A troubled orphan boy is punished by being sent to the Dante's Inferno of
orphanages, but a glitch in the paperwork lands him in a place full of love
and concern for his welfare.  It changes his life completely, and that of
the women who run the small orphanage in Mid America during WW II.

   Codes: MF mF harem slow rom 1st teen cons reluc het cheat oral mastrb
preg

  
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======

   Author's comment: Some stories take a lot longer to set the plot up than
others.  This is one of those stories.  To fully understand the characters,
and what they do later in the story, it was necessary.  So, too, was it
necessary to delve into a little philosphy and psychology in the beginning.
I believe it will make the rest of the story much more interesting in the
long run.  I can only hope you agree.  So have patience, kind reader, and
get to at least the third chapter before you decide whether or not it's
worth finishing.  I don't think you'll be disappointed.

   Bob
===========================================================================
======

   The Orphanage Blues

   By Beating Off Bob (beatingoffbob@yahoo.com)



   Life is almost never easy or relaxed or even happy in a routine sort of
way.

   That's a statement a lot of people would argue about.  First of all it's
a broad statement.  The argument would probably start with the definition
of "almost never" tied to "routine sort of way".

   How many hours of the day is one relaxed or happy before the statement
becomes false?  Maybe you don't think it's fair to decide the truth or
fiction of the statement based on the quantity of number of minutes or
hours a person is happy during a day.  Perhaps you think that if, at some
time during the day, more days of the week than not, a person feels
happiness, or relaxed, or that life is easy, then that statement is false.

   Obviously, one can't feel gloriously happy all day, every day, but if a
person isn't miserable for the majority of the day, wouldn't that suggest
that life is happy?  For the most part?

   But people who want to argue about the amount of time a person is happy
are missing the point.  It isn't really about how often you are happy that
really counts.  What counts is if you can find a way to be happy at all.

   Life is a struggle, almost all the time.  Abraham Maslow's theory of
needs illustrates that, whether you agree with his hypothesis or not.  For
those of you who are unfamiliar with that hypothesis, Mr.  Maslow believed
that all our energy goes into providing for ourselves in the following
manner:
First we use our energy to obtain basic physiological needs - food,

clothing, shelter etc.

   Once we have that, we work towards safety and stability for ourselves
and those we care about.

   When that is taken care of we concentrate on obtaining friends, the
feeling of belonging and love.

   Once we feel we are loved by others, we try to rise to the top of the
heap.  We look for respect, and status, among other things.

   After all that is done, we look toward self actualization, which
involves truth, justice, and finding a meaning to our lives.

   It's a five level pyramid when it's presented in graphic form.  So, at
what level can we say that we're happy most of the time?  It's fair to say
that few people spend the majority of their time on self actualization,
which means they're still struggling primarily to get to one of the other
levels.  And if you spend your time and energy struggling to climb to
another level, can you really say that you're happy "most of the time"?

   It's complicated even more when you realize that, in reality, we try to
work on all five levels of the pyramid at the same time.

   Well, the fact is that this is supposed to be a story, not a
philosophical argument.  So let's get on with the story and maybe that will
illuminate the argument in a way that will make you ...  happy.

   The story is about a boy named Bobby Martin.  Bobby would probably have
been described as an unhappy boy.  His parents were killed in an automobile
accident in 1935, when he was seven, and there was no other family to take
him in.  It was then a society that had little use for a seven year old
orphan boy, and he was shuttled from one miserable institution to another
over the years.  The Great Depression in America had made it hard enough
for people to feed and clothe their own children, and adoptions were not
popular for the most part.

   Conditions in America's orphanages might have been roughly compared to
the top of level one of Maslow's pyramid.  Bobby generally had enough to
eat to stay alive, and clothes to wear, and a roof over his head.  He was
safe, for the most part, though he was beaten fairly regularly because of
his attempts to climb higher on Mr.  Maslow's pyramid.  To be fair, it must
be said that the social structures in those places were well developed,
both among the children housed in them, and the staffs that took care of
those children.  So perhaps Bobby was familiar with the twists and turns of
level two or three, once he'd been at some institution long enough, though
each time he was moved, he had to start all over again.

   But talk to any of the people who lived or worked in those places, and
you'll be hard pressed to find even one who would characterize them as
"happy places."

   Bobby's story started in 1935, but we'll pick it up on New Years Day,
1945, which is when Bobby's life took a turn for the better.  It wasn't
intended to take a turn for the better.  Quite the opposite.  It was
intended that his life descend a little further into Hell.  But fate has a
way of altering intentions, which is exactly what happened.

   He was then sixteen years old, only ten months shy of being old enough
for the system to permit him to join the war effort and go off to die for
the country that had no other use for him.  He was, on that day, a resident
of the Taylor School for Boys, a three story brick building that had, at
one time, been a warehouse for bales of cotton, but had been taken over by
the Government when the owner went bankrupt during the depression.  Even
renovation into a dormitory style warehouse for boys couldn't expunge the
fine cotton lint that pervaded the place, coating everything, no matter how
often things were swept or dusted.

   Bobby had lived at Taylor for just over a year, and had just been called
on the carpet for perhaps the thirtieth time for fighting.  Bobby wasn't a
strapping strong boy.  He was tall for his age, probably due to heredity,
and painfully thin, probably due to a diet that provided only eighty
percent of his daily needs.  As such, even boys a few years younger than he
was picked on him.  He had spirit, though, and was quick to lash out at
those who sought to keep him low on the social totem pole.  He fought dirty
and he fought for keeps.  He couldn't understand how, even though the boys
he fought usually ended up in the hospital, the others kept trying to beat
him.

   He faced Mr.  Ridgemont, the so-called Principal of the so-called
school.

   "You're incorrigible, Bobby," the man said flatly.  "I'm tired of you
causing trouble.  I'm transferring you.  You'll wish you'd been more
tractable when this is done.  I promise you that!"

   Bobby stayed silent.  Ridgemont loved the sap he carried in his back
pocket, and he loved using it on the boys he was angry with.  Bobby had a
lot of experience on the receiving end of that anger.  He didn't care where
they sent him.  In less than a year he'd be inducted into the Army and he'd
be free at last.  He didn't even care that it meant he'd have to fight and
probably die.  The Army couldn't be any worse than what he'd lived in for
almost as long as he could remember.

   "I'm sending you to Millstone," said Ridgemont, his tight mouth smiling
a little.

   Millstone was well known in orphanages as the place where boys were
"corrected".  It was what passed, in those days, for a maximum security
prison for 'wayward' boys.  It was rumored that not a few boys died while
they were at Millstone.

   "Get him out of here," said Ridgemont gruffly to the two burly, and only
marginally intelligent men in what had once been white uniforms, who stood
by Bobby.  They were too stupid to be inducted into the Army, and this was
the only job they'd been able to find.  It suited their temperaments too,
because they got to beat the boys.

   One of the men cranked Bobby's right arm so high up behind his back that
he felt tendons stretching to the breaking point.  Bobby stepped quickly
forward and kept his whimper of pain in.  It was better if you didn't vent
your pain.  They fed on that.  He knew where they were taking him.  There
was a windowless room, with only a mattress on the floor.  He had been in
that room many times.

   Back in the office Harry Ridgemont scrawled the order to transfer Bobby
Martin.  He was busy, and his handwriting, even at its best, was difficult
to read.  He was lazy too, and didn't cross the "T" in Millstone, in the
destination block of the transfer order.

   Bureaucracy being what it is, it took two weeks for that transfer order
to reach an office two states away, where a woman peered at the scrawled
word and read the "M-I-L-L" at the beginning, but then could recognize only
an "o" and an "n" later in the word.  She pulled out a book and began
leafing through it, trying to match those letters to one of the many
orphanages the system supported.  Ah.  There it was.  "Milleson House", in
Nebraska.

   She processed the transfer and sent it on its way, for another two week
journey to the location where someone would read it and actually do
something about it.

   Bobby sat in the punishment room the entire month.  In some ways, he
didn't mind.  There was no one to talk to, but then talking to people
always ended up making trouble.  If you talked in school, you got the sap.
If you said something behind someone's back ...  or even in front of him
... he wanted to fight, and you got the sap.  If you talked in the
evenings, when the attendants were listening to the radio, you got the sap.
It was just easier not to talk.

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

   Randy Covington was what could be called a happy-go-lucky fellow.  He'd
broken his leg in a farming accident when he was young, and the bones had
been set poorly, leaving him with an obvious limp.  His prospects hadn't
been good as a young man, and the Army wouldn't take him when the war broke
out, but then he was offered the job of accompanying orphans during
transfers from one facility to another.  Most of that was done seated, in
this or that bus, car or train though, and it was a steady job.  He lived
with his mother when he wasn't traveling, and, together, they made do.  All
in all, Randy Covington knew when he was well off, and appreciated it.

   He had seen his share of brutal situations and, when he arrived at the
Taylor School for Boys, and saw the two men flanking the boy he was there
to pick up, he recognized brutality in them immediately.  He handed over
the transfer order, put the boy in the passenger seat of his Government
sedan, took the burlap bag that he knew contained the boy's worldly
possessions, and left as quickly as possible.

   They were possibly a mile from the Taylor School for Boys when he first
spoke to the boy whose name he knew was Bobby.

   "So, all excited about going to a new place?" he asked genially, just
trying to make conversation.

   Bobby didn't speak.  It was easy, since he hadn't said a word to anyone
in a month.  Besides, he had found that speaking to adults was both
profitless, as well as sometimes dangerous.

   Randy had seen it before.  These kids closed down to the outside world.
He couldn't do anything about it, but tried anyway.  By the time they got
to the train station he had still been unable to get the boy to say a word.
Once at the station he launched into his memorized litany of instructions.

   "OK, your ticket is for Hamptstead, where someone will meet you.  That's
in Nebraska.  You're sixteen, so you're old enough to travel by yourself.
Your ticket includes a voucher for one meal.  It's good at any station that
has a placard in the window that looks like that." He pointed to a blue
triangle in the upper left corner of the paper he was holding out to Bobby.
"Don't get lost.  They don't like it when they have to hunt you down.  Your
trip will be overnight, but you don't have to change trains, so just find a
seat and get comfortable in it.  You got any questions?"

   Bobby peered at the paperwork the man was trying to give him.  The
transfer site clearly said "Milleson House" and not "Millstone".

   A lot went through Bobby's mind during those few seconds.  He'd never
heard of "Milleson House", but he had a pretty good idea that, if he was
being sent to Millstone, they wouldn't put him on the train by himself.  He
also knew that Millstone was in New Jersey, and not Nebraska.  He looked
guardedly at Roger, but still said nothing.

   Roger had other things to do.  It wasn't that he was impatient.  He just
needed to be moving on.  The boy's look suggested that something was wrong,
but he couldn't tell what.

   "You can talk ...  can't you?" he asked.

   Bobby's mind moved faster now.  He had a chance to escape.  He shook his
head in the negative.

   Roger peered at the paperwork for the silent boy.  There was a block for
"special needs", but it was empty.  He pulled out his fountain pen and
neatly printed "Mute" in the block.  Then he looked at the boy again.

   "Can you understand what I've told you?" he said in that slightly loud,
over-pronounced way that people use when they talk to people who are either
deaf or mute.  For some reason people assume that if one can't talk, one
must be stupid as well, or that if you over-enunciate and shout, they'll
hear you better.

   Bobby nodded his head this time.  He pointed to the blue triangle and
pantomimed putting something into his mouth.

   "Yes, that's for you to eat.  Good," said Roger, happy that a possible
problem had been resolved.  "I've noted your ...  problem ...  on your
papers, so they'll know about that when you get there.  Do you think you'll
be all right?  Maybe I need to get someone to ride with you."

   Bobby shook his head violently from side to side.  He reached for the
papers and bent to pick up the burlap bag at Roger's feet.

   When the boy stood, Roger slapped him on the back, and then was ashamed
instantly when the boy flinched.

   "Er ...  sorry.  I meant that as good luck." He stuck out his hand
instead.  Bobby took it gingerly, as if he'd never done that before.  "Good
luck, my boy," said Roger.  "I hope you like it where you're going."

   Bobby found it difficult to believe it when Roger turned and limped off,
leaving him alone.

   Being alone was something very different and new for Bobby.  The only
time in his life he'd been alone was when he was locked in a punishment
room alone.  That might seem odd to you, the reader, since most of us would
have considered Bobby to be "alone" most of his life, in the sense of not
having parents or siblings.

