like a tantalizingly
simple solution to the problem.

   "Why couldn't there be another man?" she asked, again, emotion surging
in her at a possible way out.

   "Nobody said there couldn't be another man," said Ted, somewhat
defensively.  He felt a jealousy that he didn't like, and wished wasn't
there.  He loved these two women, and loving meant letting them be who they
were, whether it meant it suited his own desires or not.

   "Well, there is," blurted Mirriam.  She wished immediately that she
hadn't said it.  More than that, she wished she hadn't said it in such a
complaining voice.

   "That's fine," said Ted, waving his sandwich.  "I have no claim on you.
I love you.  I'll step aside.  Why didn't you just tell me?"

   "No!" yipped Mirriam.  She didn't want him to step aside.  She needed
him.  Her life was so much happier since he came into it.  She tried to get
a grip on herself, as she felt panic begin to nibble at her mind.

   "What I mean is that you don't have to step aside," she said,
helplessly, trying to salvage the situation.

   "Excuse me," said Ted.  "I know what we have shared ...  we three ... 
is a bit unusual." He frowned.  "OK, it's crazy.  It's unheard of.  Maybe
the Mormons try it once in a while, but this other man isn't going to stand
for it."

   "Yes he will!" blurted Mirriam.

   Prudence, who had a pretty good idea who Mirriam was talking about,
couldn't understand why she had brought it up in the first place.  Mirriam
had confessed to her that she had been unable to resist Bobby.  Prudence
understood how that could happen.  She'd been unable to resist him too. 
But things had been fine.  Why in the world would Mirriam be so agitated
about things now?

   Prudence looked at Mirriam ...  really looked at her.  She saw it almost
immediately, and couldn't believe she hadn't seen it already.  The radiance
...  the glow ...  the suddenly smoother skin.

   "Oh, baby," she sighed, her voice filled with emotion.

   Both Mirriam and Ted topped, and looked at her.  She got up.  Katherine
was just playing with the nipple anyway, so she pulled the baby off, and
went to hand her to Ted.  He started to hand Kyle to her, but she told him
to hold them both.

   Then she went to Mirriam, who was still staring at her topless friend,
and pulled her up.  Mirriam stood, uncertain as to what was going on.  She
had on jeans, which meant she couldn't be too far along, but she was
wearing a loose shirt, which hid her belly.  Prudence put her hand on that
shirt, and rubbed across Mirriam's abdomen.

   "How far along are you, baby?" she asked quietly.

   "Almost two months," moaned Mirriam, suddenly.  Tears came into her
eyes, and suddenly they were hugging tightly as Mirriam sobbed.

   Prudence stroked her back, and crooned into her ear that everything
would be fine.

   "No it won't," bawled Mirriam.  "I'm too old to have a babeeeeee."

   "I just had twins, darling," Prudence reminded her.

   "I know," moaned Mirriam.  "But I'll be almost forty ..." She sobbed. 
"ONE!" she bawled.

   "You're pregnant?" Ted's voice was an octave too high.  "You're ... 
PREGNANT!" he yelled.

   Katherine, who had dozed off in his arms, after her meal, jumped, and
began wailing.

   The women broke apart instantly, and Mirriam's tears dried up like drops
of water in a desert.

   "Now look what you've done!" she barked.

   They went around the table, each woman going for a different baby, as
Kyle started wailing too.  It was possible that he was just hungry, but
Ted's excitement had transmitted to them both.  At three months of age,
they didn't like excitement.

   Prudence reached for Kyle, and calmed him by the simple expedient of
offering him her nipple.  It only took a few seconds for him to realize
what was up, and accept the offer.  He developed the hiccups, though, and
fussed as he sucked.

   Mirriam took Katherine, and cradled her, rocking her gently and cooing
to her.  The maternal instinct in her made her calm, and that transmitted
to the little girl too.  She calmed.

   "You're pregnant?" whispered Ted, his excitement obvious.

   "Yes, I'm pregnant!" snapped Mirriam.  Katherine jerked in her arms, and
she turned away.  "I'm going to try to put her down for a nap."

   "You can't just walk out like that!" complained Ted.

   "Yes ...  I can," she said firmly, over her shoulder.  "I'll be back."

   "But I have to get back to school!" whined Ted, looking at his watch.

   "Then we'll discuss this later," said Mirriam.

   "You can't do this to me!" he wailed.

   "Oh shut up and leave the poor woman alone!" said Prudence.

   "I can't leave her alone," complained Ted.  "She might be pregnant with
my baby!"

   Mirriam stopped, just long enough to turn.

   "We will talk about this later," she said, her cadence measured.

   Ted saw the fire in her eyes, and his mouth snapped closed.  Then it
opened again, very briefly.

   "Yes Ma'am," he said, meekly.

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

   Back at the diner, Jill approached the table with her hands full of
plates.  She served the women, who had had their heads together since they
came in.  At first, she had thought that, like some of her customers, they
were talking about her.  Now that she was showing so plainly, everybody
wanted to know who the father was.  Granger was relatively small, and
everybody pretty well knew everybody else.  She ...  and Christy too, for
that matter ...  were fortunate to live at the end of a dead-end street,
with neighbors who either worked when the women were home ...  and Bobby
visited them ...  or minded their own business, and weren't the nosy type.
That was probably the only reason why rumors hadn't started about her, and
her baby's father.

   She had already been on the outcast side of the tracks, as far as that
went.  As a divorced woman, with good looks, she was assumed to be a threat
to most women, and assumed to be a harlot by some, especially now that she
was pregnant, with no known man in sight.  She didn't care about that very
much, but she liked her customers, and she didn't want Sal's business to
suffer because of her own desires.

   It was for that reason that she approached Janet and Rhonda's table
carefully evaluating the looks they gave her.  She didn't see condemnation.
All she saw was curiosity, and she knew what that was about.

   "Here you go," she said, cheerily, setting the plates down.  "More
coffee?"

   "Maybe a little," said Janet.  "Could I ask you a question?"

   "Shoot," said Jill.

   "It's kind of personal," admitted Janet.

   "Then I may not answer it," said Jill.

   "It's just that ...  well, you said you aren't ...  um ...  involved
with this man."

   "Oh, I'm involved with him," said Jill.  "He's a bright light in my
life. I just don't lay claim to him, that's all."

   "How does that work?" asked Janet, confusion on her face.  "Do you ...
like ...  pay him, or something?"

   Jill laughed.  "No, I don't pay him." She stopped, and seemed to think.
"Though I did give him a car I didn't need.  And he's worth every cent that
car was worth, I can tell you that!" She grinned, and then got serious.  "I
don't know.  I see him sometimes.  It's not like I'm on his schedule or
anything."

   "He has a schedule?" gasped Janet.

   "I didn't mean it quite like that," said Jill, wanting to giggle.  "I'm
not the only woman he sees.  Let's just put it that way."

   "Does he have any openings?" asked Janet, feeling like she was going to
faint dead away at any minute.

   Jill tilted her head, examining the woman.  She really had no idea what
Bobby's tastes were, other than her and Christy.  She had resisted his
flirting, in the beginning, and even told him she wasn't interested in him
at all.  Then, when things changed, he had resisted HER efforts to move
things along.  Bobby didn't choose to hop in bed with just any woman.  Then
again, when he did, he did it with all his enthusiasm.  Looking at this
woman, she had no idea if Bobby would consider adding her to his harem or
not.

   "I don't know," she said.  "I'd have to ask him."

   Janet's mouth dropped open.  Her mouth felt dry, when she closed it, and
she had to clear her throat before she could speak again.

   "Would you ...  consider doing that?" Her voice squeaked.

   "For you, I will," said Jill.  "You're a good tipper." She grinned, but
then looked around.  "But you can't tell anybody about this."

   "No," whispered Janet.  "Of course not.  You'll really talk to him?" She
felt like she was making a drug deal or something.

   "Yes.  Next time I see him, I'll see what he thinks."

   "Thank you," said Janet, emotion in her voice.  "I really mean that."

   "No promises," said Jill, carefully.

   "Of course not," said Janet, feeling some strength come back into her
body.  "Of course not," she said again.

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

   The man who had just been discussed at the Wagon Wheel, though his name
was never mentioned, was currently at home, having no odd jobs to perform
that day.  All his sisters, save one, were at school, and his mother was at
Prudence's house.

   "Please tell me you're taking your pills again," he panted to the sister
who was home.

   "I just missed a couple of days," panted Florence.  "I just forget,
sometimes ...  that's all ...  Ohhhh Bobby, I love it so much!"

   What Florence loved was Bobby's stiff prick surging to and fro in her
pussy.  Now nineteen, and unemployed, except for helping to maintain a
house with five younger sisters in it, Florence spent as much time as
possible under her big brother, naked, thrusting her pussy up to gobble up
his prick.  Unless she was on top of him, letting her weight down on his
prick.  Or, perhaps on her hands and knees, pushing back at him, while he
pushed forward.

   It hadn't always been that way.  Not by a long shot.  Up until a few
months ago, she'd been scared to death of Bobby, because of the very
activity they were currently engaged in.  She had wanted sex, but hadn't
known she wanted sex, and the feelings Bobby raised in her were feelings
she didn't understand, and didn't want.

   Then Flo had learned, completely by accident, that Bobby had made their
mother pregnant ...  or might have.  That, and a Christmas present he gave
her, crystallized in her mind that she was in love with her brother.  She'd
had chances with other boys, but wasn't interested.  Now she knew why. 
Only Bobby interested her.  She wore the ring he'd given her for Christmas
on the ring finger of her left hand.  To her, it was her wedding ring.

   She knew, of course, that it was only a fantasy.  She couldn't marry
Bobby, and have his babies, and live with him happily ever after.  She also
knew that there were other women who lay under him, thrusting up against
him like she did, and that some of those women DID have his babies.

   Still, when they had time to make love like this, for hours, it was no
fantasy.  This was what she looked forward to and craved.  She loved his
smell, his touch, his kisses, and every single way he'd ever made love to
her.  They'd even planned making love in ways that they couldn't now, but
could next summer.  Like in the swing that hung from the oak tree in the
back yard.  He would sit on the seat, and she would straddle him, and then
they would begin to swing, until he spurted in her.

   She couldn't have him at night, though, and she was sad about that.  Her
favorite thing in the whole world was sleeping with him.  She'd done that
twice, once being caught by their mother, though, when she had been caught,
he hadn't actually had sex with her yet.  That's when she had started
taking the birth control pills that were so hard to remember to take.  They
were the only drugs, for the most part, that she'd ever taken at all.

   "Ohhhh Flo, honey, you have to remember," he groaned.

   She thrust up again, feeling his prick swell, and accepted his hot gift
with glee.

   "I like this part best of all," she gasped.

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

   Mirriam had stayed at Prudence's house.  They both knew Ted would be
back.  She had discussed her fears with Prudence, who said that, within
reason, Ted should just be told the truth.  He was obviously very
open-minded, but there were some things he might not accept, so the truth
was going to be regulated.  She called home, to tell Flo that she'd be
later than usual.  The phone rang a long time, and then was answered by
Flo.

   "You're panting," said her mother.

   "I had to run to get the phone," said Flo.

   "Oh, OK.  I'm going to be later than usual."

   "OK, I'll tell the girls, when they get home.  Bye!"

   The phone went dead.  Mirriam stared at it, wondering what was going on,
and then was distracted by seeing Ted, walking up the sidewalk to the
house.

   He knocked, as he always did, in case someone was watching.  There
wasn't much anybody could say about a single man visiting a single woman,
but there was no sense making it obvious that he could just walk right in
any time he felt like it.  When he visited Mirriam's house, there were no
such restrictions.  He was like an uncle to the girls, now, and had been to
dinner there many times.