   But wherever Bobby went he did have family, of a sort.  True, it
changed, as kids came and, less often went, or when Bobby was shuttled off
to a new "home", but in every situation Bobby had found somebody to be pals
with.  He didn't know how to "love" in the sense that you and I think about
it, but his capacity to care was still intact and functioned as well as it
could have been expected to.

   And, the fact that he was among throngs of people either boarding or
leaving trains in the station around him didn't give him the feeling of
"belonging".  These were all strangers, who hurried by him without looking
at him for the most part, as if he were invisible.  He was used to being
invisible.  Many adults had come and looked at the children in the places
where he had lived.  All had let their eyes glide over him as if he weren't
there.  He was too old to look at as a possible adoptee.

   So Bobby luxuriated in the feeling of being alone, there among the
hundreds of other people around him.  Tentatively, he walked a ways down
the hallway, toward a big sign that said "Trains".  That seemed like an odd
sign to him, what with this being a train station and all.  What else could
be down that hallway?  He looked over his shoulder, expecting someone to
yell at him ...  to tell him to stop.  But he was invisible.

   Bobby Martin smiled for the first time in a month.  He smiled even
though he was only on the very first level of Mr.  Maslow's pyramid.  He
had the clothes on his back, and a spare set in his gunny sack.  He had a
voucher that was good for one meal during the next twenty four hours.  And,
as soon as he was on the train, he had shelter from the winter cold.

   He knew he had to board the train.  He had to make his freedom last as
long as possible.  Sooner or later somebody would notice that a mistake had
been made, and he would be snatched up and put in another bare room.  He
had no doubt that the mistake would be blamed on him, and that, someday,
he'd pay for it.  Until then he'd just enjoy the feeling, strange as it
might be, that he was just another traveler, on his way from one place to
another.

   He walked past a lunch counter and eyed it longingly, reading the menu
items and smelling the odors of food.  Breakfast had been conveniently
"forgotten" that morning.  They hadn't come to let him out of the
punishment room until that man had arrived to pick him up.

   There was a girl sitting at the lunch counter, beside a woman and man
who were probably her parents.  She was about his age, with long brown hair
and a pretty face.  She looked at him and smiled.  He looked away quickly,
afraid to keep eye contact with her.  She might tell her parents he was
bothering her.  He'd have liked nothing more than sitting beside the girl.
She looked like she might wear that stuff that women outside the orphanage
put on themselves, and which smelled good, like flowers.

   But he had no money, and getting caught trying to steal would end his
freedom quickly and savagely, he was sure.  So he walked on.

   He found the platform that his ticket said would be where the train was
that he was supposed to get on, but it was empty.  Not knowing what else to
do he found a corner and sat down on the floor, his burlap bag on his lap.
That bag contained his other shirt and pants.  He only owned one pair of
shoes.  They were a little tight, but he kept them anyway.  He used a rope
as a belt.  The bag also contained two changes of underwear, one of which
was originally meant for a woman to wear.  When you were given something,
you kept it.  If not you were never given anything again.

   There was one other item in the bag.  It was a lump of wood, one side of
which had been carved into the representation of the head of a dog.  The
carving was exquisite, finely detailed, the tongue hanging out of jaws as
if the dog were hot and panting.  One ear was raised, and the head, if
viewed from one angle, looked like it was tilted slightly.  There wasn't
enough of the body recognizable to tell for sure.

   Bobby had carved that piece.  He had found a pocket knife on the ground
one day and hidden it.  He had sharpened it by scraping the blade against a
cement floor until it was sharp enough to cut the hunk of wood he'd also
picked up off the ground.  Bobby had "seen" the dog in that lump of wood,
imagining it for over a year before he found the knife.  Then, when he had
a tool, he'd begun to make the wood look like what he saw in his mind.

   He'd gotten the head almost done before being caught with the knife,
which he was immediately accused of having stolen.  A male worker had
looked at it and taken it away, putting it in his own pocket.  The same man
had thrown the carving across the yard and put Bobby in a punishment room.
It had taken Bobby a week to get to the part of the yard where his dog had
been discarded.  It was still there and he'd been able to recover it.  He'd
managed to keep it hidden until he was transferred to another orphanage. 
After that he just claimed it had been given to him by an old man.  Had he
been able to finish it, it probably would have been taken from him too.  It
was master carver quality ...  that part that was done, anyway.  He felt
the carving through his bag and it comforted him to know it was still
there.

   "And who might you be?" came a gruff voice above him.

   Bobby looked up to see a man in a blue uniform, with a strange conical
hat.  It didn't look like the hats most men wore, and had a bill on it. 
Bobby didn't say anything.

   "Come on, now, where are your parents?  What are you doing here?" asked
the man.

   Bobby held up the papers in his hand and the man took them.

   "Oh, a waif," said the man in a kinder voice.  "Sorry about that.  Most
people sit on a bench instead of the floor," he added.

   Bobby looked at the bench only a few feet away.  It hadn't occurred to
him to sit on that.  Adults sat on benches and chairs.  Children sat on the
floor unless they were eating.  Sometimes even then.

   The man looked at the papers some more.

   "Mute eh?" he said.  "Can you understand talk?" he asked.

   Bobby nodded.

   "Good," said the man, handing the papers back.  "Shouldn't have left you
alone if you couldn't understand talk," he said.  "Your train will be here
in about forty-five minutes.  I'll be back to see you get on it.  Meanwhile
get up off the floor and sit on a bench like normal people."

   Bobby scrambled up and sat, as instructed.  This acting like you
couldn't talk was not a bad angle.  People didn't ask so many questions if
all you could do was shake or nod your head.

   The man did come back later too.  He came over and sat down beside
Bobby, taking his hat off.  He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and
blew his nose before stuffing the cloth back in his coat.

   "Well" he said.  "The San Francisco Challenger will be here on time. 
There'll be a bunch of our boys getting off and then we'll find you a good
seat.  We'll be picking up more soldiers going the other way.  Ever been on
a train before?" he asked.

   Bobby shook his head.

   "Greatest way to travel ever invented," said the man.  "I'm going to be
one of the porters on this ride, so I'll keep an eye on you, OK?"

   Bobby didn't know quite how to take that.  Usually having an eye kept on
you meant you were in trouble.  But the man didn't sound angry.  He just
sounded like he was giving Bobby information.  Bobby tried for a nod and
the man got up.

   "OK, then.  I'll see you in about fifteen minutes."

   When the train arrived Bobby watched in amazement.  He'd seen trains
before, but always from a distance.  This huffing, chuffing monster was
loud, and smoky and ...  just big.  Not wanting to take any chances, Bobby
waited until the porter came back for him and led him on the train.  He was
taken to a seat where the man tried to take his bag and put it up above. 
Bobby didn't want to let go of it, though and eventually the porter gave
up.

   The ride itself would make a good story, but that's a story for another
day.  What Bobby saw out the window of the train was amazing to him.  The
people who sat on the train around him were amazing to him.  He was afraid
to get off the train when it stopped.  Sometimes it stopped for a long
time, and at others for only ten minutes or so, and he was afraid to use
his voucher to get food because he didn't know how long that would take and
he might miss the train when it left or, worse yet, have to leave the food
behind while he ran to get back on.

   Soon the train was packed with young men wearing uniforms of various
kinds ...  military uniforms.  They were loud and laughed a lot, talking
about what they intended to do to the Hun, or the Japs.  The porter told
them to leave Bobby alone, and that he couldn't talk.  They did leave him
alone, for the most part.  One boy offered him a cigarette, which he took,
though he'd never smoked one before.  You always took what was offered. 
Then the soldier was off to talk to the others, as if they were all friends
who had known each other for years.

   When it got dark the men slept, and Bobby tried to.  The rocking of the
car and the click clack of the tracks was soothing.  His stomach growled
and hurt, but he ignored it as best her could.  Finally, his bag gripped
firmly in his hands, he dozed off.

   He woke again in the morning.  The train stopped, and then went and
stopped again, until Bobby, faint from hunger now, dozed off again.

   A blast of cold air woke him and he realized it was late in the day, and
the train had stopped yet again.  He wanted to get off and get something to
eat, but again, he was afraid to do so.  He was very hungry now, and was
tensing his muscles to stand up and go to the depot when a voice shouted
"All Abooooooaaaard!" and the train blew its whistle.  He sat back and
watched still more snowy land glide by.

   Bobby was wondering when the trip would ever end when the porter
suddenly appeared beside his seat.

   "Not much longer now, son," he said.  "North Platte is coming up.  The
boys'll all be getting off, but I don't want you to.  They only get ten
minutes there and it's hectic.  Your stop is only an hour farther down the
line."

   Bobby was amazed to see hundreds of people on the platform when the
train stopped.  They were all waving and calling out, as if they knew all
the soldiers on the train.  They had things in their hands that they gave
the men.  When the train stopped the servicemen stampeded out and into the
depot, running.  A girl, all bundled up due to the cold, came along the
platform and saw Bobby through the window.  She ran up to the window and
thrust something at him.  He lowered the window to feel a frigid blast of
cold air and she thrust the bundle in through the open window.  He took it,
to find it was a cloth bundle.  He had time to notice her face was pretty
and smiling, and then she was off, going to other windows where men were
sitting who had not gotten off the train.

   Bobby opened the bundle carefully and found it contained a sandwich and
a pastry.  He tried to stuff the sandwich in his mouth all at once, both
because he was ravenous, and because he didn't want anyone to take it away
from him.  It took him several bites and he almost choked.  The pastry he
crushed, unconsciously, in its cloth wrapping, and hid it between him and
the side of the car.  He was astonished at how good the sandwich was, and
looked around guiltily.  No one paid any attention to him.  He was almost
alone in the car.  Quickly he unwrapped the pastry and took a tentative
bite.  It was fantastic ...  unbelievable ...  sweet and soft, round, with
a hole in the middle.  He felt like he could die happy after having eaten
this delicious thing.  This he ate a little more slowly, savoring the
taste, knowing he'd never get to have this delightful thing ever again and
making the most of this amazing mistake that had been made.

   Then the girl was at his window again, peering in at him.  He leaned
away, afraid she had come to rectify her mistake.  She held out another
bundle and he lowered the window again.

   "Want another?" she yelled through the window.  Her hand came through
holding the cloth-wrapped bundle.

   Bobby stared.

   "Go on ...  take it," she smiled.  He almost dropped the new bundle, she
let go of it so quickly.  Then with a shouted "God Bless you!" she dashed
off down the platform.

   Bobby had never been 'blessed' before, though he'd heard the word.  He
looked unbelievingly at the new bundle and opened it carefully.  Inside was
another sandwich and a flat package wrapped in paper.  It was the first
chocolate bar Bobby had ever held in his hand.

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

   Mavis Milleson was forty, though this particular day she felt closer to
what she imagined sixty would be like.  She waited patiently on the
platform for the train that would bring her her latest acquisition.  She
tried to think of the children as acquisitions rather than human beings,
because her heart burst every time she thought of what it must be like to
be an orphan, and that was too hard.  You had to keep them at bay or they'd
tear your heart out.  She wasn't very good at it, and she grew attached to
all of the children anyway.  It was painful to her when they got adopted,
though that was, to her view, the best possible outcome for a child. 
Still, it was rarer than it should be, and some of the children she cared
for had never been anywhere else.  She was proud to be doing her part to
serve her country during the war.  And if she could take care of ten or
fifteen orphans then that meant the Government could concentrate more on
winning the war.  At least that was how she thought about it.

   She wiggled unconsciously at the cold.  February in Nebraska was always
cold, but she never got used to it.  Her high topped shoes protected her
ankles from the snow, and her old fashioned long skirts helped too, but it
was still cold.

   She was surprised that she was getting another child, not to mention
that it was a boy.  She was full up at her boarding house-turned-orphanage.
Business hadn't been good because of the Depression, and then the war came
along and strained things even more.  Then she found out about the program
that was trying to make space in the nation's overcrowded orphanages, and
found out that she could make more by housing waifs than she could by
operating a boarding house.  She hadn't had to do much renovation.  With
two children to each of the six rooms that were set aside for boarders, she
could comfortably handle a dozen children.  Right now she had thirteen, the
oldest of which was ten.  She had three of the smaller children in one
room, but they didn't complain since two of them were a babies and the
other felt like he was their big brother.

   When she got the official message that she'd be receiving another boy
she was surprised.  The war must be causing problems.  Usually she reported
that a child had been adopted before they sent her another one.  Then
again, she had a pretty good placement record.  The children she had were
young, and therefore easier to place.  And Nebraska was a place where
farmers sometimes adopted children, since that added hands to help with the
work, even it it was only in the house.

   She saw the smoke from the smokestack before she saw or heard the train
itself.  Even before that she heard the rails singing as they vibrated with
the coming of the heavy engine.  She saw it was another troop train coming,
so it would be more difficult to spot the boy, since he would be able to
get off at any number of places.  But the soldiers would stay on the train
at this stop.  Other than an exchange of mail bags and whatever passengers
got off, there would be no need for the train to stop longer.  There was no
one waiting to board, and troop trains didn't haul freight.

   She was standing and waiting when the train groaned to a halt, the bell
ringing its insistent tone that meant a short stop.  Her eyes were drawn to
a porter and a young man who got off together.  The porter she expected,
and a chaperone for the child.

   But she didn't see the child.

   Still, she gravitated toward the porter, who would know about the child
and chaperone.

   As she approached, her stomach sank.  The young man was dressed in rags,
for all intents and purposes, his pants too short and his shirt patched
many times over.  He was holding a burlap bag too.  Mavis had been in this
business long enough to know an orphan when she saw one, but he was much
too old to be sent to her!

   Her worst fears were soon confirmed as the she identified herself to the
porter and asked about Bobby Martin.  The man shoved a fistful of papers at
her and said "This is him.  Had no trouble from him.  Not sure whether he's
eaten or not.  Good kid for a dummy." Then he turned and remounted the
steps of the coach as Mavis held her hand out in supplication.

   "But ...  wait ..." she said uselessly as the door closed.  Almost
immediately the train began to inch forward.  In frustration she yelled the
first thing that came to her mind.  "WHERE'S HIS COAT?"

   Mavis swallowed.  It was too late to do anything about it now.  She'd
just have to take him home and then write letters until some other place
was found for him.  She couldn't take care of a grown boy!  She didn't know
anything about teenagers, and if she knew anything, she knew this boy was
in his teens.

   She turned to him, but didn't look at his face.  Instead she opened the
wrinkled papers in her hand and looked at them.

   "You're Bobby?" she asked.  She looked up to see the boy nod, his lips
pressed together.

   "There's been a mistake, Bobby.  I'm sorry about this, but I don't take
older children.  I don't know what to do," she said, uncertainly.  The boy
stared at her.  Her eyes strayed across the paper to the square she always
hated to see anything in.  The word "Mute" leapt off the page at her.  THAT
was what the porter had meant when he called the boy a dummy!

   "Oh you poor baby!" she gushed, a tear forming in her eyes.  "Can you
hear me honey?" The thought that this young man was handicapped made her
heart break.  He wasn't a bad looking boy, under that layer of dirt and
grime.  His arms and legs, both of which stuck out of his clothing in the
frigid air were slim and well formed.  He looked thin in his ragged
clothing.  She saw him nod and shiver at the same time and burst into
action.

   "Well come along.  You'll freeze out here.  We've got to get you into
the warmth or you'll catch your death of cold." She tugged at his shirt
sleeve and herded him toward the depot.

   Once inside the depot, standing by the pot-bellied coal stove, which was
cherry red at the bottom, Mavis took stock.  She had a car, one of the few
luxuries she was entitled to as a custodian of the children.  If a child
got too sick for the local doctor to treat, she had to drive to the
hospital over in Bridgeport, the nearest city of any size for miles.  The
car's heater worked well, and the house was only ten blocks away, so they
should be fine.  She gave him a chance to warm up and then hustled him out
to the car.

   Mavis didn't talk to the boy on the way home.  She was trying to figure
out where she was going to put him.  She wasn't sure if putting him in a
room with little ones was a good idea.  There was so much she didn't know
about older children.  She was childless herself, and the only children she
had any experience with were the babies and children under ten.  Still, she
couldn't just turn the boy out.  Unable to speak.  She choked up again and
blinked her eyes rapidly.  She darted a glance at him, but he was sitting
stock still, staring straight ahead.  What must the poor dear be thinking?

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

   What Bobby was thinking was that this must be the strangest orphanage in
the world if people acted like this woman.  She wasn't mean, and actually
cared that he was cold.  She said a mistake had been made, and in any other
place he'd been that was cause to blame him.  Punishment soon followed in
his experience.  But this woman didn't seem angry at all.  He looked out of
the sides of his eyes at the houses they were driving by.  This place was
tiny by comparison to the cities he had always lived in.  Just as he'd been
able to see for what seemed like miles from the window of the train, across
wide expanses of snow-covered flat land, he could see that, beyond the
houses there were only a few bare trees and that same flat land that seemed
to roll into low hills.

   The woman turned into the yard of a house that looked like any other
house on the street.  It was tall, with three stories.  It was white, like
all the other houses on the street, and had the same kind of porch that
went all the way around the house, from what he could see.  He assumed the
woman was stopping at her home before taking him to the orphanage.  He sat
quietly.  It was clear he had to wait to see what would happen.  He had
thought about jumping off the train and making a run for it, but the cold
weather had quashed that plan.  It was the same here.  He hoped she'd leave
the car running so the heater would work while she went to do whatever she
had stopped to do, but she turned the motor off and then opened the door.
He was still sitting there, staring straight ahead when she spoke.

   "Well?  Come on.  Let's get inside before we both freeze to death."

   Surprised, Bobby opened the car door and stepped out into the snow.  It
was deeper than his shoes and his socks got covered immediately.  He was
sad about that.  He only had one pair of socks.

   He let himself be hustled into the house and was hit suddenly by warmth,
and the smell of food all at once.  Even though he'd eaten the two
sandwiches and that delicious round pastry only an hour or two before, he
was still hungry.  He couldn't bring himself to eat the chocolate bar.  It
was too special.  He had put it in his bag.  Now the smell of cooking meat
made his mouth water.  He shivered again as the heat wrapped all around his
body.

   The woman - he didn't know her name - stopped and took off her coat. 
She was younger than he'd thought.  Under that coat she had a young woman's
body, slim, though not tall.  He noticed her breasts.  Bobby had been
noticing women's breasts a lot the last couple of years.  He looked out the
windows of the orphanage in the spring and summer to look at the women as
they walked by.  Once there had been a woman who worked in an orphanage he
was in, but she was old and irritated all the time.  Boys and girls weren't
allowed to mix in the orphanage, eating at separate times and playing
outside at different times too.  So the only women he ever saw were the
ones out the windows and the ones who he was invisible to.  They hadn't put
him on display for adoption for a long time now.  He knew it was years, but
not how many.

   Bobby heard voices ...  lots of voices ...  the voices of children, and
the clatter of plates and spoons.  He was puzzled now, but at least it was
warm inside.  He sat down gingerly on a chair in the hallway, looking at
the woman to see if she'd yell at him for sitting there to wait for her. 
He sat just on the edge, trying not to get the fabric on the chair dirty.

   Mavis looked at him, her head cocking sideways like the partially done
carving in his bag.  "Don't sit there," she said, meaning he should sit at
the table with the rest.

   Bobby jumped up immediately and sat on the floor next to the chair.  He
made sure not to lean against the wall, which was covered with floral
wallpaper.

   Mavis' eyebrows rose.  "Whatever are you doing?" she asked.  "It's
supper time.  Don't you want supper?  Did you eat already on the train?"

   Bobby's eyes darted around.  Something was wrong here.  She couldn't be
talking to him, but he was the only person in the hallway except for her.
He looked up to see her hand stretched out toward him and flinched before
he could control it.

   Mavis knew uncertainty and ...  yes, fear when she saw it.  Her knees
went weak as she realized the poor boy was afraid she was angry at him. 
Her heart broke yet again and she sniffed, trying to control her feelings.

   "Don't be afraid," she said, her eyes filling again with tears.  "I
won't hurt you.  You're safe now.  Come on.  Come with me.  Let's get you
something to eat."

   Bobby reached tentatively for the hand that was offered to him.  He
marveled at how soft her skin felt.  He had no way of knowing that she had
thick calluses on her hands from laundry and dishes and hauling coal for
the stove and all the other things there was no man around to do.  They
felt soft to him.

   He followed, being led by his hand as she turned a corner into a large
room with a huge table in it.  There were children sitting all around the
table, some on stacks of books that got them high enough so they could
reach their plates.  There were four adults around the table too, some
standing, and some sitting.  One was feeding a baby who sat in a high
chair.

   Most of the eyes of the children turned and fixed on him.  All but the
eyes of the woman feeding the baby locked on him too.

   "Children?" said the woman who had taken him from the train station. 
"This is Bobby.  He has come to live with us for a while."

   Bobby thought of himself as a tough kid.  He had gone up against boys
bigger than himself for most of his life.  He knew how to steal, and how to
lie and how to cheat.  He knew where to hit a boy to take him out of the
fight instantly.  He could write quite well and read even better.  He
thought he could take anything anybody could throw at him.

   But this ...  this was something he didn't know how to deal with.

   By our standards the table was set modestly.  There was a bowl of mashed
potatoes, a bowl of green beans, a bowl of corn and a platter piled with
gravy-covered brown meat.  There were pitchers of some light brown liquid
and that liquid was in some of the glasses set around the table.  Other
pitchers had milk in them and water.  There was what had been a loaf of
bread on a wooden board, with a knife lying beside it.  And each child had
his own plate, with food on it.  Most of the children were chewing, or had
food poised on a spoon between plate and mouth.  One little boy had a piece
of meat in the fingers of both hands, tearing at it with his teeth, his
mouth circled with brown juices where the gravy had smeared his skin.  He
looked at Bobby curiously as he jerked his head to tear off a piece of
meat, which he began to chew vigorously.

   To Bobby's eyes there was a feast spread on the huge table ...  more
food than he'd seen in a long time.  He jerked his eyes away from the food,
assessing his surroundings.  The adults were all women.  There were no men
present.  No uniforms.  No sap being slapped into a palm from time to time
as an adult patrolled the eating area.

   Bobby looked around, looking for the men who had to be there, ready to
grab him and beat him if he made a wrong move.  His eyes were a little wild
as he looked for the danger he knew had to be there somewhere.

   One of the women spoke.

   "Mavis?  He's almost a man!  What's going on here?"

   So that was the woman's name.  Mavis.  Bobby looked at her, to see what
she'd do.

   "Yes, there was some kind of mistake.  They sent him here without even a
coat!  Lands sakes, I was afraid he'd freeze solid before I could get him
here.  I don't know what we're going to do with him.  He can't talk.  I
don't think he's had anything to eat either."

   At that she looked at Bobby, whose hand she still held, and who was
still clutching his bag in his other hand.  She dropped his hand and
reached for the bag.

   "Let me just take that Bobby, and we'll get you something to eat."

   Bobby didn't know what to do.  This all seemed too unreal to him.  He
knew he wasn't dreaming, but this was all wrong in his experience.  He
clutched his bag closer to him, acting on instinct.

   Another woman stood up.  "Mavis the poor thing's scared to death!" She
moved toward Bobby.  "He thinks you're going to take his things."

   Bobby looked at the woman, who was perhaps a little younger than Mavis.
She had a more matronly look to her.  She came up to him slowly, as if
approaching a wild animal.

   "Bobby?" she said, her voice soft and mellow.  "I have a boy about your
age.  He's off in the war.  Let me just put your things right over here."
She patted an empty chair along the wall.  "We'll just set them right here
while you eat.  Nobody will bother them.  Aren't you hungry Bobby?" Her
voice had taken on a high note, as if she were talking to a stray dog,
trying to get the dog to come to her to be petted.

   "He can't talk, Donna," said Mavis again, as if no one had heard her
before.

   "Well," said the woman named Donna.  "You don't need to talk to get some
food in you, now do you?  Come along, Bobby, we'll make you a place. 
Please?  Will you eat something for me?"

   Stranger and stranger was how Bobby felt things were getting.  The woman
was actually asking him to eat, like it would be a favor to her.  An old
fairy tale Bobby had heard when he was little, and still had a mother, came
to mind.  It was about a boy and girl who were invited into a house made of
Gingerbread.  The woman who invited them in intended to cook them and eat
them, but she tempted them with food.

   Still, they were all eating the food ...  even the adults ...  and he
was ravenous.  The food smelled so good ...  looked so good.

   One of the women got up and left, going to what Bobby supposed was the
kitchen.  She came back with another plate and glass and spoon.  There was
a general scooting of chairs, the adults helping move chairs with children
still in them.  One little girl, about seven, got down and pulled her own
chair aside to make room for another one.  She stared at Bobby with serious
eyes and then climbed back up on her chair.  Donna got another chair from
against the wall and inserted it into the hole and Bobby sat down.

   It was just natural that, when he sat down, Bobby sat and looked at his
empty plate.  In the places he'd lived somebody put food on your plate.  If
you reached for food you got the sap.  Another of the women poured some of
the brown liquid into his glass.