   Mirriam opened the door.  When he stepped in, with his mouth already
open to ask, she jerked him in, surprising him enough that he didn't say
anything.  Then, she was in his arms, and he couldn't talk because she was
kissing him.

   "I love you," she said, when she finally pulled back.

   "I know that," he said softly.  "I'm very lucky in that way."

   "It's possible that this isn't your baby," she said, just getting it out
there.

   "Whose is it?" he couldn't help but ask.  "I've been thinking about it
all afternoon.  You don't go out with other men.  I'm not claiming you, or
anything like that, but I can't imagine who it could be."

   "It's the same man who fathered Kyle and Katherine," she said, looking
into his eyes.

   All Ted knew about that man was that Prudence loved him dearly, and said
he was very special.  He had to be special, if he'd knocked up Mirriam too.

   "But it could be yours," she said.  "In fact, it's much more likely that
it's yours."

   "This has to be the goofiest relationship I could even dream of," he
sighed.  He held on to her, though.  "How likely?" he asked.

   "I've ...  there have been four or five times ...  with him," she said.

   "Four or five?!" he yipped.  "That's nothing!  Oooo I hope it's mine!"
he said excitedly.

   Mirriam almost laughed.  What was it with these men that so excited them
when they thought they had impregnated a woman?  What was it that drove
them to want that so badly?  She had to settle this now, though.  She had
to know where she stood.

   "You're not mad?" she asked.

   "Are you kidding?" he gasped, pulling her into another kiss.  "That's
probably my baby in there!" He started kissing his way down her front, and
stopped, kissing all over her stomach.

   "Hi in there, little baby," he said.  "I'm Ted.  I might be your Daddy.
Oooo I can't wait to hold you and see you and ...  and you have the most
beautiful Mommy in the whole wide world.  You're a very lucky baby." He
started kissing her belly again, and she laughed and pushed him away.

   "Oh no you don't," he said, standing up.  "You had me worried to death
all day that I was going to lose you so some other man." He stopped and
blinked.  "I'm not ...  am I?"

   "No," she smiled.  "You're not."

   "Then you owe me makeup sex!" he crowed.

   "We didn't have a fight," she said, smiling.  She felt so good with this
man.  He was such a delight.

   "You yelled at me," he said.  "My feelings were hurt."

   "When did I yell at you?" she said, folding her arms across her chest.

   "You said we'd discuss this later," he said.  "You were mean."

   She laughed.  "You're hopeless!"

   "No I'm not," he said.  "You owe me makeup sex, and you can't back out!"

   She looked at him through lowered eyelashes, and her hand went to her
bun, to release it, and let it tumble down.  She knew he loved her long
hair.  Her voice was smoky when she spoke.

   "Who said I was trying to back out?"

   Chapter Three

   Bobby finished a plumbing job for the Ackermans, and then stopped at
Jill's house.  Today was her day, on the shedule, so he went when she'd be
there.  He was both surprised and pleased to see a sign in the window.  It
said: "BROWN PHOTOGRAPHY" in big block letters.  Under that it said to call
for an appointment.
He and Christy had spent many hours getting the darkroom going, and then
building a studio in what had been the parlor of the old house she lived in
with Jill.  Jill was learning the photography business too, little by
little, in the sense that she was interested in how it worked, and spent
time in the darkroom with Christy.  The first photographs she had ever seen
developed were some that Bobby and Christy had taken at an old abandoned
farmhouse.  They were primarily nude shots, of each of them.  Jill, who had
never seen Christy nude, at the time, commented on how she could understand
how Bobby might be attracted to her.  She had practically salivated over
the ones of Bobby, and asked if she could have one for herself.  She got
more than one, but was required to develop them herself.  She was very
proud of the results, which were framed, and hanging in her bedroom, on all

four walls.

   Bobby had laughed, the first time he went in there.

   "I like looking at you," Jill had said, dropping her clothes on the
floor.  They had made very sweet love indeed, that day.

   She met him at the door, as usual, wearing only panties.  Jill was as
hot-blooded a woman as Bobby had ever met, and had been since she let him
into her sexual life.  He was of the opinion that being pregnant had
increased her desires, if anything.

   He took her through two orgasms with his mouth, and then propped her
butt up high with pillows, until he could enter her while standing on his
knees.  Her belly was getting too big for him to lie fully on her, and she
liked it this way because his prick slid along the front of her vaginal
canal, which seemed to be particularly sensitive.

   She was insatiable, today, so he kept from cumming, so she could have
orgasms until she was too tired to have any more.  It wasn't until she was
on top, riding him languidly, between orgasms, that she told him about
Janet.

   "There were some women at the diner today," she said, rocking slowly. 
"We talked about you."

   "Me?" he asked.  He cupped her breasts, which were fuller now than when
he'd met her.  He assumed it was being pregnant that had made them swell a
bit.

   "Well, not by name," she said, her hips taking up a rhythm.

   "Tell me about it," he said.

   "They're best friends or something.  I always see them together. 
Anyway, one of them is divorced."

   She didn't say anything more, so Bobby prodded.  "OK."

   "She wanted to know about our baby," said Jill.  "You know, like who the
father was and all that."

   "And you told her?"

   "Of course not, silly," she said, slapping his chest lightly.  "But then
she wanted to know how I found you."

   "So you told her?" he said.

   "No!  Will you be quiet?  I'm telling this story."

   "You're taking your sweet time about it," he said, smiling.

   "I'm not in a hurry here," she said, rocking faster.

   "It feels like you're starting to get in a hurry," he said, grinning.

   "Hush!" she said.  "Ohhh you feel so good.  I can't think when we're
doing this!"

   He pulled her down to suck at her distended nipples, and her hips jerked
spasmodically.

   "Ohhh yeah," she moaned.  "Just like that ...  Ohhhhhh ...  Ohhhhhh, I
love you so much!"

   She collapsed on his chest, her hips still twitching, and her pussy
rippling as she kissed him.

   He let her catch her breath, while he put his forearms up, pushing so
that her shoulders would hold her weight, instead of her belly.  Her head
hung, and her hair got in his face.  Finally she sat back up, but didn't
move.  She had done this before ...  just sitting, impaled.  He eventually
went soft, if she didn't move, but that was no problem.  She knew how to
get him hard again, and it didn't take long.

   "So, they wanted to know how you found me," he prompted.

   "Yes.  I think she's lonely.  I've never seen her with a man before,
though.  I heard them talking about how hard it is to find a good man."

   "And you thought of me," he said, grinning.

   "Well ...  you ARE pretty decent ...  for a man." Her voice made the
word "man" sound like it was a disease.

   "I'm not looking for a wife," he said.

   "I don't think that's her aim," said Jill.  "She's been divorced twice,
and when I told her you tried to do the right thing, and I wouldn't let
you, she seemed to like that idea.  I don't think she wants a husband. 
She's just lonely, and probably horny."

   "Like you?" He grinned.

   "Nobody's as horny as me," she growled.

   Then she started rocking again.

   He flipped her over, and took her from behind, twisting and pinching her
clit with his fingers as he slammed into her.  She liked it rough,
sometimes, just like Christy liked it rough, sometimes, and she reveled in
it now as he dominated her.

   "If you weren't pregnant already," he growled.  "I'd be making you
pregnant right now!" He pushed hard, and she pushed hard, and he squirted
her full of spunk.

   They cuddled then, while she idly smeared some of his semen over her
clit, and rubbed it gently.

   "So what does this have to do with me?" he asked.

   "She asked if you had an opening in your schedule." She giggled.

   "Schedule?"

   "I told her it wasn't like that," she said, smiling.

   "I may have to START a schedule," he said darkly, "if you start giving
me away."

   "Ohhhh no, mister.  I'm not giving you away.  A little piece of you is
mine, and I'm not giving that up."

   "I can barely take care of you and Christy and ..." He stopped.

   "The rest of your harem?" she teased.

   "It's not a harem," he said.

   "If you make them feel like you make me feel, it might as well be," she
sighed.

   "I'm glad you're not jealous," he said, quietly.

   "I love you," she said.  "And I know that you love me.  That's enough
for me." She snuggled.  "And a lot of this, of course."

   "I don't know," he said, with doubt in his voice.

   "Why don't I just tell her to hire you to fix something," said Jill. 
"Then you can meet her, and decide for yourself.  I told her there were no
guarantees."

   "I guess I could do that," he said.  "What's her name again?"

   "Janet," said Jill.  "Janet Griswold."

   "OK, give her my number," he said.

   "Don't you want to know what she looks like?" asked Jill, her voice
catty.

   "That's not the point," said Bobby.  "I decided to sleep with you ... 
didn't I?"

   She squealed her false outrage, and climbed up on him, trying to tickle
him.  She got the worst of the deal though.  Sisters had tried to tickle
Bobby all his life, and he could control that.

   Jill didn't have the same talent.

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

   Jill looked up when the door opened.  They were together again!  They
must be very good friends indeed.  It was morning, so she went ahead and
put cinnamon rolls on plates, hooked two cups on her fingers, and carried
the coffee pot with her.  She set the pot down, distributed the plates, and
then put the cups down and filled them.

   "So ..." Janet looked eager.

   Jill reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a piece of paper.  She
held it up, out of reach, and moved it across her body to her shoulder. 
Janet's eyes followed it like it was something good to eat and she was
starving.

   "What's broken, at your house?" asked Jill.

   "What?" Janet looked confused.

   "Everybody has something at home that's broken, or doesn't work right.
Dripping faucet?  Squeaky door?  What's broken at your house?"

   Janet looked blank, but then said: "The drain under my sink drips?" That
was true.  She kept a plastic bucket under the sink, and had to empty it
every once in a while.

   "Perfect!" said Jill, handing her the paper.  "This is the name of my
handyman.  He's very good at fixing things like that." She smiled
brilliantly.  "If you need anything else, just wave."

   She turned around and left.

   "But what about ..." Rhonda was staring after the waitress.  She looked
back at Janet.  "What's going on?" she complained.

   Janet was staring at the paper.  She knew this man.  She knew his
mother, actually.  His mother was a war baby mother.  Janet had sat with
them at town celebrations before.  As a divorced woman, she was welcome in
that group.  She could think of several of his sisters, but had only a
vague impression of his looks.  She thought of him as being very young,
though.

   "Janet?" complained Rhonda.  "What about the man?"

   "This IS the man," said Janet, folding the paper and putting it in her
purse.

   "But that's her HANDYman," said Rhonda.  She blinked.  "Oh!" she said.
"But that's MY man, Janet!"

   "I know that, honey," said Janet.  "You just let me handle everything.
We're going to get you taken care of.  Now, eat your roll, and drink your
coffee.  We have things to do!"

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

   This was the fifth time Constance had gone on a date with Tim Appleton.
She liked him.  He was funny, and kind, and very patient too, she
suspected. He wasn't the first boy she'd gone out with, but he was the
first boy who had asked her out more than twice.  He'd made it very plain
that he'd like to kiss her, when he walked her to her door too, but she
hadn't been able to let him do that.  She was too nervous about it.

   It was early February, and he had already asked her to the Valentines
dance at school.  Tonight, they had gone to the movie house in town, and
watched "Diamonds Are Forever", which had been released last year, but had
only come to Granger in January.  It was still running, and people were
going to watch it two and three times.  It had been exciting, and colorful,
and it made her glad that he wanted to hold her hand.

   She knew about sex.  She had seen Bobby having sex with her mother.  She
had seen him almost having sex with Bev one night too, as she stood with
two of his other sisters in the same room, her eyes wide.  She had been
kissed by Bobby, several times, and had felt the pressure inside her to do
things with him.  Sexy things.

   He had told her she wasn't ready, though, and the relief had been
palpable.  She loved kissing him, though, and it brought those feelings
back.  She was afraid that, if she let Tim kiss her, she'd want to do the
same things with him.