   "It's just tea," she said, sounding apologetic for some reason.  "We
don't have sugar, of course." Nobody had sugar because of the war.  Even
Bobby knew that.

   All the eating had slowed to a stop, with the exception of the little
boy with the meat in his fingers, who was still chewing industriously on
the bite he'd already torn off.

   Donna spoke over Bobby's shoulder.  "Patrick, how many times have I told
you not to eat with your fingers?  If you want your meat cut up all you
have to do is ask.

   The boy smiled and swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing as he forced the
meat in his mouth down.

   "Like it this way," he piped.

   "Yes, dear, but it's not civilized," said Mavis.  "You need to learn
your manners if you want somebody to take you in."

   The boy's jaw jutted slightly.

   "Like it here," he said simply.  Then he promptly put the piece of meat
to his mouth and began worrying another hunk off.

   Bobby couldn't believe the conversation he'd just heard.  The boy had
sassed and nobody had beaten him ...  not even a slap!

   "Go on Bobby," said the mellow voice of Donna in his ear.  "Eat
something."

   To his astonishment, the little girl who had moved her chair stood up on
it, reached for the bowl of corn not far away, and handed it to him.  Bobby
didn't know what to do.  He expected the girl to be disciplined for
touching the food bowl, but it was obvious she expected him to take if from
her.  In HER defense he took the bowl, so that by the time an adult got
there it wouldn't be in her hands.

   At the same time he realized there WAS an adult standing right behind
him, and she had made no move to slap the girl.  There was a large spoon in
the bowl.  Tentatively Bobby took the spoon and scooped up ten or fifteen
kernels of the gold food on the tip.  He tensed as he transferred that to
his plate, still expecting violence.

   "Gracious sakes, boy, no wonder you're so thin," said Mavis.  "You'll
never grow strong eating like that!"

   In an odd way, the censure in her voice, even though it wasn't angry,
was something that Bobby expected and was comforted to hear.  He was used
to censure.  And yet, it was clear from her statement that she expected him
to take MORE!

   It took another five minutes, and Bobby knew now that he was in some
kind of supremely realistic dream.  Hard as it was to believe, it became
clear that, as long as there was food left, he could have as much as he
wanted.  He had arrived while supper was well in session, and the smaller
children had already had most of what they'd eat, so the food in the bowls
on the table was, for the most part, available to Bobby.  Still wary, his
eyes darted this way and that as he accepted the bowls that were passed to
him.  When the food on his plate was eaten and the bowls were passed to him
again, he couldn't believe it, but took more anyway, now just trying to
take advantage of his luck.

   One of the women across the table was a pretty young woman with short
straight bouncy blond hair, like the flappers had made popular in the
twenties.  She watched Bobby shoving food into his mouth and finally spoke.

   "Mavis, this boy is going to eat us out of house and home."

   Mavis swallowed some of her own food and chided the woman.  "Meg, don't
make the poor thing feel bad.  I suspect he hasn't eaten in a while."

   The little girl next to Bobby stood up on her chair again and strained
to reach the bread, which hadn't been passed to Bobby yet.

   "Emily!" said Donna, who, for some reason, was still standing behind
Bobby.  "You know better than to reach like that.  Ask someone to pass it
to you."

   Emily, who had managed to get her thumb and finger on the platter, and
had dragged it toward her, took it in both hands and presented it to Bobby.
"You need a bath," she said seriously.

   "Emily!" scolded the woman Mavis had called Meg.  "Where are your
manners tonight?"

   Another little girl put her spoon down and spoke.  "The Umpelty Oog got
her manners."

   Mavis took a drink of tea.  "Constance, I've told you a hundred times
... there is no such thing as an Umpelty Oog.  He's all in your imagination
dear."

   Constance looked at Bobby with the same serious expression Emily had. 
"The Umpelty Oog lives in the closet.  He comes out at night and scares
us."

   Bobby tried to chew and smile at the same time.  He couldn't help
smiling.  She sounded so serious.  He wiped the smile off his face quickly,
though, before an adult could see it.  Adults didn't like smiles.

   "That's nonsense," pronounced Mavis, but she smiled.

   Patrick had managed to swallow another glob of meat.  He put the mangled
piece of meat in his hands on his plate, almost daintily, and reached for
his glass with both hands and the woman next to him put two fingers under
it as it slipped in his greasy fingers.  She kept her fingers there as he
gulped milk.  He set the glass back down as the woman deftly removed her
supporting fingers as if it were the most normal thing in the world.  Bobby
stared at the smudges on the glass and then at the moustache of white that
was on the boy's upper lip.  Patrick wiped it away with his sleeve.

   "I seen the Umpelty Oog one night.  Wasn't skeered." He stuck out his
chest, proud that he had faced the horror of the night like a man.

   "Fairy tales!" snorted Mavis.

   One of the women who hadn't spoken yet wiped her lips with the corner of
a napkin.  She had been eating with one hand and spoon feeding a baby with
the other.  "Well, I wouldn't mind if the Umpelty Oog visited my house some
night," she said.

   Mavis almost choked on the food in her mouth.  "Why Prudence Watson, you
hussy!"

   The woman named Prudence laughed.  Her laughter made something deep
inside Bobby want to twist and wriggle.  She had auburn hair, and big
thrusting breasts that strained the fabric of her dress where it covered
them.

   "Well if Harold can find some tart in France to leave me for, then at
least I should get some kind of compensation, don't you think?"

   Mavis looked sad, but then frowned.  "That's no excuse to talk that way
in front of the children," she said.  "Your husband is fighting a war, and
he's a long way from home.  I know that's no excuse for being unfaithful to
you, but that's no call for you to talk like a common whore."

   Prudence got red in the face.  "He's not being unfaithful to me Mavis.
He told me in no uncertain terms that he's not coming back when the war's
over.  He's going to stay there with his French bitch and leave me all
alone.  As far as I'm concerned we're divorced and I can let any man in my
bed I want to!"

   Mavis's face had gone pale.  She was visibly trying to control herself.
"Mrs.  Watson, I will NOT have that kind of talk at the dinner table, and
ESPECIALLY not in front of the children.  We all know how difficult this is
for you, and our hearts go out to you, but I will not tolerate that kind of
talk in polite company."

   Prudence ducked her head.

   "Of course, Mavis.  I'm sorry.  I have no idea what got into me," she
said.

   Donna suddenly laughed, and her laughter got harder and harder until she
had to sit down.  She did so right on top of Bobby's burlap bag, on the
chair behind her.  She bruised her buttocks on the carving in the bag and
jumped back up, laughing harder still.

   "What in the world's gotten into you?" said Mavis, starting to smile
herself.  When someone laughs that hard it's just natural to want to laugh
with them.  The other women around the table were smiling now too and even
some of the children.

   Donna laughed so hard she started coughing.  Eventually she calmed and
then giggled, holding her stomach until she could talk.  "I'll get in
trouble if I tell you." Then she started laughing again.

   Meg giggled in sympathy.  "Come on, tell us.  We could all use a good
laugh."

   "It's horrible." She giggled again nervously.

   "What?" asked Prudence.

   Donna took a deep breath, visibly trying to control her giggles.  She
looked at Prudence.  "What you said ...  you said you didn't know what got
into you.  And I couldn't help but think what you HAVEN'T gotten in you
lately." She giggled again.  "and then Mavis wanted to know what's gotten
into ME and I couldn't help but think about what hasn't gotten into ME
lately either!"

   She started cackling again, great heaving sobs of gut laughter as the
women around the table came to the realization that she was talking about
sex.  It was too ludicrous not to be funny.  Soon the room was filled with
rueful laughter as the children looked on uncomprehending.

   CHAPTER TWO

   There were five women at Milleson House.  They were the permanent staff
members of the boarding-house-turned-orphanage.  Three of them had served
guests when it was a boarding house.  The other two had been hired on when
the children arrived, and had been there now for three years.

   Mavis Milleson, the owner, was forty years old and a widow.  They had
only been married for four years when her husband was killed in a mining
accident.  They had been unable to have children and, before he died, he
had taken her to an orphanage back east to try to find a child for her to
rear.  That trip had been an eye opener for Mavis.  She had been disgusted
at the conditions the poor children had to endure, and had wanted to adopt
them all.  Her husband talked some sense into her, but the process wasn't
even yet started to adopt a pair of children when he was killed and it all
fell apart.  She knew how those children were treated in the state-run
institutions, and when she found out she might be able to rescue some of
them she jumped at the chance.  The fact that the Government subsidized her
rescue mission was just frosting on the cake.  Now Mavis couldn't even
contemplate any other life.

   Mavis, had she taken the time to pay attention, was still a handsome
woman.  Though there were a few gray hairs slipping into her thick hank of
dark brown hair, she didn't notice them because she usually wore her hair
up, in a bun.  And at bedtime, she was too tired to stare into the mirror.
The fact that she'd never had children, and was engaged in an active
lifestyle, had ensured that her body was still firm and slim.  Her breasts
weren't overly large and she had no need to wear the stiff undergarments
that were designed to support and control the sagging breasts of most women
her age.  Her waist was still thin and her hips swelled to make a perfect
place for her skirts to hang from.  There were men in town ...  before the
war anyway ...  who had gazed longingly on those hips as she walked to and
from the market.  There were men who had stayed in her boarding house who
were interested in her too.  But she'd never taken the time to treat any of
that interest seriously.  She thought herself a sensible woman, and
sensible women didn't dwell on dimly remembered pleasures.  Just getting by
was work enough that when she went to bed she was too tired to think of her
unfulfilled physical needs.

   Donna Pratt was one of the women who had worked at Milleson when it was
a boarding house.  She was now thirty-three.  She married, at the tender
age of sixteen, an older man, a farmer her father had done business with.
Walter, her husband, had gotten her with child even though he was in his
fifties at the time, and she had given birth to and raised a fine son. 
Life on the farm had been good, for the most part, even though her aging
husband wasn't able to meet her sexual needs.  She had only known one
lover, and didn't really know what she was missing.  She had found, long
ago, that her fingers could bring her a very satisfying pleasure, though
she'd never admit to anyone that she did that in the dark of night.  She
had also done something with her husband she couldn't bear to admit.  When
he was unable to achieve an erection any more, her love for him had led her
to take him into her mouth.  While he never got hard enough to service her
starving pussy, she loved hearing his moans and gladly sucked the few drops
of sexual nectar he could produce in those days.  He had died peacefully in
his sleep one night just before her son had decided to join the Army and go
fight the Hun.  She still lived on the farm, though she didn't work it. 
She rented out the land and took a share of the profit.  Perhaps, when her
son came back from the war he would work the land.

   If he came back from the war.

   Donna had grown into a lush figure, with large firm breasts and hips to
match.  She had never quite been able to get rid of the pad of flesh on her
stomach that was left over after her son was born, but it didn't bother her
any more.  She, too, had been sought by men in the small community, but had
rebuffed their attentions, choosing to enjoy her freedom to do what she
wanted, when she wanted.  Not that there was much to do.  Still, it was
nice to know she was under no man's thumb.  The only real regret she had
was that she had never had more children.  When Mavis began taking waifs
in, that urge abated somewhat.  She was able to take care of babies, the
thing she loved most, and even though they weren't hers, it was enough.

   The other veteran of the boarding house phase of Mavis' life was
Prudence Watson.  Prudence was the only one of the women who had gone on to
college after High School.  She was ahead of her times in that society,
being a confident woman who was willing to go up against a man to get what
she wanted.  The Depression had ruined that for her when her father, a
successful merchant, lost everything and he could no longer afford her
tuition.  She had had to come back to Hamptstead, where she got a job
working for Mavis.

   She accepted the attentions of George Watson, primarily because he spent
money on her that her parents couldn't.  Love grew grudgingly.  He wasn't
an imaginative man, but he had a job and there wasn't really anybody else
in town she was attracted to.  And, while he didn't make her heart flutter,
he made her loins ache and she was tempted on many occasions to give in to
his repeated attempts to claim her maidenhead.  He was twenty-three to her
twenty-two years in age and when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor and he
decided to join up, she had, in a fit of emotion, married him before he
left.  After a thoroughly unsatisfying and somewhat brutal loss of her
virginity, in succeeding sexual unions she had managed to get to the point
where she had an orgasm while George lay on her gasping as he tried to get
her pregnant before he left.  But there had been just that one orgasm, at
least with George.  She too had figured out that her fingers were an
acceptable replacement for what her husband was now using on some French
slut who had stolen him away from her.  She knew, at age 26, and with no
children, she'd be a good catch for some man, but that was only if she
somehow disencumbered herself from George.  His letter saying he wasn't
coming home might get her a divorce, but it would be horrifyingly
embarrassing to go through that.  All people would see was a young woman
trying to divorce a GI, and would think her distastefully unpatriotic. 
More than once she'd wished he'd be killed in the war, which would make her
situation quite secure.  She also felt guilty about that on more than one
occasion.  Whenever that happened she just took his letter out and read it
again.  That solved that problem.