   But this was their fifth date.  She hadn't let him do more than hold her
hand, and she wasn't so stupid as to think that, if she kept putting him
off, he wouldn't lose interest.

   She felt a whole flock of butterflies in her stomach, as she stopped and
turned to him, standing in front of her door.

   "I had a really good time tonight," said Tim.

   His eyes looked so big!  So brown!  So deep!

   "Me too," she whispered.

   "I can't wait until the dance," he said.

   "Me neither," she sighed.

   "I sure wish I could kiss you," he said.

   "OK," she said.

   It was wonderful, she thought, as she felt his soft lips on hers.  It
wasn't all zingy, like Bobby's lips made her feel, but it was still
wonderful, and she decided that he could kiss her again, before this kiss
was even done.  Her arms seemed to go up, all by themselves, and they
draped around his neck.  It seemed to go on for ten minutes, and she loved
every second of it.

   "Wow!" he sighed, pulling back.  "That was awesome!"

   "Thank you," she said, feeling dizzy.  "I'd better go in now."

   "OK," he breathed.

   Then his lips descended on hers again, and it happened all over again.

   Six kisses later, she pushed him away, panting.

   "I REALLY have to go in now," she panted.

   "OK," he said, grinning.  "Man!  I can't WAIT until the dance!"

   She felt like she was walking on air, as she went in.

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

   Bobby picked up the phone only because he happened to be standing by it
when it rang.  Usually, there was a stampede of girls.  With five teenage
girls in the house, not counting Flo, all of whom had friends or boys
calling them, competition to get to the phone before a sister could
embarrass whoever the call was for was intense.

   "Daltons," said Bobby.

   "Um ...  Mister Dalton?" came a female voice.

   "This is Bobby Dalton," said Bobby.

   "Hi." There was a long pause.

   "Hi," he said back.  He grinned.  This must be the woman Jill had told
him about.  She sounded nervous already.

   "Uh ...  this is Rhonda Wilson.  I live on Washington.  I got your
number from Jill, at the Wagon Wheel."

   It was the wrong name, but maybe she was giving his name out for other
reasons too.

   "How can I help you?" he asked.

   "I have an outlet that doesn't work," she said.  "Do you do that kind of
thing?"

   "If it's just an outlet I can do it," he said.  "I don't do anything
more complicated.  You'd need an electrician for that."

   "Oh!  No ...  this is just an outlet.  I haven't used it for years.  If
you're too busy that's fine."

   She sounded like she was in a panic.

   "No, that's fine," he said.  "I can do that.  How about tomorrow?"

   "Tomorrow?" Now she sounded worried.  "I guess that would be OK."

   "Is there a better day?" he asked.

   "My husband is a day sleeper," she said.  "This wouldn't make too much
noise, would it?"

   "No noise at all," he said.

   "Oh!  OK." She sounded petrified.  "Tomorrow morning?  Maybe around
ten?"

   "Ten is fine," he said.  "Address?"

   "Oh!  Of course!  How silly of me!" She sounded like she was about to
cry.  She stammered out a number, and the line went dead.

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

   At ten in the morning, the next day, Bobby parked in front of the
address he had been given and trod through the un-shoveled snow on the
walk. His knock was answered by a woman who, quite frankly, looked him up
and down.  He had only a small tool bag in his hand.  The job he was there
to do might take fifteen minutes.  To be truthful, he was checking her out,
as much as she was checking him out.  She was nice looking, with honey
blond hair and a good figure.

   "Rhonda?" he said.

   "No, I'm Janet," said the woman.  "You must be the Dalton boy."

   "Yes, Ma'am," he said.

   She frowned, and he remembered that women under about fifty didn't like
being called "Ma'am" in some cases.  It made them feel old.

   "You're older than I imagined," she said.

   "Well," he said patiently.  "I was born, and then, after that, I had
birthdays.  I couldn't really do anything about it."

   He got a smile, and she stepped back.

   "Rhonda's in the kitchen," she said.

   Since he didn't know where the kitchen was, he waited, to follow her. 
She had nice hips encased in jeans that weren't tight, but weren't loose
either.  Her butt looked round and firm.

   Rhonda turned out to be a housewife.  It wasn't fair, but Bobby
classified women based on their overall look.  Janet didn't look like a
housewife.  She looked like a woman who was trying very hard to retain her
youth.  The way she styled her hair, and the kind and amount of makeup she
wore, were all designed to make her look younger than she really was.  He
thought that was sad, in a way, because most of those women would look good
any way they were, at least to a man who was willing to look past the skin.
Once you liked a woman, it didn't matter how she looked.  She looked good,
because you liked her.

   Rhonda, though, looked like a housewife.  She had that little extra
flesh about her, that said she didn't exercise enough, and that drab hair
that said she didn't take very good care of it.  Her face was pale, from
not getting out in the sun, and her eyes had that hopeless look in them
that said she knew she was stuck in her marriage, which wasn't going any
place, and never would.  She looked tired.

   This one looked nervous.o She had been nervous on the phone too.  He
wondered what she was nervous about.  According to Jill, it was Janet who
was interested in his ...  talents.  Apparently, Janet had her friend make
the call.  There were any number of reasons she might have done that.  She
might not want him to know where she lived.  She might have been afraid
that someone on the other end of the phone would recognize her name.  She
might not have a phone, for that matter.

   "Hi," he said, putting on a smile.  "You have an electrical problem."

   She blinked at him, and her eyes darted all over his body, but not in
the same way Janet's had.  Janet had appraised him.  Rhonda seemed to be
unable to decide where to look, or how long to look there.

   "Rhonda's a little shy," said Janet, who had sat down and picked up a
cup of coffee.

   "Well, you don't need to be nervous," he said.  "Just show me the fuse
box, and the plug that doesn't work, and I'll see what I can do."

   Rhonda moved then, going to the back, where there was a porch like room
that had a water heater in it.  To one side, and up a little, was the
electrical panel.  Then she took him to the living room, and pointed at an
outlet.

   He knelt down and pulled out an outlet tester, pushing the leads into
the holes.  The light didn't light up.  It didn't for the other half of the
outlet either.  He walked across the room and turned on a lamp that was
plugged into the wall there, and then turned to Rhonda.

   "I'm going to go pull the fuse for this circuit.  When that lamp goes
off, yell to me, OK?"

   She nodded, and he left her there.  He had to go by Janet, who had been
watching them.  He was lucky that the box had been updated, and had
breakers in it, instead of fuses.  They were labeled too.  He flipped a
switch.

   "Hey!" came a female voice.

   He went back, pulled the plate, and found that one of the leads had come
loose.  It had arced a little bit, but he cleaned it off with his knife and
bent it a bit so that, when he pushed it back under the screw there would
be better contact.  He turned that screw tight, and gave each of the others
a bump too, just to make sure.  Sometimes, as things heated and cooled,
which caused expansion and contraction, they came loose.

   He was pretty sure that was it, so he remounted the outlet in the box,
but left the cover off, just in case.  When he flipped the breaker on, and
returned, he unplugged the lamp that was on, and plugged it into the outlet
he'd just fixed.  The light came on, and he unplugged the lamp again.  He
put the cover back on, stood up, turned around, and said: "All done."

   "That's it?" Rhonda had said her first words.

   "It was just a loose wire," he said.

   "That's all?" she asked.  "You've only been here ten minutes!"

   "Sometimes things go quickly," he said.  "I still have to charge you for
a whole hour, so if there's anything else that needs fixing, you've got
fifty minutes left."

   Rhonda blinked.  She did that a lot.  "The towel bar!" she blurted.  "In
the kitchen.  It's been loose for years."

   She took him there.  There were two screws in the bar, one of which had
pulled completely out, or been stripped when it was installed.  The other
was loose.  He went to the car and got two screws that were slightly longer
and slightly larger in diameter.  He put them in the old holes, and the
towel bar was solid again.  He looked at his watch.

   "Forty-five minutes left," he said, grinning.

   Rhonda became frantic, running here and there, as she remembered more
little things that were loose, or damaged.  Some he couldn't fix without
parts, and he told her so.  Three other things got tightened up, or
adjusted.

   "You still have ten minutes," he said, smiling.

   "But I don't have anything else you can fix right now," said Rhonda. 
The corners of her lips turned up, just a little.

   "Tell you what," he said.  "If you have me fix those things I couldn't
do today, I'll give you ten minutes credit when I take care of them."

   "Oh!" said Rhonda.  "All right.  How much do I owe you?"

   "Five dollars," he said.

   "Five dollars!" she gasped.  "But you fixed all those things!"

   "I'm only charging you for an hour," he said.  "That's five dollars."

   "That doesn't seem like enough," she said.  "I mean you fixed electrical
things.  When I called the electrician, he said it would be twenty dollars
just to come to the house!"

   "I don't charge that much," said Bobby.

   "I'll get my purse," said Rhonda, and left the room.

   "I wish I made five dollars an hour," said Janet, who had sat and
watched the whole thing.

   Bobby grinned at her.  "So far, today, five dollars is all I've made. 
Sometimes, you're ahead to get less per hour, if you get more hours."

   "How would you like to make ten more dollars?" asked Janet.

   "Sure," he said.  "You have things needing fixed too?"

   "No," said Janet.  "Jill mentioned that you have ...  um ...  other
talents."

   He had wondered when the subject would be broached and, for that matter
how it would be broached.

   "You want to ...  hire me?  He asked.  "For my ...  other talents?"

   "I want to hire you to take care of her," said Janet.  "She's in a tough
spot."

   "She's married," said Bobby.

   "Yeah, but that won't be a problem," said Janet.  "Actually her marriage
IS the problem."

   Rhonda came back into the room, with a five dollar bill in her hand, and
an actual smile on her face.

   "Well that was certainly worth five dollars to me," she said.  "Thank
you very much!"

   "You're more than welcome."

   When he didn't move, or leave, Rhonda looked at him curiously.

   "Would you like some coffee?" she asked.

   "That would be nice," he said.

   "I was just talking to Bobby ..." she turned to him.  "Can I call you
Bobby?" He nodded and smiled.  "I was just talking to him about the other
reason we wanted to hire him."

   Rhonda stiffened.

   "Oh, Janet, you didn't!"

   "Of course I did, honey.  I told you I'd work it all out."

   "Oooooo I'm SO embarrassed," moaned the woman at the counter.  She
spilled coffee, and wiped it up.

   Janet turned to Bobby.

   "Anyway, as I was saying ..."

   "Tell you what," said Bobby, interrupting her.  "You say Rhonda here is
the ...  customer?"

   Janet looked at him, and there was something like fear in her eyes. 
"Yes," she said, almost carefully.

   "Well then," he said, smiling.  "Why don't Rhonda and I spend a little
time talking, and get to know each other.  It might be a little awkward,
though, if you stayed, Janet.  You wouldn't mind leaving us alone, would
you?"

   Janet looked like she didn't know what to do, and couldn't make up her
mind anyway.

   "Unless you like to watch," said Bobby, grinning widely.  "Some people
like to watch, you know.  And I'm fine with that!  I have to charge a
little more, of course, but if you want to watch, that's fine with me."

   "NO!" gasped Janet, easily able now to make up her mind about what to
do. She wanted to leave, and she wanted to leave quickly.  She tried to
salvage her dignity, though.  "No, I don't particularly like to watch, and
of course you want to be alone, so I'll just mosey on home.  Rhonda, dear?
Be sure to give me a call when you're ...  um finished with Bobby here.  We
have a lunch date, remember?"

   Rhonda's head was down, and her shoulders were stiff.

   "I'll be right back," he said softly to her.  "Don't worry."

   He turned to Janet, who was standing and moving.  "I'll just walk Janet
out, and then I'll be back.  You'll have a real good time, I promise!"

   Janet almost ran from him, to the front door.  She paused only long
enough to face him.  He could tell it took all her courage to do it too.

   "She's my best friend," she said.  "I love her, and she needs this. 
Don't you DARE hurt her, or make her feel bad.  Do you hear me?"

   "Yes, Ma'am." This time, he used the word intentionally.

   Chapter Four

   Rhonda didn't know what to do.  She was mortified, and embarrassed.  She
thought about just leaving, but it was her house, and she didn't have
anywhere else to go.  She looked around.  He was gone, but he was coming
back.  He'd said he would be right back.  She had no idea what he'd do
then, but she was quite sure it would embarrass her.  Why had he told her
not to worry and then bragged about what a great time she'd have when he
got back?  She didn't understand men, or how to act around them.  She
wanted to cry, but she was determined not to cry in front of him.

   Suddenly he was back.  She looked at him fearfully, and backed against
the counter.  He was so tall, and he looked strong as an ox.  She watched,
warily as he sat down in the chair Janet had been sitting in.

   "How about that coffee now?" he asked.

   "Coffee?" she said softly.

   "Yeah," he said, smiling.  "It's that stuff you spilled on the counter a
little while ago."

   "You want coffee?" she asked, confused.  Wasn't he supposed to sweep her
off her feet and bury her in hot kisses or something like that?

   "Well, I assume you don't agree with your friend, about how you need to
be loved up and kissed, and all that stuff," he said.  "You didn't look too
comfortable when she was talking about it." He smiled.  "I thought maybe we
could have some coffee and talk, instead."

   "You want to talk to me?" she asked.

   "Why not?" he asked.  "You're a nice looking woman.  It turns out you
can actually talk, and I really like the sound of your voice - I've always
been partial to altos - and I'm sure you have a story or two to tell, and I
do too.  Janet is expecting me to make mad passionate love to you for an
hour or so, so we have some time to kill.  Can you think of anything better
to do?"

   Rhonda was beginning to realize that she was in no danger.  He actually
wanted to talk to her!  She couldn't remember the last time a man had said
he wanted to sit and talk with her.  Her hands were steady as she turned,
and poured his coffee.  She took it in one hand, and the pot in the other,
and warmed up her own cup, which was already on the table.

   She sat down, somewhat tentatively.

   "So," he said, reaching for his cup and taking a sip.  "Good coffee!" he
said.  "So, do you want to tell the first story, or do you want me to?"

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

   "Sure you do," he said.  "I'll tell one first.  Maybe that will remind
you of one, OK?"

   "OK," she said, feeling more relaxed.  He wasn't anything like she'd
thought he was going to be.  He seemed like a nice young man.

   He told her a story about how he had played a prank on his eldest
sister, Mary.  He described how his sisters got into the habit of taking
their showers in a specific order.  One night, while Flo was drying off,
and before Mary started taking her shower, he shut the water off.  Then he
unscrewed the water pipe that came up out of the water heater and went to
the various places in the house that used hot water.  He'd poured two
packages of Rit dye down into the pipe, and then hooked everything up
again. When Mary went into the shower, she was standing under it when the
dye hit the shower head, and it stained her whole body bright lobster red.
She'd had red skin and bright red hair for a week afterwards.  She was
fifteen at the time.  By the time he was finished, Rhonda was laughing out
loud, and tears were rolling down her cheeks.  She told him how terrible
that was, and how he'd probably scarred the poor girl for life, but laughed
anyway.

   "Your turn," he said.

   "I can't compete with that," she sighed.  "The craziest thing I ever did
was hide all my father's pens and pencils, so he couldn't write a note to
my teacher telling her she could whip me if I misbehaved."

   Bobby grinned.  "You feel better now?"

   She looked at him.  "You chased her out of here on purpose ...  didn't
you?"

   He nodded.

   "Why?"

   "She was making you miserable," he said.

   "She's got a good heart, really.  She's just trying to help.  She thinks
I need ..." She stopped, then went on.  "She thinks I need to get laid. 
She thinks that will solve everything."

   "You're married," he said.  "Don't married women get laid pretty
regularly?"

   "Not me," she said.  "My husband ...  it's very personal."

   "All I can tell you is that I'll never tell anyone else anything you
tell me," he said.  "If you want to talk about it, you can, but you don't
have to.  I'll just listen."

   Rhonda wondered if this man might understand what was going on with
Herb, or at least help her understand.  He'd been nothing but sweet to her.
He'd chased away her best friend, but then, sometimes Janet needed to be
chased away.

   "You promise?" she asked.

   "I promise," he said.

   It was a catharsis, of sorts.  Somehow, even though he was a complete
stranger, she felt more comfortable telling him about it than she would
have if he were a friend.  She told him things she'd never think of
admitting to Janet.  When she was done she felt drained, but, somehow,
better.

   "You've stayed with him for twelve years?" was his only comment.

   "I didn't know what else to do," she said.  "I'm not pretty, like Janet.
He was the only man who had paid any attention to me, really.  I was stuck,
in a way.  Back then I didn't have any skills, to get a decent job with -
not one where I could support myself.  Even now I'm notoby special at work.
Anybody could do my job.  And he was so pitiful when he begged me not to
tell anyone, or divorce him.  It really would ruin his life if it ever got
out.  I guess I just got used to it."

   "And you haven't had sex for what?  Eleven and a half years?" His face
was unreadable.

   "Nope," she sighed.  "But I'm used to that too.  He was my first, and it
wasn't all that interesting, even before I knew ...  his tastes."

   Bobby appeared to think for a bit.

   "I have some opinions," he said.

   "What are they?" she asked.



   "Well, just remember ...  they're only my opinions.  In the first place,
you're prettier than you think you are.  It's just my opinion, but I think
you're quite pretty.  As for job skills, you probably have more than you
realize.  You've lived life, and managed a house and a budget.  You can
learn other things that will make you valuable enough to some employer to
pay you more than you get right now.  You don't have to be as dependent on
him as you have been.  I admire you for your loyalty, but I can't help
thinking that, for twelve years, he's gotten everything he wants and needs
...  the appearance of a normal life ...  affection ...  someone to keep
house for him ...  all that.  But you've gotten the short end of the stick.
You got none of the things you wanted.  As for the sex ...  it sounds to me
like you don't have the faintest idea of what that could be like.  You
might be used to what you have ...  or don't have ...  but I'm pretty sure
that if you ever got a taste of what you've been missing, you'd decide you
weren't going to go back to what you have right now."

   "I can't just divorce him," said Rhonda.  "It would ruin him."

   "I didn't say anything about divorce," said Bobby.  "All I said was that
things need to be evened up some.  I think you should get a little part
time job somewhere, just to get a little experience.  And, I hate to admit
it, but I agree with Janet.  I think you ought to get laid."

   "We talked about that," said Rhonda.  "Everybody in this town knows
everybody else.  As soon as I go into the Ten Spot, or someplace like that,
to try to meet a man, it will be all over town."

   "I wouldn't recommend that," said Bobby.

   "Then what should I do?" she asked.

   "Well," said Bobby.  "There's always me."

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

   Janet had been on pins and needles ever since she left Rhonda's.  She
felt terrible about leaving the poor woman alone with that man, but, when
he suggested she watch, she felt such panic that she had to flee.  Watch?
Only perverts watched!  Everybody knew that.  Her second husband had wanted
to let one of his friends watch.  That was part of why she got such a good
settlement in the divorce.  Her lawyer had loved that.

   She checked her watch for perhaps the fiftieth time.  She hoped that her
comment about having a lunch date had helped get him out of there in a
reasonable amount of time.  How long did men like this take?  She had no
idea.  She looked at the phone, but it just sat there.  She looked at her
watch again.

   She had to pee, and she had just lowered her jeans and panties to her
ankles when the phone rang shrilly.  She tripped twice, sprawling on the
floor, as she tried to pull things backup and run at the same time.

   "HELLO!" she shouted into the phone.

   "You don't have to yell," came Rhonda's soft voice.

   "ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?" panted Janet.

   "Do I need to call back when you've calmed down?" asked her friend.

   "NO!  I mean no, you don't," said Janet, forcing her voice to a normal
level.  "I was simply concerned about you, that's all.  I mean we really
don't know much about that man at all."

   "It's kind of late to be thinking of that," said Rhonda.

   "Did he ...  did you ...?"

   "Where are we going to eat lunch?" she asked, not answering the
question.

   "Do you feel up to going out?" asked Janet.

   "I feel wonderful," said Rhonda.

   "You do?" Janet's voice went up an octave.

   "I do," said Rhonda quietly.  "Why don't we go to the Wagon Wheel?  I'd
like to thank Jill."

   "You would?" asked Janet, weakly.

   "I would," said Rhonda softly.  "Meet me there in ...  an hour?  I need
to clean up.  I'm a mess."

   "A mess," sighed Janet.

   "I'll see you there," said Rhonda, and hung up.

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

   Rhonda turned to Bobby, who was clapping his hands.

   "That, my dear, was a masterful job of acting.  I am impressed."

   She smiled.  "Well, you're a good coach.  That was mean, though."

   "Why?" he asked.  "She thinks I made mad passionate love to you.  You're
not quite ready for that, just yet, but we've had some very solid
negotiations on that point, and I feel that we are moving forward nicely.
But if she THINKS it happened, then maybe she'll quit badgering you, and
you can go at your own speed."

   "It feels so odd to ...  negotiate, about something like that," she
said. "You're not quite normal ...  as a man, I mean, are you?"

   "I wouldn't know," he said airily.  "Unlike your husband, I am not into
men, so I don't know if I'm normal or not."

   "Will you really ...  make love to me, some day?" she asked.

   "I'm ready this instant," he said, grinning.  "But I'm patient too. 
However, we have more to do to get you ready for your next performance. 
You need to be convincing when you meet her for lunch."

   "How am I going to do that?  She'll want to know all about it, and we
didn't even do anything."

   "Never fear," he said.  "I have a plan."

   He stood, and then had her stand.

   "Now, the key to acting is to have a germ of the truth be in everything
you say."

   He suddenly put his hands on her waist and pulled her to him.  She
squeaked in dismay, until she realized he had moved into a standard dancing
position.  He hummed a tune, and turned her in a circle.

   "Now," he said, backing up, "you can convince her that we danced,
because, technically, we DID dance, right?"

   She grinned and nodded.

   "Now," he said.  "Play patty cake with me."

   "What?" She looked confused.

   "Do what I say, woman!" he ordered.

   They played patty cake, and then he had her bump elbows with him.  He
barked like a dog, and had her try to sound like a goat.  He pulled her to
the bathroom, and they stepped into the shower together, and then back out.
He turned on the water, and made her put her hand out.  Then, he put his
hand on hers, getting both wet.

   "What is this all about?" she asked.

   "Patience," he said.  "All will be made clear.  We don't have time for
me to explain every single thing, as it's done."

   He took her to the bedroom, and, told her he wanted her to help him move
the bed a foot to one side.

   "We have to be careful," she said.  "I don't want to wake Herb up."

   "He's here?" asked Bobby in disbelief.

   "I forgot to tell you.  He works nights, and sleeps in the day.  He has
a soundproof room."

   Bobby was less jubilant, and more careful about how they moved the bed.
He wrapped things up by asking for some of her clothing, and then threw it
all over the room.

   Back in the kitchen, he coached her on the story.

   "You can truthfully tell her we did all kinds of strange and exotic
things.  That's the patty cake and elbow bumping and all that.  Then you
can tell her we took a shower together.  We were, after all, in the shower
together, and we both got wet, did we not?  Next you can tell her I threw
your clothing all over the bedroom, and that you had to warn me not to wake
Herb up.  Then you can tell her that I was so passionate that the bed moved
a full foot.  You were scared that Herb would wake up, it moved so much. 
Am I wrong in any of this?"

   Rhonda was almost laughing now.  "No, you're absolutely right.  I can
say all those things, and look her dead in the eye."