   George's best attempts to impregnate her had failed.  Prudence was torn
between yearning to have her own babies, and being happy that he didn't
leave her with child, considering what he'd now done.

   Meg Johnson had come to work for Mavis after the war started, and after
the boarding house had been transformed into an orphanage.  She was
eighteen on December the seventh, nineteen forty-one, and under extreme
pressure from her wealthy parents to find a suitable man and settle down.
Their idea of a suitable man and hers were widely diverse.  Meg had a
streak of wild woman in her, cultivated by stories her aunt Melvina told
about the prohibition years, and the gin mills and dancing with men who
pressed themselves against a girl in a way that made her want to do
unseemly things with them.  Aunt Melvina had an old box of photographs that
she kept in her closet and one day Meg got into them.  At the very bottom
was a picture of her aunt at about age nineteen.  She was standing in a
forest, by a huge rock, with a large body of water in the background, and
she was completely naked.  She was obviously completely unembarrassed about
her nakedness, based on the smile on her face, and the fact that she was
obviously posing for the photograph.  Aunt Melvina had caught her looking
at the picture and had, at first, scolded her, telling her that a thirteen
year old girl had no business seeing photographs like that.  But eventually
aunt Melvina had told her the story of the handsome man who had taken that
picture, and what they'd done after it was taken.

   Meg had wanted to experience what she had seen in her aunt's face, and
heard in her aunt's voice ever since that day.  But she didn't want to
experience it with the men her parents thought were "suitable".  They were
stuffy, self-important men who expected her to blush and flutter around
them.  All she did was think they were boring.  She wanted a wild man, a
western man, perhaps.  Someone who would sweep her off her feet and make
her life glorious.  Then, perhaps, when she had tasted that sweet forbidden
pleasure, she might be willing to settle down with a boring man.

   The war gave her a reprieve, since most of the "suitable men" went off
to be officers in the service.  And working for Mavis not only convinced
her parents that she was trying to be responsible and support the war
effort by taking care of the unfortunate.  Meg had learned something else
from her aunt, and that was what the little bump at the top of the slit
between her legs was for.  It was for making her feel good until she found
the man who would sweep her off her feet.  She kept that little bump in
good working order by using it every single night.  Part of her employment
contract was that she was supplied with a room in the house, and meals,
which got her out of under the thumb of her parents, at least most of the
time.

   And, Meg found that she had something to offer the children.  She loved
to read to them, and became expressive when she did, making up voices for
the characters in the stories she read.  It wasn't at all unusual for all
the children in Milleson House, except for the babies, anyway, to be in a
pile around her feet, like a litter of puppies cuddling together, while she
read stories until it was bedtime.  More often than not the only reason she
stopped was because Mavis made her stop.

   Last, among the women, not only in this story, but in real life as well,
was Sally Winston, age twenty-three.  Sally was, in a word, plain.  She had
always been plain, and would probably always be plain.  Her nose looked a
little off center, or maybe her eyes were too close set.  Her hair was thin
and a mousy brown color.  She couldn't afford the special soaps that might
have made it shine more, and it hung limp to her shoulder blades because
she didn't know how to style it.  Her father was a mill worker who made
enough to feed his eleven children, of which Sally was the youngest, but
couldn't save anything for his retirement.  Her mother was a walking
talking baby machine who was thin and worn from taking care of so many
children.  Now, with only Sally left, they could relax, but that was about
all they did.  They too were singularly uninteresting and uninterested. 
Sally had lived at home because no men came calling to see her.  She helped
her mother around the house, and took the job Mavis offered her at church
one day because she didn't have anything else to do.  She also took it
because it came with a room and board.

   As the youngest, Sally had never had to take care of her brothers and
sisters.  She had always been on the low end of the totem pole and had
learned, like Bobby, to be invisible as much as possible.

   But working with the children had awakened something in her that had
slowly bloomed over the years into a quiet pride that told her, if no one
else did, that she was good with children.  She also listened when Meg read
stories, and put herself in those stories as deeply as the children did. 
She read the books on her own too.  When she was in the fantasy world of a
book her life had color and excitement.

   Sally had a certain amount of scholarly knowledge about sex and how
children were made but, to her own mind, she had never had a sexual feeling
in her life.  Her breasts were flat, mere swells on her bony chest.  Her
pubic hair was so sparse as to be almost invisible.  She bled, more or less
monthly, like other women, but her cycle was nowhere near regular or
dependable.  It was almost as if her body had suspended its glide toward
maturity while she was right in the middle of puberty.  And, with so many
older brothers and sisters, who pursued their own agendas in the household,
it was as if she were invisible as she grew up.

   Not that she was sad, or unhappy, particularly.  It was more like she
was a child who had been kept in a small room all her life, exposed to
nothing much, and so she had no concept of what life could be like.  True,
she had been exposed to more than most with all her reading, but to her
that was a dream, a fantasy ...  not real somehow.

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

   The women watched in awe as Bobby kept eating.  At some point it became
a game, to urge him to eat more, just to see if he could.  There were
occasional surges of vocal emotion at seeing the boy eat like he had been
starved for years.

   "Lands sakes!"

   "I can't believe it."

   "The poor thing's starved half to death!"

   "Take your time Bobby, nobody's going to take it away."

   "Well, no leftovers tonight," said Mavis, standing up and picking up her
plate.

   "If you ask me there'll be no leftovers ever again," snorted Donna.

   "That's fine," said Mavis evenly.  "I always strain to think of ways to
use leftovers anyway.  But we'll have to go to town more often." Even
though the merchant area of Hampstead was only a few blocks away, they all
referred to that short trip as "going to town".

   As for Bobby, he knew he would suffer for what he was doing.  Once, when
a truck had overturned near the orphanage he was staying in, he had picked
up eight apples off the road while the driver screamed at him.  He had run
with the apples, eating one as he pounded away.  Then he had hidden and
eaten all the rest.  He still remembered the sweet juicy taste of the
fleshy fruit, and the agonizing pains in his suddenly overfilled stomach as
he lay in the punishment room on a thin mattress that night.

   But the food was so good he couldn't make himself stop eating it.  That
he was allowed to do so, and was even handed a knife to cut his meat with,
caused a haze in his brain he couldn't quite see through and some part of
him still expected to feel a blow as someone finally noticed that he was
eating more than his share.  He was almost glad when Meg tipped the bowl of
green beans over his plate, scraping out the last eight or ten beans. 
There was no more food in sight, and he could sit back.

   He was so stuffed that he didn't want to move, and gave a long sigh.

   "Well" said Mavis.  "You can't eat like that at every meal.  You'll turn
into a pig if you do.  But we're glad to have you with us Bobby.  I hope
you'll feel at home here."

   Bobby sat and wished he hadn't eaten so much.  His stomach felt bloated
and he was already uncomfortable.  He watched as the children who were old
enough all carried their plates into the kitchen, where the woman who
hadn't spoken yet took them and stacked them in the sink.  The cleanup was
surprisingly quick and efficient.

   "Bath night!" sang Prudence.

   Bobby almost winced as the children erupted in shouts.  "Bath time" in
his memory consisted of being hosed down with cold water while you scrubbed
with lye soap frantically, since the water wouldn't stop until the
attendant thought you were clean.

   But these children were jumping up and down, for the most part and he
saw several of them dash into the parlor.  They came back with books in
their hands and clustered around Meg, holding the books up and crying "This
one!" or "Read this!" among other things he couldn't quite make out.

   Donna approached the group and began herding some of the children into a
group as they complained.  Bobby watched in amazement as he began to
understand that one group would be taken to bathe while the other would be
read to by Meg.

   Since nobody seemed to be paying any attention to him, he just sat and
watched.

   But somebody WAS paying attention to him.  One small pale girl stood
between the group that was settling to the floor, or had climbed up to sit
beside Meg on the settee where she sat, smoothing her skirts as books were
piled on her lap.  The girl looked uncertainly at the chattering children,
and then at Bobby, who sat, leaning back in his chair, still at the table.

   Slowly, almost like she was trying to sneak, she came to Bobby and took
his hand, from where it lay in his lap.  She pulled, looking somberly up at
him with big brown eyes.  He stood and she pulled him toward the group,
which had now quieted as Meg sifted through the books on her lap.  She
looked up and saw Bobby standing, his hand in the little girl's.

   She smiled.  "Sit down, Bobby.  I read to the children on bath night,
and you're welcome to join us." She looked at the little girl.  "Thank you
June Bug.  It was nice of you to invite Bobby." She pointed to a chair that
was just far enough away from the crowd of children that none of them
wanted to sit there.

   Bobby sat down and was astonished to find that June Bug immediately
crawled up on his lap.  She sat, her legs straight out, and leaned back
against his chest.

   Meg was staring at Bobby and the girl with a strange look on her face.
She saw the astonishment in Bobby's face and the placid look of something
close to contentment on the little girl's face too.

   "Bobby," she said quietly.  "June Bug doesn't talk either.  I think
you've made a friend."

   Bobby didn't know what to think.  This place was so strange that he had
no frame of reference on which to draw to decide how to act.  He found it
strange that a little girl would want to be his friend when they'd only
just met.  Always before he'd had to jump through all kinds of social hoops
to establish his place in the hierarchy of whatever place he was living in.
Sometimes that involved doing things for people.  Sometimes that involved
fighting.  Sometimes it involved comparing stories and the intricate social
dance that was casual conversation between people who are forced into close
contact with each other.

   But here, in this place where he had done nothing other than eat until
his stomach ached, where he had said not one word, somebody had drawn near
to him simply because he couldn't talk.  It was an amazing social
experiment that he'd never have thought of getting involved in, but which
was suddenly fascinating.  Not knowing what else to do, he decided to just
sit.  The little girl wasn't hurting anything.  As long as she didn't pee
on him or something he decided to just let her sit there.

   While Donna and Prudence herded the unlucky children chosen to be hosed
down first into another part of the house, Bobby sat and listened as Meg
chose a book, opened it, and began to read.

   He was entranced immediately.  No one had ever read to Bobby in his
life. Bobby knew what books were, of course.  They had been used at one
time or another in his education, which was based on the "Three Rs",
Reading, Riting and Rythmatic.  And, truth be known, Bobby was quite
proficient at all three of the basics.  That was primarily because, if one
did well in school, one received less abuse, but the result was the same as
if he had wanted to learn.

   He had once found most of a book in a trash heap.  It turned out to be
about four fifths of "Treasure Island".  It had been involved in a fire, so
both the front and back pages were missing.  Still, Bobby had been able to
figure out the basic idea of the book and he had been enthralled instantly,
comparing himself to Jim Hawkins.  There were a multitude of adults in his
life who fit the personalities of Long John Silver and his crew of pirates,
but the characters of people like Dr.  Livesey and Captain Smollet remained
a fantasy to him.

   The tattered book was taken from him and thrown out as punishment for
some forgotten misdeed.  Bobby had always wondered how it ended.

   Now, as Meg read a simple children's story, her lilting voice rising and
falling, changing as the characters in the story changed, Bobby found
himself transported in his mind, like reading Treasure Island had
transported him to a hot, wet, dangerous, jungle island in some far away
place when he read his book.

   It seemed like she had only been reading for a few minutes when six
naked and screaming children, wrapped in towels, came running into the
room. It was time to change over, and there were groans of dismay from the
children who had been listening, eyes wide and mouths hanging open, as Meg
read to them.

   June bug hopped down off Bobby's lap and again took his hand, pulling at
him.

   Meg spoke to Prudence, who was herding the six unwashed children in the
direction the naked ones had come from.  "June Bug has adopted Bobby," she
said.  Then her mouth froze in a look of almost agony as she realized what
she had said.  "Adoption" was a very special word in this house, and not to
be used flippantly.

   Oddly, though, neither June Bug nor Bobby seemed to have taken what she
said as she feared they might have.

   Prudence pulled at June Bug.  "Well, Bobby can't take a bath with you
little ones.  You'll just have to leave him here for now.  Don't worry,
he's not going anywhere."

   The little girl reluctantly let go of Bobby's hand and he sat back, glad
that he got to stay and listen to Meg read some more.

   Even though she started all over again, at the beginning of the story,
Bobby didn't mind.

   By now, Sally and Mavis had finished washing and drying the dishes, and
emerged from the kitchen with armfuls of clothing, which they dropped in a
heap on the floor.  The five children who had just come from their bath
unashamedly dropped their towels and dove into the pile, pulling out
clothes to wear.  They did so quietly, though, as Meg kept reading.

   Astonishment was the mood of the day for Bobby.  He watched as each
child picked something to wear and, when that was done, Mavis and Sally
picked up the rest and sat at the dining room table, folding those clothes
into neat stacks and listening themselves as Meg read.  Bobby estimated
that there must be three or four sets of clothing for each child present.
Only two children had tried to choose the same shirt to wear during the
dressing process, but their struggle was silently cut short as Sally took
the garment from them both, suggesting that if they fought over it, neither
could wear it.  Most of the clothing was too big for the children, and hung
off their small frames, but none of them seemed to care.  They were much
more interested in settling in to listen.

   Then, not long afterward, the whole hustle and bustle happened all over
again as the remaining children, also naked, ran into the room, chose
things to wear from the table and sat back down.  The two babies were taken
to the bath next, and it was then that Bobby realized he hadn't heard
screams coming from the part of the house where bathing apparently took
place.  Most kids yelled at the cold water splashing on them.  As Meg read
on, part of his attention listened to hear the babies crying as they were
bathed.

   But they didn't.

   When the babies were brought back, wrapped up in towels, carried by
Prudence and Donna, Meg closed the book to moans of dismay and pleas for
just one more page.  Mavis and Sally went into action, though, saying
"Bedtime" and "Early to bed ...  early to rise" and herding the children
toward the big wooden staircase that led to the upper reaches of the big
house.

   Meg looked uncertainly at Bobby.  "I suppose we should get you bathed
too," she said.  "I don't know how much you understand, but we'll manage.
OK Bobby?"

   Perhaps because he was so impressed with her reading, or for some other
reason Bobby couldn't have articulated even if he had admitted being able
to speak, he stood and followed the young woman as she went in the same
direction as the other children had been led.  He found himself taken to a
large room, with a large white enameled bathtub that sat on clawed feet. 
It was hot in the room, and Bobby saw immediately that the heat came from a
contraption that stood in one corner.  It looked a little like a wood
stove, also standing on clawed feet, with a fire box at the bottom and a
tall round tank above that.  There were pipes that went into the tank at
the top and out of the tank at the bottom.  The bottom pipe ran over above
the tub and ended in a spigot there.

   Meg opened the fire box and put in several pieces of coal from a bucket
nearby and then turned to the tub.  There was a small wet rag lying in the
bottom of the tub near the drain and she stuffed that into the drain hole
before turning on the tap.  Steaming water began pouring into the tub from
the tap.

   Meg stood up and let the water run as she faced Bobby.  "We have plenty
of hot water, so that's no problem." She pointed to a cake of white looking
soap on a windowsill above the tub.  "That's the soap, and there are towels
in the cupboard up heres." She laid her hand on the cupboard.  Will you be
OK?" she asked.

   Bobby just stood there.  He had a very dim memory from long ago of his
mother, and a tub like this, with warm water.  He hadn't had a bath in a
tub like this since that memory.  He felt a clutching sensation in his
stomach, but it wasn't from being overstuffed.  That one little memory
caused emotions to flow through him that were unwelcome.  He didn't want to
cry, certainly not in front of this woman, and he was perilously close to
crying.  That confused him and the safest thing to do was just stand still.

   Meg looked concerned.  "Bobby?  Do you need help sweetheart?"

   It was worse and worse, as far as Bobby was concerned.  Nobody called
him "sweetheart".  The warmth of the house ...  the food ...  the
acceptance of him by everyone without asking for anything from him ... 
June Bug's hand in his ...  it all flushed through him like a tidal wave
and he couldn't stop the tears that ran down his face.  He rubbed at them
furiously with his fists.

   Meg reacted like she'd have wanted someone to react.  She went to the
young man and hugged him, murmuring that it would be OK, and that she
understood, and that she knew this was all strange, but that everything
would be all right."

   Then, thinking that this poor boy was much more simple of mind than he
actually was, she began helping him disrobe for his bath.

   The roil of emotions in Bobby was cut sharply by the feel if Meg's
fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt.  Already in unfamiliar and
startling conditions, this added surprise was enough to keep him immobile
as her soft hands slid the shirt off his shoulders and arms, where it
dropped to the floor.  Her hands went to the frayed hemp rope that held up
his trousers and she worried the knot until it came loose.  then he felt
her fingers brushing the front off his loins as she undid the buttons of
his fly.  The pants, held up by nothing now, dropped, leaving him in his
ragged drawers.  Meg knelt and prodded him to lift one leg, talking
soothingly to him, words he didn't even listen to in his state of shock. 
But her soothing tone did what it was intended to do and he stood docile as
she pulled his drawers down and off, to leave him standing naked in the
bathroom.

   Meg felt her own measure of unusual and somewhat uncomfortable emotions
as she made the mute boy naked in front of her.  He was wiry, with a thin
cover of skin over muscles that, while not large, felt firm to her fingers.
He stank, as of stale sweat with a trace of dried urine.  It was quite
clear he had not bathed in a long while.  This supported her conclusion
that Bobby must have limited mental capabilities, something most people
assumed about a person who could not speak.  She was mildly curious about
his penis, having seen only those of boys ten years old and younger.  She
stared curiously at the thatch of kinky brown hair that made a bed for his
shriveled organ, and thought it looked a lot like her own pubic hair,
except for the color.  Meg was a natural blond and all her hair was the
same color.

   She stood to add cold water to the tub from another spigot that came
from the wall and tested it repeatedly until the temperature of the water
in the tub suited her.  Bobby stood, uncertainly, watching.  The hot water
amazed him.  There was no hose in sight, and that's what people used during
baths, so even though he knew what a bathtub was, he still wasn't sure that
this hot water and this tub were actually for him.  That question was
answered once and for all as Meg urged him to get into the tub.  The warm
water felt wonderful on his ankles, but that was nothing compared to the
feeling he felt as she convinced him to sit and the water rose up above his
legs, submerging them in welcome heat.  He was enjoying that so much that
he did nothing else but concentrate on the feeling.  She pressed something
into his hand and he saw it was the soap she'd pointed to earlier.  It
wasn't coarse and gray like the soap he was used to.  He lifted it to look
at it more closely and it felt slippery in his hand.  It smelled good too,
and he lifted it closer to his nose, breathing in.  It was amazing.

   Meg watched the boy - she no longer thought of him as a young man -
smelled the soap like it was the first time he'd ever done that.  She stood
back up and hissed as she saw the old, healed stripes on his back, remnants
of a whipping with a strap that he'd gotten when he was only ten and had
stolen bread from the kitchen in the institution he was housed in at that
time.  She felt a rush of mingled sympathy and red-hot anger as the
wide-eyed boy looked up at her in response to her disgusted response to the
scars.

   "Here," she said, reaching for the soap.  "Let me help."

   Bobby was sixteen, though he looked closer to fourteen or fifteen.  But
his body was that of a boy well into puberty.  While he had never had a
girlfriend, and his exposure to females had been severely restricted, his
body knew what to do when it felt a woman's soft hands sliding over it. 
Meg, while she thought of him as a poor simple minded boy, still realized
on some level that the body she was stroking was not only male, but well
grown.  HER exposure to men had also been limited, and while she had seen
the instinctive erections that all males have, they had always been on boys
who were so young that those erections, for the most part, more nearly
resembled one of her own fingers than what she would have thought of as "an
erect male organ."

   And so, when she had finished washing his smooth chest, and scarred
back, and told him to stand so she could do his legs, she was completely
unprepared for the change that had taken place in that shriveled penis she
had seen only moments before.

   Bobby had the sexual equipment of a full grown man.

   Meg stared in awe at the dripping erection that bobbed in front of her
eyes.  It looked huge to her, even though it was quite normal by comparison
to most men.  The tip was sheathed in a thin covering that Meg knew was his
foreskin.  She had seen plenty of those on the babies whose diapers she
changed.  Most of those had been wrinkled pointy things on the end of the
baby's penis that had to be skinned back and cleaned under during a diaper
change.

   But the one on Bobby's penis was stretched tightly over something that
bulged under it.  Meg's soapy hands reached for it before she thought about
what she was doing, and she grasped the penis firmly, sliding her hand
toward the base, to see what was under that tightly stretched skin.

   Bobby saw Meg's hand move to his penis, which he knew was hard.  It got
that way sometimes, and it felt different when it did that, but he hadn't
given it a lot of thought.  Even though his penis had taken on adult
features, living in orphanages, where there was no privacy at any time,
prevented him from finding out what most boys found out about their stiff
sexual organs.  Bobby had never played with his penis while it was hard.

   The feelings that resulted from Meg's soapy hand sliding along his penis
shocked Bobby to his core.  He had never felt anything that was like that.
A small sound forced itself out of his throat as her hand slid back toward
the tip.

   Meg was surprised to find that what was under the thin skin looked
pretty much like what was under a baby's foreskin.  It was MUCH larger, of
course, but the shape was about the same.  And, of course if felt different
in her hand.  It filled her hand, for one thing, something no younger
child's penis had ever done, and that made it feel completely new and
unique.  It was strangely hard and soft at the same time too, and that made
it very different than anything else she had ever felt.  She thought back
to what Prudence and Donna had laughed about at supper.  THIS was what
neither of them had had ...  in them ...  for so long.

   She realized suddenly what she was doing and opened her hand.  Then her
curiosity gripped her again and she slid her hand under the stiff organ to
cup Bobby's testicles.  While before she hadn't even noticed them, now she
felt them full and round under his penis.  They were much softer than they
initially felt and she squeezed them gently, feeling the harder, smaller
things inside.  Bobby's hips jerked as she squeezed too tightly and he
pulled away.

   She looked up to see him staring down at her, his mouth open.

   She felt her face get hot as she blushed.  "Sorry," she murmured.  "I'll
be more gentle, OK?"

   He made no response and Meg shook her head to clear it.  She became more
businesslike and washed his legs.  Her soapy hand slid up the inside of his
thigh in the back and she just naturally forced it between tightly clenched
buttocks to clean him there too.  He made another sound and bent forward
slightly, then stood back up, his butt cheeks clenching even more tightly.

   But she was done there and told him to sit back down.  The water was
grayish, so she turned on the hot water tap again and held a pitcher under
it, moving it to the cold tap to finish filling it.  She poured half of it
over his head as he sputtered and wiped his eyes and giggled at that as she
attacked his hair with the soap.

   "Keep your eyes closed tight," she warned as she kneaded his scalp with
her fingers.  Then when she was satisfied she began to pour the rest of the
water on his hair to rinse it, reminding him again to keep his eyes closed
tight.  He didn't sputter and spit this time.  She told him to keep his
eyes closed as she got another pitcher of rinse water and got all the suds
out of his hair.

   "OK, up and out," she ordered.

   Bobby, by now, was immensely happy about this bath, and didn't want it
to end at all.  His belly was full, and he was warm and her hands felt
wonderful sliding over his skin.  He looked for the soap, which she had put
back on the windowsill, and reached for it, trying to get her to wash him
again.

   Meg laughed.  "You're clean enough.  Now, out of there and let's get you
dried off."

   Reluctantly he stood and stepped out of the tub.  Meg ran the rough
towel all over his body, paying perhaps a little more attention to his
still stiff penis than was needed, and then threw the towel on top of a
pile of others in one corner of the room.  It suddenly occurred to her that
he had nothing to put on.  She looked at the clothing on the floor and said
"You can't wear that.  It will have to be washed."

   She was startled as he darted to the pants and picked them up, his hand
digging in the pocket.  It came out with a grimy and mangled toothbrush
that he held tightly in his hand as he dropped the pants back to the floor.
Then he just stood there again.  Simple though he may be, she couldn't let
him run out into the house like the other children did, especially since
there was nothing in the pile of clothes out there that would fit him.  She
remembered his burlap bag, and correctly assumed he had more clothing in
that.

   "You stay right here and I'll get you something to wear," she said.

   She left, closing the door at the feel of the much cooler air outside
the bathroom and went into the dining room, where his bag had been left. 
Only Mavis was there, the others having taken the children to their beds.

   "Where have you been?" asked Mavis.

   "I was giving Bobby his bath," said Meg, her mind on the burlap bag.

   "What!?" gasped Mavis.  "He's a grown man!"

   Meg stopped, her mind realizing what Mavis was thinking.