   "There's only one thing left," he said.  "That's the kiss.  You have to
be able to describe a kiss."

   "But you haven't kissed me," she laughed.  "How are we going to do
that?"

   "I guess I'll just have to kiss you," he said, pulling her to him
gently.

   She looked up at him with wide eyes that watched as his face got closer
and closer to hers.  Then her eyes went closed, and his lips touched hers.
His arms pulled her tightly against him, and she knew she was going to fall
down just as soon as he let go of her.  His tongue was suddenly in her
mouth, something Herb had never done and, rather than finding it
distasteful, like she thought she would, she decided that it was something
she would definitely want to learn how to do.  At thirty, she was mature
enough to realize what was happening to her, and was not completely
overwhelmed.  She was also intelligent enough to realize that, up to this
point in time, she had never really been kissed in her whole life.  When
she felt his hands sliding around, to caress the sides of her breasts, she
held her breath.

   Then, it was over, and he was stepping back, and she sank onto the
kitchen chair that was somehow right behind her.

   "I threw in the touching of the breasts, just so you could talk a little
bit about that too," he said, smiling.

   Chapter Five

   Janet waited nervously, again outside the Wagon Wheel, and again
clutching her coat around her, as her breath floated white from her mouth.
This time, though, her nervousness was a result of her consuming curiosity.
Rhonda had sounded ...  different.  Something had definitely happened and
Janet couldn't wait to find out what it was.  Again, she saw Rhonda park on
the street, and again, she yelled "Hurry up!  It's freezing!" as Rhonda
walked toward her.

   She didn't look any different.

   "Aren't you freezing?" complained Janet as her friend approached.

   "No," said Rhonda, looking pink.  "I feel warm all over."

   "Get inside!  I can't wait to hear about it." Janet opened the door, and
pushed Rhonda in.

   In the booth, Rhonda seemed to take forever to get her coat off, and
then the waitress was there.  It wasn't Jill.  It was another, younger
woman, with dark hair.  She asked what they wanted, and finally left.

   "Well?" Janet leaned forward, her eyes bright.

   "It's embarrassing," said Rhonda softly.  "I can't just tell you what
happened."

   "If you don't I'll have a stroke, right this minute!" moaned Janet. 
"Come on, we're best friends.  You can tell me."

   "It's just that it was so ...  intimate," sighed Rhonda.  By her
standards, that kiss, and those roaming hands HAD been incredibly intimate.
Up to that point, it had all turned into a game ...  a delightfully fun
game, where she was going to play a trick on her friend.  Then his lips,
and his hands, had announced that this was no game at all ...  that,
someday, incredibly intimate things WOULD be shared between the two.  When
he'd walked out the door, waving goodbye, Rhonda had barely been able to
stand.  Something in her had wanted to cry out to him to stop.  He wasn't
finished yet!  He couldn't leave then ...  not when the seed he had
planted, with those lips and those hands, had already sprouted and needed
tending.

   She'd managed a croaking "When will I see you again?"

   His grin had hit her right in the stomach.  "Whenever you call me," was
all he'd said.

   The first thing she'd done was scrabble frantically through the house,
trying to find the slip of paper with his phone number on it.  She couldn't
remember where she'd put it when Janet had made her call him the first
time. When she finally saw it, lying on the floor, next to the phone, she
almost cried with relief.

   "Don't just sit there!" moaned Janet, disrupting Rhonda's reflections.

   Rhonda took a deep breath.  He'd coached her on this part.  She could do
it.

   "He did the strangest things," she said, "He touched me all over.  He
threw my clothes all over my bedroom." She sighed, and her eyes went
unfocused as she remembered it again.  "He kissed me, and I couldn't make
my knees work."

   "Ohhhhh," sighed Janet, slumping a little.

   "We took a shower together," said Rhonda, feeling stronger.  She was
watching Janet, who seemed to be as strongly affected by this as she had
been herself.

   "Was he gentle?" asked Janet softly.

   "I couldn't believe how gentle he was," said Rhonda.  That part was the
truth.  "He made me feel so ...  I don't know ...  it was like he cared
about how I felt." She suddenly remembered more of her prepared
"testimony". "But he was strong too.  The bed moved, Janet!  I bet it moved
a whole foot!  I had to remind him that Herb was sleeping, and that we
couldn't wake him up!"

   "Ohhh shit, I'm so horny right now I'd do it with Petey!" Pete Gunderson
was a fifty-year-old bag boy at the IGA, who was tall and lanky, with
stringy hair.  A lot of people thought Pete wasn't quite all there.

   "I know how you feel," said Rhonda, suddenly realizing that that was
exactly what she was feeling ...  she was horny!  She hadn't felt that way
for almost as long as she could remember.

   "Didn't he satisfy you?" asked Janet, suddenly sober, and much too
interested in how Rhonda was feeling, as far as Rhonda was concerned.

   "No man has satisfied me more," said Rhonda carefully.  She was proud
that she'd thought that twisted truth up all by herself.

   "Is he ...  big?" asked Janet, leaning forward again.

   "Big?" Rhonda wasn't experienced enough to understand.

   "You know," said Janet.  "Down there ...  is he long?  Thick?"

   "Oh!" said Rhonda, blushing.  She didn't know what to say.  She decided
on the truth.  "I don't actually know.  I mean it all happened so fast, and
I was feeling so flustered.  What I remember most is when he touched my
breasts.  I was almost overwhelmed by it all!"

   Janet reached out and patted her hand.  "It's OK, honey," she said.  "I
know I'm being too nosey.  You don't have to tell me everything." She sat
back.  "Are you going to see him again?"

   "Ohhh yes," said Rhonda, telling the full and unvarnished truth, now. 
"I can't wait to see him again."

   "Oooo!" squealed Janet, feeling her pussy dampen.  "I'm SO happy for
you! I KNEW this would work out.  Things are going to be a lot better for
you now.  I just know it!"

   "I do too," said Rhonda, because it was the right thing to say.  Then,
with a jolt, she realized that she actually believed that.  From what
little she knew about Bobby Dalton, if he continued to be in her life, it
WOULD be better.

   They sipped coffee quietly for a few minutes.

   "Oh yes!" said Rhonda suddenly.  "I just remembered something."

   "What?" asked Janet, leaning forward again, all ears.

   "He wanted me to remind you that you owe him twenty dollars."

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

   The Valentines dance was a success, and a dismal failure, depending on
the perspective of the students attending.  For Tammy Wynn, it was a dismal
failure, because she got in a fight with her boyfriend, Rick, when she
caught him looking at other girls at the dance.  They broke up, as a
result, and she had to walk home.  But for others, like Bev Dalton and
Constance Harris, it was a glorious success.

   Bev danced every dance with Bill, their bodies pressed together so
tightly that a chaperone drifted over to remind them that they were in
public.  The chaperone was supposed to remind them that no close body
touching was allowed, but had been young once herself.

   Constance knew what a stiff prick felt like when it was pressed against
her stomach.  She'd felt Bobby's on several occasions, when he hugged her,
and twice when he'd kissed her.  When she felt Tim's erection pressing
against her, she looked up into his eyes.  She backed up, not because she
was offended, but because of the danger of the feelings that coursed
through her.

   "I'm really sorry," he whispered.  "I can't help it."

   "I forgive you," she whispered back.  His grin made her press against
him again, and they finished the dance.  They seemed to bump loins a lot.

   At the end of the dance, the two couples, who had doubled in Tim's car,
drove all the way to Wichita, just to get milk shakes.  Bill and Bev sat in
the back and necked the whole way, while Constance slid over to lean
against Tim.  She laid her hand on the inside of his right thigh, as they
talked and listened to the radio, to drown out the liquid sound of long,
wet kisses coming from the back seat.

   "I should have Bill drive on the way back," said Tim.

   "Why?" Constance teased.

   "I want to kiss you," he said softly.

   "You can kiss me when you take me home," she said.

   "Why can't I kiss you in the back seat?" he moaned.

   "Because I know what else you'll want to do in the back seat," she said.

   "I'm not like that," he said, defending himself.

   She shocked both herself and him, when her hand slid up his thigh, to
rest on the lump in his pants.

   "Yes you are," she said.  She slid her hand back down.

   "Ohhhh Connie," he moaned.

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

   They had taken Constance home first, and Bill and Bev waited in the car
while she and Tim kissed on the porch.  They had kissed in the car too,
because Tim's good night kiss seemed to be taking a very long time.

   Bill's hand strayed to her breast again, and she let him squeeze her for
a while.

   "You know I like that," she panted into his mouth.  "But it's
dangerous."

   "I'm dying here," he moaned.

   "I'm sorry," she said, not sorry at all.  When he was like this it made
her feel powerful and loved, all at the same time.

   "I can't stand this," he whined.  "You have to marry me."

   "I do?"

   In the past, they had beaten around the bush about the idea of getting
married.  It was things like "Have you ever thought about getting married?"
and "I see married people, and wonder what that would be like." He had
always maintained that, if he ever decided to ask "a girl", it wouldn't be
until very close to graduation.  She had played along, by saying that, if
"a boy" asked her to get married before she was sure she'd graduate, she'd
have to say "no".  This was the first time it was really out in the open.

   "I'll just die if I don't know that, some day, I'll get to touch you,"
he moaned.

   "I don't want you to die," she said, her hand going very close to his
throbbing penis.

   He sat back, looking at her in the dark.

   "Bev, will you marry me?"

   "Yes," she said, almost immediately.

   He didn't take his lips off hers, or his hand off her breast, until Tim
opened the door, and the interior light went on.

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

   Bobby was actually asleep when Bev came into his room.  She felt no
guilt about waking him up.

   "I need you bad, tonight," she whispered, kissing him awake.  "I have
news, and I need you really bad."

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

   Prudence was making breakfast when Constance shuffled into the kitchen.
The twins were, thankfully, still sleeping.

   "Did you have fun last night?" she asked her daughter.

   "I had too much fun," said Constance, yawning.

   "Too much fun?"

   Constance brightened, coming fully awake as if by magic.

   "Tim asked me to go steady with him!" she squealed.

   "Awwww, how sweet," said Prudence.

   "He kissed me too," said the girl.

   "Do I need to put you on birth control?" asked Prudence, joking.

   There was a long pause, long enough for Prudence to turn and look at
Constance, who seemed to be thinking seriously about that.

   "I think so," said Constance.

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

   Rhonda sat in front of her vanity, and looked into the mirror.  Her mind
was telling her that he would come.  Her eyes were telling her he would not
be interested.  At first, as she played the part of a woman, satisfied by
her extramarital lover, it had been fun.  Janet was obviously a little
jealous.  Maybe because of that, Rhonda admitted to herself that she'd gone
a bit overboard in her references to what Bobby had done to her.  She knew,
from what really HAD happened, that he was whimsical, and funny, and a bit
mischievous.  He had been very kind to her, recognizing her terror, and
letting her off the hook.  Janet had, after all, hired him to make love to
her best friend.  Her best friend had been immobilized with fear.  He could
have just taken her and collected his money.  He had not done so.

   That was part of the problem.  Janet had left them alone, and he really
could have just taken her.  She wouldn't have been able to stop him, either
physically, or emotionally.  He wouldn't even have had to use force.  True,
she would have bawled her eyes out, while it was happening ...  but he
could have done it.  The fact that he had not began to work against her as
days passed.  What if he hadn't, because he found her repulsive?

   Oh sure, he had said she was pretty, and paid her other compliments,
but, he was a gigolo of sorts ...  wasn't he?  He had professional skills
...  tricks of the trade ...  that he used on his "clients" ...  didn't he?

   But he hadn't taken her to bed.

   Now, as she looked in the mirror, she thought that, if she were him, she
wouldn't take her to bed either.  She looked at the extra twenty pounds she
carried.  She saw bits and pieces of it ...  under her chin ...  between
her breasts and her shoulders ...  on an abdomen that, if it were Janet's,
would be flat, but which, on her, was rounded.  She couldn't see her
thighs, but she knew there was some there too.

   Her hair looked limp and dull.  Her lips looked colorless.

   When she had called him, she'd still been high on the fun of it all. 
She had chosen February twenty-ninth, the extra day in this leap year, as
the day she would welcome him, to get more than a kiss she could still feel
resonating through her mind and a few strokes on the outsides of her
breasts.  She could still feel her hand in his, as they went into the
shower water, part of their game to fool Janet.  When she called him, and
asked him to come back, she'd been horny.

   Now, on the day she had looked forward to so much, just a couple of
weeks ago, she just felt hopeless.  She didn't know how to use makeup, to
put color in her pale face.  She'd tried lipstick, but it smudged past her
lips, and she'd wiped it off.

   She was startled by the bell, and she looked frantically at the clock.
He was early!  She was naked!  She snatched up here robe, and pulled it on,
belting it without thinking.  Her feet took her to the door, while her mind
screamed "DON'T ANSWER IT!"

   "Hi," he said.  He was smiling.

   Her stomach did flip flops, and she stared at him as he stepped forward,
making her back up.

   He took off his coat, and she stood there, unable to take it.  He tossed
it toward a chair.

   "You're nervous again," he said softly.

   She swallowed.  Why was her mouth so dry all of a sudden?

   "You look nice," he said.

   "No I don't." Her voice was almost a grunt.  She hadn't meant to say
that.  It had just come out.

   "I get to decide that," he said, still smiling.

   As she focused on his face, the image came to her suddenly of a face she
had seen a thousand times, when she was much younger.  It was a face in the
hundreds of comic books she'd stared at, as she dreamed of what life might
be like if she were one of the characters in it.  She'd always wanted to be
Lois ...  Lois Lane.  She felt mesmerized by his face, with the strong jaw
line, and the black hair, with the same curl on his forehead.  There were
no glasses, and his face wasn't Clark's.  It was the face of Clark's alter
ego.

   He reached for her hand.  He'd just come in from the cold, but his hand
felt like it was burning.

   As her eyes looked at that face, and her mind tried to reconcile itself
to the situation she was in, she chose the fantasy ...  because it was
familiar.  In the fantasy, she felt strong and capable.  In the fantasy,
Superman had just said she looked nice ...  and Superman never lied. 
Everybody knew that.

   Superman reached out and untied the knot of her robe.  Superman spread
the halves of it wide, and those dark eyes slid down her body.

   "You look very nice," said her hero.

   Oddly, it was when Superman picked her up in his arms, bending to scoop
her legs out from under her that the fantasy crashed.  She felt herself
being lifted as if she weighed nothing at all, and something slapped the
face of her mind and said "Not even Superman could lift you, you cow!"

   Suddenly Bobby Dalton's face was right in front of hers.  She felt the
tears well up, and her vision went blurry.

   "It's all right," he said, his breath in her face.  His breath smelled
like peanut butter, for some reason.  "It will be all right."

   How he thought it would all be all right escaped her.  He was carrying
her to her bedroom, where there was a bed.  She was naked.  She looked down
to see her robe framing her naked front.  That little roll on her belly had
bunched up as her butt sagged in his arms.  Any minute he'd put her on the
bed, pull the covers over her, kiss her on the forehead, and say "Get some
sleep.  You'll feel better."

   Her expectations were met when he lowered her to the bed, and pulled his
arms out from under her back and knees.  She felt the tightness in her
chest that meant she was going to sob, and fought it.

   An almost electrical shock shot through her, and her sob came out as a
gasping cry.  She blinked, raised her head, and identified the feeling as
coming from her left breast ...  no ...  her left nipple.  She saw his lips
sealed around it, and then saw her breast elongate, as his cheeks caved in,
and he pulled his head back.  The electricity being generated in her nipple
jangled her nerves and she gasped again.  Her nipple suddenly came free,
and her breast snapped back to its original shape.  He immediately moved
his head, and started generating electricity in the other nipple.

   Then his hand started stroking her abdomen, over that little pooch of
flesh.  He squeezed it and rubbed, his hand dipping down to tease her
glossy brown pubic hair.  Her legs involuntarily drew up and spread, as her
heels tried to find purchase on the slick bedspread, in preparation for
thrusting her loins up.  He kept rubbing and sucking until she wanted to
scream.  She groaned instead.

   "Ohhhhhh, pleeease."

   He let the nipple pop out of his mouth and his face appeared over hers.

   "You like that?" he asked, smiling.

   "I can't stand it," she moaned.

   "I think you can," he said.

   He leaned down and kissed her gently on the lips, pushing the tip of his
tongue against her teeth.  She felt the insane urge to suck his tongue, and
tried to, but he pulled it loose and rose back up.

   "Would you like this?" he asked.

   Suddenly his hand slid down and a finger slipped between her labia,
pressing the tip into her and wiggling back and forth, pushing her clitty
from side to side.

   "AHHHHHHH," she moaned, and her hips did their thing.  As they came up,
his finger slid deeper into her.

   "If you can't stand that I can stop," he said softly.

   "Nooooooo," she whined.  Her hips didn't know what to do now.  His
finger felt so good in her that she just wanted to lie there and feel that,
but her body wouldn't cooperate.  It jerked and moved all over the place.

   "I think you need to have an orgasm," he said, sliding his finger out of
her.

   "Oh pleeease," she whined.  She meant "Please don't stop," but Bobby
heard her asking for an orgasm.

   Then she was distracted beyond belief, as he stood and started shedding
his clothes.  His chest and shoulders were bared first, and she felt a
hunger grip her loins that she'd never felt before.  Then his pants were
down, and he bent over.  When he stood up, there were just his underwear
left, and the front of them was pointed toward her.  She licked her lips as
his thumbs went to the waistband, and pushed.

   When she saw it, another moan leapt from her throat.  His looked so
different from the misty memories she had of Herb's, and it was almost like
seeing one for the first time.  It looked almost menacing to her, but it
was also beautiful in a strange way.  She realized she was lying, almost
naked, with her legs spread obscenely, and part of her brain told her to
close them.  She started to, but stopped when he spoke.

   "Oh, no," he said.  "Don't close them.  I owe you that orgasm."

   She realized what he was going to do, but had no time to react to it
before he had jumped onto the bed, bouncing her, and his face lowered
between her legs.

   She took in a breath to stop him, but then his lips and tongue touched
her and it came out as a grunt, as she sat half up.  She flopped back
almost immediately, because her hips suddenly wanted to push up again, and
she couldn't do it if her back wasn't on the bed.

   "Ohhhhhhhhhh," she groaned, as the most delicious feelings coursed
through her pussy.  Herb had never done this either.  This alone, felt
better than anything she had ever felt with him.  This had to be an orgasm.

   He kept going, and she felt more and more agitated.  A pressure of some
kind seemed to be building in her loins, and it made her feel like she was
being inflated, like a balloon.  His tongue lashed her clit until she
thought her face would explode with heat.  Something very strange started
to seep into her loins.  She knew something was going to happen, but she
had no idea what it was going to be.

   "I feel ...  so ...  strange," she panted.

   He didn't answer.  He just kept going, and the feeling got more and more
intense.  It wasn't pain, exactly, but it was close to it.

   Then, suddenly, it was like something inside of her had been pushed over
the edge of a cliff, and she felt like her whole body was expanding.

   "AHHHHHHHHH," she screamed, as the most delicious sensations she had
ever felt in her entire life washed over her.  It was like coming from the
cold dark, into the bright sun, but it was so much better than that.  She
realized she was letting out a hoarse scream, and suddenly remembered that
Herb was sleeping.  She covered her mouth.

   Then, clearly before whatever was happening to her was over, he was
kissing up her body and she suddenly felt full down there.  She raised her
head to see his pubic hair mesh with hers, and groaned again as, for the
first time in a decade, her pussy was full of hot, throbbing cock.

   This cock was harder than Herbs, and made her feel full in a delightful
way.  He didn't move it in and out of her, but kept it in deep, and just
rubbed the dickens out of her clitty.  She felt that pressure building
again and was delighted.

   This time she had some idea what to expect, and she was eager to
experience that amazing feeling again.  As she was pushed over the cliff
again, his lips came down on hers, and she was able to suck his tongue as
her body vibrated with joy.  She tasted the tangy taste that she
instinctively knew was her taste, but didn't care at all, as her second
orgasm slithered around in her belly.  It was a different kind of orgasm,
with sharper pains, that shot to her nipples as he rubbed against her. 
Those pains made her voice a strained, high-pitched keen, that turned into
a rhythmic grunting, somehow, that was in time with the rhythm her hips had
finally found, pushing up at him as his hips came around in another circle,
anticipating when her clit would be crushed and rubbed a certain way, and
meeting that with almost frantic thrusts that increased the streaks of
sweet pain.

   It all culminated when her whole body went rigid, and stayed that way
for ten seconds, while she felt her eyesight dimming, and the world was
made of sparks and flashes that were consuming her body.

   She went limp, unable to maintain the muscular tension in any part of
her body.

   Now he stroked in and out, like Herb had, but as he did it he kissed her
neck, and cheeks and eyes as she gasped for breath.  He was breathing hard
too.  She could feel the puffs of warm air on her face.

   Slowly he went faster and faster, which felt good, but didn't threaten
to make her explode, like had just happened.  She felt like she could lie
there and feel this forever.  It was like the first sip of the perfect
chocolate shake, except that it happened over and over and over.

   "Uhhh," he moaned, and his eyes closed.  He had been moving so fast that
it was shaking her, moving her body up and down in the bed.  But that too,
was like a massage of sorts.  He stopped, with just the tip in her, and
then, very slowly pushed all the way in.

   She felt the warmth of his sperm shooting into her, as he gave a long
clearly satisfied sigh of relief.  His prick kept spurting, even after he
was all the way in, and his grimace told her he was experiencing some kind
of sweet pain too, just like she had.

   Rhonda Wilson, at that moment, was proud.  She was proud that this man
could achieve that kind of ecstasy while he was with her.  She hadn't felt
proud like this for as long as she could remember.  It was almost better
than the feelings he had made wash over her like a tidal wave.  He hadn't
stopped, like Herb stopped.  He hadn't gone soft, like Herb went soft.  He
wasn't apologizing to her.  Instead, he had spurted in her, deep inside,
like a real man was supposed to do in this situation.

   That semen, flowing into her womb, more than anything else that had
happened, told her that she WAS desirable, and that, when he said she was,
he had MEANT it.

   The relief that burst inside her was stronger than anything else that
had happened ...  even those amazing orgasms.  The relief, and
understanding that she was a real woman, who had been desired by a real
man, left her a sobbing wreck.

   "Shhhhhh," he said as she gave out great wracking sobs.  "It's all
right."

   "I knooooooow," she bawled.  "I'm haaaapy," she added, showing her teeth
in an attempt at smiling, as tears ran down her cheeks and got onto her
neck.

   He rolled, and pulled her to her side, putting an arm under her head, so
she could lie comfortably, and let her get control of herself.  The whole
time, he just looked at her face.  He didn't get up and leave.  She felt
the ecstasy of cuddling with the man who had just flushed her full of
semen, begin to overwhelm her again, but clamped down hard.  She didn't
want to keep crying in front of him.  He deserved anything she could give
him, but she didn't have the faintest idea of how to communicate that to
him.

   "Thank you," she finally whispered, sniffling.

   "It was my pleasure," he said.  "I suspect I'm going to want to do it
again."

   "Really?" she felt all kinds of thrills shoot through her.

   "Lots of times," he said.

   "OK," she said, meekly.

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

   Like the other women, when Bobby made himself available, Rhonda began to
feel like she couldn't go on living without him in her life.  He saw her
every day for a week, and then every other day for two weeks.  Her whole
demeanor changed.