   "He may be grown, but he's a poor simple-minded boy inside," she said.
"He couldn't even undress himself.  He acted like he'd never had a bath in
his whole life!  I had to do something," she said.  "And now he's standing
in there naked with nothing to put on.  Where are the clothes he brought
with him?"

   Mavis found it easy to believe that Bobby was simple minded, and that
put him in the same category as a child in her mind.  She relaxed.

   "He didn't bring much.  No coat even.  That bag was all he had when he
got off the train," she said.

   Together they dumped the bag's contents on the table and then stared at
it in horror.  The shirt and pants were soiled, and the undergarments were
tattered.

   "What in the world is this?" asked Mavis, holding up what was obviously
a pair of women's underwear.

   "I have no idea," said Meg wonderingly.  "Do you suppose he stole them?"

   Mavis snorted.  "Where in the world would a boy like him find a pair of
those to steal?" she picked up his shirt and set it to one side.  His pants
followed.  "Though to be honest, if this is all he has I could understand
why he'd steal anything he could get his hands on."

   Meg picked up a wrinkled and bent tube of white.  "Why this is a
cigarette of all things!" she said.

   All that was left was the chocolate bar, bent now, and the lump of wood
that lay on the table.  Meg picked it up and turned it in her hands.  She
gasped as the dog's face was revealed.

   "What?" asked Mavis, peering at the thing in Meg's hand.

   "It's beautiful!" sighed Meg.  "Look, it's been carved.  It's
exquisite!"

   Mavis took it and admired the fine lines and realistic nature of the
carving.  "It IS beautiful" she agreed.  "But only part done.  Do you
suppose HE did this?"

   Together they pawed through the wretched pile of clothes on the table,
but found no knife.  It was a mystery they'd have to solve later.

   "We can't put him in these," said Meg distastefully as she poked at the
shirt and pants.

   Mavis put her hand to one breast.  "You know, I saved some of Randolph's
nicest things.  I couldn't bear to throw them out when he died.  His Sunday
shirts and such.  Now where did I put them?" She suddenly moved toward the
single bedroom that was on the ground floor.  Mavis retained that one for
herself.  Meg followed and saw Mavis get to her hands and knees and peer
under the bed.  She reached under, stretching, and pulled out a bundle,
wrapped in cloth.  Picking it up she laid it on the bed and undid the
strings tied around it.

   "This is them.  I kept them under my bed because it made me feel closer
to him when ..." She didn't finish.  It was too personal and she felt
foolish.  But now she was glad she'd saved these few things.  She lifted a
white shirt, and another that was dark blue with a white collar.  Under
them were two pairs of trousers, one wool and the other finely woven
cotton. Both were black.  There was a pair of suspenders folded neatly
between them.

   "He's smaller than Randolph, of course," said Mavis, "but we can alter
them to fit.  They'll have to do for now."

   Together they left the room, carrying the clothing with them.  Mavis
selected the white shirt and the cotton trousers to take to Bobby and,
together they went to the bathroom.  They opened the door to a cloud of
steam.  Bobby had re-filled the tub with hot water and was lying in it, his
head back, and his eyes closed, a wide smile on his face.

   It took them a while to coax him out of the tub.  The impressive
erection he had sported before had wilted again, from lack of continued
stimulation and the heat of the water.  When they got the shirt on him it
hung low enough to cover his penis and, since it was bedtime anyway, they
decided he didn't need the pants until morning.

   While Meg had bathed Bobby, Mavis had made some changes in the sleeping
arrangements.  She didn't want Bobby sleeping in a room with smaller
children.  He was too big, and she still didn't know his temperament.  So
she had put a third child in two more rooms, to make an empty bed for
Bobby. The children who were moved didn't mind.  It was an adventure to
them.  And quite often all the children cuddled together in one bed anyway,
like puppies, when they slept.  So one more just added a little body heat.

   Bobby, exposed to yet another astonishment as he was led to his own bed,
which was soft and had three quilts on it, and even a real pillow.  He was
alone, which made it seem a little like a punishment room, but it wasn't
anything like a punishment room in any other way.  He let himself be put
into bed.  He was so relaxed from the hot soak and everything else that had
happened that day, that his defenses were abated.  When the two women
kissed him on the forehead and wished him good night it was more than he
could take.  Tears leaked from his eyes as he rubbed them with his fists.
He wanted to say something, but knew that would ruin everything good that
had happened to him on this amazing day.  Instead he lay in the bed as the
women left the room and turned off the light.

   Mavis had tears running down her face too.  She had seen the scars on
his back while they clothed him, and his tears when he was in bed.

   "He breaks my heart," she said, her voice catching.

   "I know," said Meg.  "I know."

   CHAPTER THREE

   The next few days convinced Bobby that he was not in a dream.  He didn't
understand a lot of what went on, but he recognized that something
wonderful had happened to him.  He watched carefully, picking up
information on rules and regulations, which were actually just a way of
behaving that the women insisted on.  None of the children were ever
beaten, though the two youngest got swats on the butt occasionally.  The
way they cried made it sound like they'd been beaten, but Bobby knew what a
real beating was.

   That he had to help out around the house was a given, at least in his
mind.  One of his jobs was to replenish all the coal buckets for the
various appliances in the house that used coal.  That included the stove in
the kitchen, and another of those amazing water heating things that hung on
a wall above the kitchen sink.  It was smaller than the one in the
bathroom. Additionally there were small pot-bellied stoves set in various
places around the house.  Not every bedroom had one, though most did. 
Mavis had one in her bedroom and both of the women who lived in the house -
Sally and Meg - had stoves in their rooms.  There were ten coal buckets in
all that had to be filled daily.  The one in the bathroom only needed it
once, because, as it turned out, baths were only given once a week.  And
the buckets in the kitchen needed to be filled several times a day, since
those appliances were used more than the others, and laundry was done
there.

   He was also pressed into service outside, once they went to town and
found him clothing and a coat to wear.  The local church collected clothing
for them, and when it was learned that a simple-minded young man had
arrived the donations increased.  Suddenly Bobby had more clothing than he
had a place to put it all.  His bag was soon full and it took Prudence half
an hour to convince him that it was all right to put his clothes on the
shelf in his room.  He had tried to touch nothing in the room other than
the bed, because he still assumed that this room belonged to someone else
and he didn't want to be thrown out of this amazing place for stealing or
doing something wrong.

   He found that all meals were like the one he'd walked in on, and that he
didn't have to gorge because they got fed three times a day.  And in the
evening, every other night, Meg usually, but sometimes Donna or Prudence,
read to the children from books.  Bobby had looked into the parlor, where
those books came from, and was astonished to see two whole shelves of them,
some thick, most thinner.  He'd been afraid to touch them and left
immediately, his fingers itching to caress them and read what was on their
spines.

   He found that pantomiming what he wanted was fairly easy, and his
new-found habit of not talking got easier and easier as the need to talk
waned.  His needs thus far had been simple.  He had far more now than at
any time in his life he could remember.

   He'd been at Milleson House for four days when Meg approached him.

   "Bobby?  That carving in your bag.  Did you do that?"

   Bobby wasn't surprised that they'd gone through his bag.  When he'd
reclaimed it on his second day and gone through it himself, only the
cigarette was missing.  He didn't blame someone for stealing it.  He hadn't
really wanted it anyway.  You just never turned down anything someone
offered you.

   He nodded his head.

   "It's beautiful Bobby.  Why didn't you finish it?" asked Meg.

   Bobby pantomimed a knife, opening and closing and then threw it away
from him.

   "You threw away your knife?" asked Meg, confused.

   Bobby couldn't make her understand that it had been stolen from him.  He
saw a piece of paper on the table, with a pencil nearby, where Mavis had
been making a shopping list.  He went to the table, flipped the paper over
and wrote on the back.

   "They steal."

   He held up the paper and Meg looked like she might faint dead away.

   "You can WRITE?!" she gasped.

   Bobby nodded.  Everybody could write, couldn't they?"

   Meg actually ran, yelling at the top of her lungs "HE CAN WRITE!  BOBBY
CAN WRITE!"

   Within minutes all five women were in the room, clustered around Bobby,
who thought now that he had made the fatal mistake that would get him
thrown out.  There was a general hubbub of noise as the women exclaimed
about this "amazing" ability in a boy they thought had the mind of a seven
or eight year old.  Each one examined the words Meg swore he had written.

   Finally Mavis held up her hands for quiet.  She turned to Bobby.  "Did
you write this?" she asked.  Meg snorted at being suspected of playing a
trick ...  or worse.

   Nobody looked angry and for once Bobby decided not to go with his
natural instinct to deny everything.  He took a chance and nodded.

   Mavis put the paper down and picked up the pencil, handing it to him. 
"Write something else."

   A lot of things went through Bobby's mind at that instant.  He didn't
know what they wanted, or what would be the "right" thing to write.  He
thought of the safest thing and, more slowly than he needed to, wrote:

   "Bobby" and then, as an afterthought, beside that, "thank you".

   To the women it looked like he had tried to write a sentence: "Bobby
thank you."

   If there had been hubbub before, there was a true celebration now.  Even
though the women still thought his mental age to be young, they had
elevated it to maybe ten or twelve, based on his ability to ALMOST write a
complete sentence.

   After that the level of baby talk directed toward Bobby went down and
the amount that he was expected to do around the house went up.  Not that
he was strained at all.  In fact he enjoyed the work he was assigned.  He
helped with the children, even feeding one of the babies for Donna one time
when there was a spill "disaster" at the table which involved changing the
clothes of two children and cleaning up the table, floor and two chairs.

   That night it snowed.

   Bobby had seen snow before, but never like this.  It was western
Nebraska, and it snowed two and a half feet.

   The next morning he awoke to stretch in his bed, warm and comfortable,
something he was gradually getting used to.  Sally, whose voice he had only
heard perhaps ten times in the six days he'd been at Milleson House, stuck
her head through the door and, in her soft lilt, said "Bobby, you're needed
to clear the snow."

   She was gone again almost immediately, expecting him to get up and do
whatever was necessary.  He rose and rubbed at the thick slick of frost on
the window.  His room was on the highest floor of the house, and through
the small clear space he'd made he saw a blanket of white that covered
everything for as far as he could see.  He quickly got dressed and went
downstairs.

   Breakfast at Milleson House was a casual affair.  Mavis got up early and
cooked, leaving the food on the stove to stay warm.  The children were fed
by one or two of the staff as they were pulled from their beds and dressed
by the others.  So they trickled into the kitchen in ones or twos, sitting
down and waiting until food appeared in front of them.  Bobby had learned,
to his further amazement, that it was all right for him to feed himself
whenever he came into the kitchen, and he did so this day, eating quickly.

   No adults were in the kitchen when he got there.  He had just finished
eating a strip of bacon when Mavis hustled in, already looking tired.

   "Bobby dear, Donna and Prudence are probably snowed in, since they
haven't arrived yet.  I need you to make a path to the street so that IF
they get here they'll be able to get to the house."

   Bobby nodded and dressed in the warm coat that was now his pride and
joy. It had belonged to Oscar Hammerschmidt, the banker in Hampstead, and
it had a real fur collar attached to the thick gray wool that made the coat
long enough that it went clear to Bobby's calves.  Another gift from the
people of Hampstead was a worn pair of cowboy boots, two sizes too large,
but, when stuffed with newspapers or socks, stayed on his feet and kept
them surprisingly warm as long as he didn't stay out in the cold too long.
Though down in the heel, they had been frequently oiled over their previous
life and were, for the most part, waterproof.  An old coonskin hat that
came from who knew where topped off his costume.  He'd never have worn it
back east, but it kept his head toasty warm ...  and this place was
different.

   Armed with a grain scoop provided by Mavis, Bobby attacked the snow,
which was thankfully light and fluffy.  Clearing a path to the street took
him only ten minutes, so he widened it and then expanded it along the edge
of the street in both directions.  Next he shoveled the snow from around
Mavis' car, which looked almost buried.  He knocked the snow off the car
and then had to shovel that away as well.

   He went back inside and filled all the coal buckets from the big coal
bin in the basement.

   After that he sat down at the table with a cup of hot tea and waited for
something else to do.  He automatically got food for the last few children
who straggled into the dining room.  Finally Mavis, Sally and Meg arrived
back in the kitchen and began to feed themselves and the two babies, who
they had gotten up last.

   Five minutes later Prudence stomped through the door, her skirt crusted
with snow.  She had put on an old pair of bloomers, which were also crusted
with snow and her high topped shoes were white with the snow frozen to
them.

   "Sorry," she said tersely.

   Mavis waved a hand.  "I'm amazed you got here at all.  Where in the
world did you find those?" she laughed, pointing at the white bloomers
under Prudence's skirt.