   Part of that was because, occasionally, Bobby wanted her to strip for
him, and just let him look at her.  He walked around her, tracing a
fingertip along her hip, or across her back or buttocks.  Sometimes he
stood behind her, his hot prick pressed into her back, while he reached
around and just played with her breasts.  No woman could go through that
without knowing, deep inside her, that the man doing this found her
attractive.

   There were wild, hurried couplings, when Bobby showed up and had to be
someplace else soon.  But, as he had with the other women, he gave her lots
of attention, in the beginning, and then weaned her off of him slowly.

   The changes in her were obvious.  She was more confident.  She bought
different clothes, and experimented with makeup, asking Janet to help her.

   Janet was mystified, at first.  After their first "session", there
hadn't been that much change in her friend.  But, later, the change was
obvious and tantalizing.

   One day, Rhonda asked what she should do with her hair.

   "I want it to be pretty for Bobby," she said.

   "He's that good?" Janet asked.

   "He's better than good," said Rhonda firmly.  "He makes me feel like a
woman."

   "You are a woman," said Janet.  "A woman doesn't have to have a man to
make her feel like a woman."

   "This one does," said Rhonda, not embarrassed at all.  "At least for
now," she added.

   "What does he DO?" asked Janet, her curiosity bubbling over.

   One of the changes in Rhonda came out then.  She looked at her friend
and, in a way completely uncharacteristic for Rhonda Wilson, and in a voice
that was full of passion, said: "You mind your Ps and Qs, girlfriend, and I
might hire him to show you."

   Janet blinked.  She had admitted to herself that he was a luscious hunk
of man, and, during a few nighttime fantasies, and while engaged in the use
of her dildo, Janet had let herself imagine being under him.  But she had
shied away from men for a long time.  The thought of being under any man's
thumb ...  or body ...  made her nervous.  Then again, Rhonda hadn't
suffered at all.  Not one bit.

   "Has he asked for more money?" she asked, suspiciously.

   "Not a dime," said Rhonda.

   "And he's really THAT good?"

   "Good doesn't even come close to what he is," said Rhonda.  "Now, quit
avoiding the subject.  What shall I do with my hair?

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

   Like February twenty-ninth had been a leap of epic proportions for
Rhonda, April first turned out to live up to its reputation too.

   Mary went into labor early in the morning.  Considering that it was her
first child, it was a singularly unremarkable labor.  By the time her
mother got to the hospital, the doctor was already having Mary moved to the
delivery room.  A very short hour later, she gave birth to a healthy eight
pound one ounce boy.

   What made it suitable for April Fool's Day, was that both Mary and her
mother, after just one peek at the baby, knew that his father was Bobby. 
It wasn't just the coal black hair, or already wide shoulders.  His chin
and nose and eyes all looked just like Bobby's baby pictures, in the album
back home.

   Fred was oblivious, completely manic with the joy of everything going so
smoothly, and about the baby being so beautiful and healthy.  His kisses to
the mother of "his" child were so heartfelt that she convinced herself
that, as soon as it was possible, he would be the next man to impregnate
her.  He deserved to father her children.  She loved Bobby, and she'd love
this baby forever, but she wanted to have one of Fred's too.

   Fred left, to go stand outside the nursery and stare at his son.

   Mary looked at her mother, now five months pregnant herself, and showing
obviously.  Mirriam smiled.

   "He's very handsome," she said.  Her eyes said more.  "He certainly
bears a family resemblance."

   Mary blushed.  She decided to bluff.  "Of course he does," she said. 
"I'm his mommy."

   "Yes," said Mirriam.  "You are."

   She rubbed her swollen belly then, for some reason.

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

   Mirriam's suspicions gelled even further, when the happy couple named
their son Jordan Lee.  Lee was the name of Fred's grandfather.  Jordan was
Bobby's middle name.

   There wasn't anything she could do about it, though.  In a way, it made
her feel a little bit better.  She knew about Flo, of course, and, based on
the way some of his other sisters treated him, she suspected them too.  In
a way, she hoped the child growing inside her came out looking exactly like
little Jordan Lee.  She'd be happy if it looked like Ted too, of course ...
but she didn't know if she'd be happier ...  or not.

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

   It wasn't until the seventh of April, that Bill Gregory saw his fiancée
holding little Jordan.  He saw the sparkle in her eyes, and the helpless
love she felt for the baby was written on her face.  He left the room
quickly, before his erection could fully mature.  He knew he had to wait at
least another three months, because the wedding wasn't going to be until
July.  In that moment, Bill Gregory decided that he was going to make his
new wife pregnant just as fast as was humanly possible.  He wanted her to
be that happy as his wife.  He wanted to see that look on her face when his
own son was in her arms.

   Later that night, he parked the car out on South Point road.

   Bev looked over at him in the dark.  "I know why you came here," she
said.  "You're going to try to get into my panties again."

   His teeth showed white in the dark.  "Yup," he said.

   "It's only three more months," she said.

   "When I saw you with that baby, I knew I had to make you pregnant," he
said.

   "Silly, even if I'd let you, I'm on the pill."

   "The pill?  Why?" He sounded worried.  "You won't let me do anything. 
Why are you on the pill?"

   "Because, you handsome man," she said, "you make me so crazy sometimes
that I might use very bad judgment some day."

   "Really?" He sighed.  "You think about letting me?"

   "Constantly," she said.

   "But ...  if you're on the pill ...  then it wouldn't hurt anything if
we ...  did it," he said, reasonably.

   "You listen to me," she said, her voice heated.  "When I go on my
honeymoon, I want to do all kinds of things with you that we've never done.
I want to know that you're crazy for me, and that everything is as new for
you, as it is for me.  Don't ruin that by asking me to do all those things
now."

   "I know," he said.  "It's just that I get so horny.  I got a boner when
I saw you holding your sister's baby!" He looked out the window, and then
back.  "Couldn't we do at least one thing ...  and save everything else for
the honeymoon?"

   She'd actually been waiting for an opening to do what she'd wanted to do
herself for months.  She decided this was it.

   "All right," she said.  "There's something I could do for you ... 
because I love you.  The problem is, I don't know how to do it."

   "What?" he asked anxiously.

   She leaned over and unzipped him.  He was so shocked that he just sat
there and let her.

   "Move the seat back," she said.

   He reached for the lever and pulled, while pushing hard with his feet.
The seat shot back a foot.  She reached in through his fly, and tried to
find his penis.  She could have done it easily.  She'd learned how to get
to Bobby however he was dressed.  But she acted inexperienced.  She had to,
to maintain the illusion that she was doing this for the first time in her
life.

   "I can't reach you," she whined.  "Push your pants down."

   "Really?" he gasped, his hands fumbling with his belt.  Within fifteen
seconds, his pants were around his thighs, and his boner was exposed.  He
expected her to jack him off, and, to be honest, that was fine with him.

   "I'm not going to be very good at this," she said softly.  "But I'll try
to learn, OK?"

   "I can help you," he gasped.  "I've done it a thousand times."

   "No you haven't," she said.  "At least you'd better not have done it ...
not even once."

   "What?" he panted.

   "This," she said, and lowered her head to take him in her mouth.

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

   Bev moved his semen around in her mouth, before she swallowed it.  It
was similar to Bobby, but different too.  She liked it.  Bill's head was
lying back on the seat headrest, and he was catching his breath.  She had
cheated only a little bit, doing something perfectly, and then stopping to
ask if she was doing it right.  Invariably he was effusive in his praise,
and he never seemed to notice that she played him like a cheap banjo,
strumming his emotions and body until he erupted.  She swallowed, and her
gulp was loud in the car.

   "I swallowed it," she said shyly.  "I didn't know what else to do with
it.  I didn't want to make a mess.  Is that OK?"

   Bill rolled his head toward her.  "I want to marry you now, tonight.  We
can wake up the preacher."

   She laughed happily.

   "I was afraid I wouldn't like it," she said.  "But I do.  I think I'm
going to want to do that a lot.  Is that all right?"

   "Honey," he panted.  "You'll never get any argument from me."

   "You're not mad at me for ruining that part of our honeymoon ...  are
you?"

   "I forgive you," he panted.  "I want to forgive you every night for the
next three months too." His teeth showed in the dark again, as he grinned.

   "OK," she said, leaning over to kiss him.

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

   In another car, on another road, Constance Harris was in a lot of
trouble.  Being on the pill hadn't made her want to have sex with Tim any
more than she already did, which wasn't very much.  It wasn't that she
didn't like him.  She liked him a lot.  They were going steady, and she
liked that idea just fine.  But Tim hadn't quite risen to the level where
she dreamed of his penis, or thought about letting him put it in her.  She
knew he got erections for her, and that was fine.  But her inexperience
caused her to assume that the erections didn't mean all that much.  They
weren't ...  urgent.  After all, she'd felt Bobby's erection pressed
against her, and nothing had happened.  And, she'd felt Tim's erection
pressed against her ...  and nothing had happened.

   Constance was a bundle of inconsistencies.  She had seen Bobby and her
mother making love.  She had seen Bobby's prick spurt.  She was vastly more
knowledgeable about the way sex worked, and looked, than most of the girls
her age.  The problem was there was only one man she was experienced
because of.  That was Bobby.

   And, when she did daydream of what it might be like to be under a man,
feeling all those things she had only seen, it was Bobby on top of her.

   At the same time, she loved being with Tim ...  talking to him ... 
doing things with him ...  kissing him.  She'd gotten to the point where
she couldn't wait for him to kiss her, each time they got together.  She
was kissing him now, in fact, and loving it.

   His hand, on her side, slid upwards, and his thumb touched the side of
her breast.  In an odd kind of way, perhaps because that was something that
Bobby HADN'T done to her, it was a new feeling.  She wasn't stupid.  She
knew Tim was trying to make a move on her.  But, as happens with many girls
who have only believed they were desirable for a short part of their lives,
it was also a compliment.

   And ...  it felt good.  She was immediately struck with the idea that,
if his thumb on the side of her breast felt so good ...  what would it feel
like if he touched the whole thing?

   She HAD seen Bobby's hands molded over Bev's breasts, while she sat on
him, naked, rubbing.  And, she'd seen Bobby sucking Bev's nipples.  Bev
seemed to really love that.

   Constance had a glimmer of why, as Tim continued to kiss her, and let
his thumb stroke, in a circle, along the side of her breast.

   The inconsistencies in Constance's mind were well known to her.  She had
asked her mother to put her on the pill, because of the hints of feelings
she was having.  She was firm in her belief that you shouldn't let a boy go
too far, or he'd lose respect for you.  At the same time, Bev let Bobby go
WAY too far, and that hadn't seemed to cause any trouble at all.  Flo and
Linda had watched with her, that one time, and she was quite sure they
watched a lot more.  They kissed Bobby too, with long, lingering kisses,
just like the one he had given her that night, before she went back to
Flo's bedroom and slept in Mary's old bed.  She had touched herself, that
night.

   She remembered what touching herself had felt like.  It had felt really
good.  She remembered touching her breasts too, as she examined them, as
they grew.  That felt really nice too.  Now, Tim's thumb, just making
circles on the side of her breast felt good ...  better than when she did
it.

   She wondered if it would feel better than when she did it if she let him
touch her other places too.

   That was why Constance was in trouble.  Constance was getting horny ...
very horny.

   She tried to use her intelligence, to deal with the situation.  She was
too inexperienced to know that passion often overrules intelligence, and
reason, when emotions begin to surge.

   Part of her reasoning was that, when Bev and Bobby had become emotional,
he had given her an orgasm, and then she had given him one.  They hadn't
had intercourse.  So, she thought, wouldn't she be able to do the same
thing with Tim?  She knew it would feel good.  She knew he'd be delighted.
She liked being able to delight him.

   She pulled back.

   "You're touching me," she said.

   "I know," he said, as his hand abandoned her breast and slid back down
to her waist.  "I'm sorry.  I guess I get kind of excited, when we kiss."

   "I didn't say you had to stop," she said, feeling a surge of something
very strong invade her chest.

   "Really?"

   "I liked it," she said.  "It makes me want to touch you too."

   "Really?" he croaked.

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

   What got Constance Harris out of trouble, that night, at least, was the
fact that Tim Appleton was, at heart, a nice guy.  He'd been raised by his
parents to respect girls.  He had a rational mind too, and he tried to use
it as often as possible.  He liked Constance more than he'd ever liked any
girl.  She was sweet, and not vulgar, like some girls he knew.  She was
very honest too.  She laughed at things that were funny, and didn't, even
to be polite, when something wasn't funny, but was presented that way. 
Like racial jokes.  He'd been with her one time when a friend of his had
told a racial joke.  He had laughed, going along with things.  She had not.
She hadn't gotten in the guy's face or anything.  She just didn't play
along with something that he knew was stupid ...  and that he HAD played
along with.  She had made him feel ashamed, but in a good way.  He realized
that she was a prize, rather than some passing interest.

   Therefore, thirty minutes after her sweet, soft voice had said he didn't
have to stop touching her, he decided to regulate things himself. 
Initially, after feeling his very first breast without being slapped, he
had gone from sliding his hand under her shirt, and caressing her stomach,
to pushing his hand into her bra.  She hadn't objected to any of that, and
just kept kissing him.

   Then her hand had gone to the front of his jeans, to squeeze and feel
what was there.  Since she was touching him ...  down there ...  it only
seemed normal to touch her ...  down there.  She didn't stop him when his
hand landed on her knee, and slowly moved up.  When he pressed at the
junction of her legs, through her jeans, her legs spread, instead of
closing.  As their kisses got heavier - they couldn't get any longer, these
days - he had rubbed there furiously, not knowing exactly what he was
doing, but knowing that rubbing was supposed to be involved.

   She had wiggled and squirmed and panted and squealed.  Tim had never
seen a girl or woman have an orgasm, so he didn't recognize what she did as
that, but it was obvious she was having a good time, and that made him both
proud and even hornier.

   Prudence, having recreated the first part of what she'd seen Bobby and
Bev do - the woman having an orgasm - moved on to the second part.  She
unzipped Tim, who sat there, stunned, and basically did the same thing her
best friend was doing six miles away in another car.

   The only difference was that she wasn't ready to put her mouth on him.
Once she'd gotten him to lower his jeans, and move the seat back, she
sighed as, for the first time, her hand was filled with something that she
couldn't see well, but which felt wonderful in her hand, just like she'd
known it would.  She'd known Bobby's would feel good in her hand, if she
was ever allowed to grasp it.

   She copied Bev's up and down motion, not knowing exactly how to do it,
but knowing it was supposed to be done.  She didn't even mind when he got
her hand all messy and sticky, as he bucked and groaned and told her how
much he loved what she was doing.

   That was the point at which Tim, who was happier than he'd ever been in
his whole life, had the crystal clear thought that a line had been crossed
that would lead to Constance Harris having his baby, if things didn't get
put under control.

   Basically, Tim decided, in the aftermath of his first female-induced
orgasm that being jacked off just had to be enough.

   Being so completely satisfied, at that moment, helped.

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

   In early May, Bobby visited the hospital, where the OB nurses, by now,
knew him well, by virtue of the fact that he seemed to know, and visit, an
inordinately large number of women who had just had a baby.

   This time, he was visiting Tilly Johnson, who had, the day before,
delivered her second child, a daughter, who was named Meredith.

   "Isn't she beautiful?" asked Tilly, as he held the tiny bundle in his
arm.

   "Yes, she is," he said.  "Just like her mother."

   "We can't thank you enough," said the woman who had just had Bobby's
baby, because her own husband was unable to get her pregnant.

   "Oh, it was my pleasure," he said, smiling.  "You know that."

   "I do," said Tilly, who was well aware of how enthusiastic Bobby was in
bed.  "I'm going to miss you, I think."

   "Miss me?" he said.

   "I think two is enough to satisfy me," she said.  "Jake and I will raise
them and be happy."

   Bobby understood then.  In the beginning of their relationship, Tilly
had needed the loving, sexual touch of a man.  At that time, her crippled
husband wasn't providing that, because he didn't think he could.  When it
became clear that he COULD have sex with her, she didn't need Bobby any
more, and ended the sexual part of the relationship.  She was already
pregnant by then, and had Bobby's baby.  When Jake had then tried to get
her pregnant again, and repeatedly failed, she revived their relationship,
but only during those times when she was fertile.  Tilly availed herself of
what Bobby could offer, only in-so-much as what she really needed.  For
everything else, she went to Jake.  Now, she was telling him that her legs
would be closed to him again, this time, forever.

   From Bobby's perspective, that was fine.  He only wanted to be with
women who wanted to be with him.

   "You're always welcome at the house," she said.  "I want them to know
you."

   "Oh, I'll be around," he said, smiling.  "You break lots of things."

   She grinned, and then sobered as he handed their daughter back to her.
"I'll always love you," Tilly said softly.

   He bent over and kissed her on the nose, and his baby on the forehead.

   "I'll always love you too," he said.  "Thanks for letting me give you
children."

   "Thanks for giving me my husband back," she said, her eyes welling up.

   "Hey, this is supposed to be a time of happiness," he said, standing up.

   "I AM happy," she said, wiping her eyes with her free hand.  "You played
a big role in that."

   "It was my pleasure," said Bobby again.

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

   Rhonda was sitting in a kitchen chair.  She had just fed Bobby dinner,
and was waiting for him to take her to bed.  When she knew he was coming
over, she always wore the robe she had been wearing, the first time he had
made love to her.  That time, she hadn't even taken it off.  It has just
been opened, and she lay on it as he took her places she had never been
before.

   Since then, she did take the robe off, because it was more comfortable
being completely naked with him, but she always wore it until he took her
to bed.

   He stood, and went behind her, to rub her shoulders.  She leaned back,
relaxing.  She loved his touch.  He tugged at the collar, and she leaned
forward as he pulled the robe down off her shoulders, baring her breasts.
Still, he massaged her shoulders and neck, and her head lolled.  His hands
slowly slid down to cup her breasts, and lift them.

   That was when Herb, her husband, walked into the room, fully two hours
sooner than usual.  He had some business to take care of, before he went to
work, and had come out of his sanctuary early for that reason.

   Herb had never seen Bobby before.  He blinked, staring at the man's
hands on Rhonda's breasts.

   "Who the fuck are you?" he asked, heat in his voice.

   Rhonda, who had seen him come into the room, had also gone through an
amazingly complicated thinking process in the ten seconds it took Herb to
speak.  Embarrassment had exploded in her like a nova.  But, like a nova,
the explosion was there, and then gone again, as she moved on to
resentment. Herb didn't love her.  Herb had his boyfriends.  Herb had
manipulated her for twelve years ...  longer, if you included their short
courtship.  Herb had married her under false pretenses.  Herb was a coward
who wouldn't admit to the outside world that he was gay, and had dragged
her through a loveless marriage to try to convince the world he was
"normal."

   The tone of his voice caused her to move on to anger.  She didn't
question him when he brought a boyfriend home.  He wasn't blatant about it,
true, but she knew it happened, and he certainly didn't ask her permission
to do so.

   "This is my lover, Herb," she said, her voice casual, but tight.  "His
name is Bobby.  You've never introduced me to any of your lovers, Herb,"
she added.

   "What the fuck are you doing?" rasped the man, who felt the edge of
panic creeping up on him.  There was a stranger in his house ...  a
stranger who was feeling up his wife.  He might not have sexual feelings
for her, but she was still his wife!  And she had said something about his
boyfriends!  Right out loud, in front of this stranger!

   "Well," said Bobby, taking his cue from Rhonda.  "Right now, I'm feeling
Rhonda's breasts.  I like feeling them.  They're beautiful, and soft."

   "You can't do that!" said Herb, his voice belligerent.

   "Why not?" asked Bobby.  "You don't do it.  Somebody should.  They're
really beautiful breasts."

   Herb blanched.  This guy knew about him.  Rhonda had told him.  His
world started to cave in on him, and his attitude changed markedly.

   "Honey," he moaned.  "You said you wouldn't tell anybody.  This could
ruin us!"

   "It could ruin YOU," said Rhonda, feeling the heat of anger give her
courage she'd never had before.  Bobby's hands on her breasts seemed to
give her strength too.  He hadn't moved them, and they were still massaging
her, while all this was happening.

   "But it won't," she said, calming down.  "Bobby's known for months, and
hasn't told anybody.  He's interested in me, Herb ...  not you."

   "You can't leave me," whined her husband.

   "I'm not going to leave you," she said firmly.  "Bobby and I are lovers,
but that's all.  You have your lovers, and I've started having mine. 
That's all."

   "There are others?" choked Herb.

   "No," she said.  "Not yet.  Right now Bobby is all I need.  He may be
all I ever need.  I don't really know, Herb.  But don't worry.  If I ever
choose another lover, I won't bring him here."

   "This is too dangerous," he moaned.

   "No, it's not," she said.  "And, even if it is, you risk exposure every
time you do ...  what you do.  You've indulged your desires for twelve
years, Herb.  I get to do that now too.  I'm not going to manipulate you,
the way you manipulated me.  Why are you up so early?"

   Her change of subject caught him off guard.

   "I have to see a man about buying a boat," he said.

   "A boat?  You never said anything to me about a boat." Rhonda's voice
still held anger.

   "It's a houseboat," said Herb, nervously.  "I can go fishing, or
whatever.  I didn't think you'd be interested in something like that."

   "How would you know?" she asked, shivering as Bobby pulled the tips of
his fingers together to squeeze her nipples.  "You never asked me.  You
never talk to me about things like that."

   Herb was staring at the hands on his wife's breasts.  This was too
unreal to him to understand.  The man kept playing with her tits, like Herb
wasn't even there!  And Rhonda!  What had come over her?  This wasn't the
Rhonda he knew ...  had lived with for twelve years.  He couldn't believe
his eyes.

   "I talk to you," he said, weakly.

   "You say hello, and goodbye," she said.  "I see you maybe two hours a
day.  I can't remember the last time we had an actual conversation about
anything."

   "I know how you feel about me," he said.  "I thought we had an
understanding.  It's worked this long.  Why do you want to change it now?"

   "It's worked for YOU this long," said Rhonda, brushing Bobby's hands
away from her breasts and standing up.  She pulled her robe back on, but
didn't close the chest.  "I've been miserable for almost all of our
marriage, Herb.  But you didn't care.  You just went out and had fun.  Well
...  go buy your houseboat, if you want.  But remember this.  It's OUR
houseboat, and you should have asked me first.  We're still married, even
if it's in name only.  I might want to go fishing too!" She paused for a
second.  "Or whatever."

   She took Bobby's hand, and pulled him toward her bedroom.

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

   Rhonda needed Bobby every day for a while, after the confrontation with
Herb.  Of course, the fact that she happened to be ovulating might have had
something to do with that too.  In any case, one result of the
confrontation with her gay husband was that Rhonda got one too many sperm
injected into her by her lover.  An argument with her gay husband ...  got
Rhonda Wilson pregnant.

   It was really quite ironic.

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

   It's time to end this portion of Bobby's story, as the summer of 1972
was an interesting summer in his life, and deserves the space to tell it,
without making this book too long.  That story will be continued in book
eight of this series when, for the first time, not counting the twenty
dollars Janet paid him to service her friend, Bobby was officially hired to
provide...

   Well, as I said, we need to move on to tell that story.

   The End
   


  
gigolo7_Rhonda_all