   "They're my mother's" said Prudence, grinning.  "I'm not quite ready to
wear slacks yet.  I thought they'd help.  Besides, it's only six blocks"
said Prudence, rubbing her calves.  "I can't feel my legs, though."

   It was Bobby who thought of the bathtub.  He went and added coal to the
fire they kept burning or banked at all times under the water heater and
blew the embers to make the additional coal catch.  Then he took the big
ash bucket, which he had emptied that morning, and washed it out before
filling it with hot water.  It was a three gallon bucket, made of tarnished
copper, but he was able to lug it out to the kitchen, where he set it on
the floor beside Prudence, who was eating.

   He pointed at the water, and then at her feet.

   "Why Bobby!" she squealed.  "How thoughtful!"

   She stood up and started pulling her bloomers off, reaching under her
skirt to pull them past her hips.  That required some rather significant
wiggling, since the waistline of the bloomers was under the waistline of
her skirt.  Then she had to sit to remove her shoes and pull them off her
feet.  In the process Bobby was treated to a long expanse of naked legs,
spread in a most immodest way that Prudence wasn't aware of because all her
attention was on getting her legs and feet bare so she could put them in
the hot water.

   Meg, however, noticed Bobby's wide eyes as he saw glimpses of Prudence's
bare thighs.  Not wanting to embarrass Prudence, Meg went to stand in front
of Bobby, her body blocking his vision.

   "Thank you Bobby" she said sweetly, swaying sideways as he automatically
tried to lean to one side to maintain his view of a real woman's naked
legs. "Won't you get her a towel too?"

   Bobby figured out what she was doing as he swayed back the other
direction and she went with him.  He grinned sheepishly and turned to go
get the towels.

   When he came back the women were discussing the fact that school had
been supposed to start back up after the Christmas vacation in two more
days, but now it was likely that would be delayed.  Bobby hadn't though
about school since arriving.  He'd been to both public schools and in
orphanages that had their own school.  He didn't like the public schools,
because everyone made fun of the orphans and he got into lots of fights. 
The orphanage schools were fraught with danger, but that was from adults,
not other students.  He wasn't excited about going back to school,
especially if he maintained his mute status.  He had no idea how that would
go, but he didn't have any reason to think it would be any fun.

   He spent the rest of the day taking the older children outside to play
in the snow.  It was deep enough, especially where he had piled it up with
his grain scoop, that he could get on his hands and knees and dig tunnels
in it for the younger children to crawl through.  They loved it.

   Ironically it was an adult who introduced the children to snowballs, and
not Bobby.  He had thrown a snowball one time that got him a week in the
punishment room, so he didn't think about using snow that way any more.  It
was Meg who came outside, dressed in a coat and dungarees.  She threw the
first snowball, and she threw it at Bobby, hitting him on his left hip.

   He turned to find her grinning at him and making another snowball, which
she also threw at him, but missed.

   "Betcha can't hit me," she taunted, trying to dart this way and that,
but foundering in the deep snow.  She laughed as she fell down, but
scrambled back up and made two more snowballs which she lobbed toward
Bobby, before he finally made one of his own.  He threw that one and she
turned her back, taking the snowball there.

   Then the war was on as the other kids mimicked them, and laughter rang
out all over the yard.  Everything went fine until, at one moment, with her
coat hanging open, Meg took one of Bobby's snowballs right in the gap
between the first button of her blouse and her chin.  The light snow
splattered, driving downward into her blouse and filling the cleavage in
her bra.

   Her look of amazement as she automatically bent forward in a vain
attempt to make the snow fall lower, and then her screech, sent bolts of
concern to Bobby's brain.  He had hurt an adult!

   Meg turned and ran into the house, and Bobby, not knowing what else to
do followed her.  He arrived to see her coat on the floor of the dining
room as she danced around.

   "It's so COLD!" she squealed.

   Mavis looked up from some mending she was doing.

   "Of course it's cold.  It's winter," she said calmly.

   "Noooo I got snow down my blouse!" squealed Meg.  Her arms suddenly
disappeared, like magic, as if they had been sucked into the blouse and
then her blouse looked like there were two raccoons wrestling under it as
she reached behind her to unclip her bra.  The garment dropped to the
floor, the empty cups upward and crusted with snow.

   "That's better," said Meg, shuddering as she stuck her arms back out the
arm holes of her blouse.

   Bobby stared.  In the heat of the room the melting snow had made the
front of her blouse wet, and her spiked nipples poked through the pale
cloth, dark enough to be seen through the fabric.

   Meg looked at Bobby's shocked face, and then down at the two prominent
bumps on the front of her blouse and blushed.

   "Perhaps I should go put on another blouse," she said.

   Mavis laughed.  "Unless you want to put ideas in that boy's head I'd say
you're right."

   Meg bent over and picked up her bra and then dashed for the stairs, and
her room on the second floor.

   Bobby, astonished yet again that no one was mad at him for what had
happened, turned and went back outside to keep an eye on the other
children.

   At supper that night Bobby felt like Meg looked at him somehow
differently than she had before.  She didn't look angry, but she looked at
him more often.  He was wary of looking back at her.

   That night was bath night.

   Bobby settled into a chair while half the kids were whisked off to the
big tub and Meg selected a book to read to the others.  June Bug
immediately crawled up on his lap and leaned back.

   Meg had decided to begin (probably for the fourth or fifth time since
she'd worked at the home) Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the
Looking Glass.  A few of the older children had heard the story before, but
that didn't matter.  Bobby was hooked immediately as Meg's hypnotic voice
began the tale of the little girl and the strange characters she interacted
with.

   He didn't notice as the bath shift changed, and June Bug crawled down
off his lap, to be replaced by Emily, who settled in just as comfortably as
June Bug had.

   "You're not stinky tonight" she commented.  Bobby wanted to laugh. 
Since the last bath night Emily had sat on his lap at least four or five
times.  Some nights it was while someone read to them on the cold evenings.
On other nights the big Motorola radio was turned on.  The adults huddled
around it, listening to Walter Winchell or someone else report on the war.
Some nights they listened to the Inner Sanctum, or The Shadow, which held
both the children and adults in thrall as they listened to the drama play
out.  Bob Hope was another favorite, though again, mostly with the adults.
Emily sat on his lap then too, if June Bug wasn't already there, huddling
against him during tense moments in the dramas.  She had never mentioned
his ...  odor ...  during those nights.  But, it being bath night again,
she apparently felt compelled to comment.

   Meg looked up from the book.  "Emily, everybody has to take a bath,
whether they need one or not."

   Emily smiled "I know.  I just like the way he smells," she said,
snuggling against him and pulling his arms around her.  She was still
wrapped in her towel, her hair damp.

   Donna dropped a towel on her head.  "You're not even dry yet, little
missy.  Dry off and get dressed or you'll catch your death of cold.

   "I want Bobby to dry me," whined the little girl.

   Meg's eyes widened a bit, then relaxed back to normal as Bobby picked up
the towel and ruffled the girl's hair with it.  Then he pushed her off his
lap and pointed to the pile of clothing, looking back at Meg, and then the
book in her hands, with a silent plea to keep reading.

   Meg went on reading from where she'd left off, even though the kids
listening now hadn't heard the beginning.  It didn't matter to them.  They
just loved huddling together while Meg's melodious voice lifted and fell as
she illustrated the characters with her voice.

   All too soon, at least as far as Bobby was concerned, the other children
were back, capering around naked as they picked out clothes from the pile
on the floor to wear to bed.  They dallied, knowing that, as soon as they
were dressed for bed, they'd be hustled off to cold sheets in dark rooms.
He wanted to groan as Meg's slim-fingered hands closed the book and she
stood up.

   "Your turn Bobby," she said, looking at him with a glint in her eye.

   Bobby followed her, almost eagerly, this time, to the bathroom.  His
memory of the last time this had happened to him caused him to react before
they even got there.a He knew he should take his clothes off, but he also
knew that, if he didn't, she would take them off for him.  He had enjoyed
that last time, so he stood and waited as she filled the tub with hot
water.

   The glint was still in her eye when she turned and began unbuttoning his
rough shirt.  They had found him a pair of suspenders somewhere, which had
replaced the rope he used to keep his over-sized pants up, and when she
pushed the straps off his shoulders his pants fell like they had lead
weights in them.  They caught on his stiff prong, which bent downwards
until the pants were dragged off of them, and then sprang upward again to
slap his abdomen with an audible sound.  It settled then, bobbing in the
air as Meg looked down at it.

   She knelt, her eyes glued to his organ, as her hands reached to make him
lift a foot out of the pants.  It bobbed again as he did that, and kept
moving as he lifted his other foot too, placing it to one side.  Meg
breathed in and found his odor to be much nicer than last time, like Emily
had said.  She found herself breathing deeply as she stood back up and
pushed Bobby's shirt off his shoulders, to leave him standing naked in
front of her.  She had the strangest urge to hug him ...  to feel his body
against hers, and blushed at her improper thought.

   "In the tub" she said, having to clear her throat.

   Bobby got in the tub and sat down, this time, without having to be told.
He looked up at the window sill, where the soap was.

   Meg felt her nipples tightening under her dress, something that usually
only happened when she was in bed, alone with her thoughts.  She felt the
urge to squeeze them, as she sometimes did in the dark, but resisted.  She
reached for the soap and got her hands frothy before she began sliding them
over the young man's shoulders and back.  Her sensitive fingertips felt the
welts and healed scars from his past beatings and her heart again melted at
the thought of what this poor boy had been through.

   "You're a handsome boy," she said, talking more to herself than to him
...  letting her thoughts flow.  "A strong boy," she murmured.

   Bobby looked at her and grinned.  Her hands felt so good sliding across
his skin that he felt an excitement that was both foreign and welcome at
the same time.  He thought about her hands on his penis last time and, when
that excitement built even more he suddenly stood up and faced her, his
hips jutting forward, his stiff penis pointing at her face where she knelt
by the tub.

   Meg was excited too.  She too remembered washing his erection last time.
His actions made it clear that, despite his simple-mindedness, he felt
pleasure, like other men.

   She looked up at him, his serious eyes looking down at her.

   "You like it when I wash you there?" she said.

   He nodded.

   Her hand came up and grasped his rod.  Both of them sighed as she
squeezed and ran her hand up and down its rigid length.  Her other hand
came up and cupped his balls.

   "This is handsome too," she said, staring at the head as it was
uncovered and then covered up again by the action of her hand.  She
squeezed his balls gently.  "And these ...  these are handsome." She
watched as his eyes half-closed in pleasure.  "Do you know what these are
for?" she asked, half out of curiosity and half to try to establish his
mental level.

   Bobby had some vague images in his mind that were based on talk among
boys who made what sounded to Bobby like fantastic claims about what could
be done with the thing in her hand.  He knew it was used to make a baby in
a woman, but the how of it was something hazy in his mind.  It had
something to do with kissing, he knew.  One boy had said "You kiss the girl
and then you make a baby in her." Bobby had wondered about that.  He had
seen people kissing each other ...  had gotten a beating, in fact, when he
walked into the kitchen one time while one of the attendants was kissing a
cook, his hands rubbing the woman's chest like Meg had just rubbed his own.
But the cook hadn't had a baby.

   As a result of the vagueness of his understanding, Bobby felt the best
thing to do was just shake his head "No."

   Meg felt a naughty thrill shoot through her at the innocence of his
response.  She knew she should stop what she was doing, but his sexual
organs felt so good in her hands that she didn't want to.  He wasn't
dangerous, like other men would be in this situation.

   "These are very precious to a woman," she said, stroking him slowly,
feeling the bumps and ridges and veins on his staff under her soapy hands.
"They are used for her pleasure, and to give her children." She felt the
organ jerk in her hand and looked up to see Bobby's mouth open, his eyes
wide.

   "Have you ever seen a woman naked?" she asked, again for more than one
reason.

   Bobby shook his head violently this time.  He knew a boy who had peeked
into a privy while a woman had been in there and had gotten caught.  They
had almost killed him with the "punishment" meted out for that incident.

   Meg giggled.  He had looked horrified at the thought.  "It's not THAT
bad" she said.  "Women can be beautiful without clothing too, you know."

   Bobby went from the fear of being caught doing something wrong, to the
fear that he had hurt this woman's feelings.  He wanted to tell her that he
thought SHE was beautiful, but his charade had gone on for so long now that
he knew, without a doubt that he'd be punished severely if they found out.
A beating he could take ...  but the thought of being thrown out of this
wonderful place struck his heart like a dagger.

   Meg sucked in a breath as Bobby's hand reached out and he caressed her
cheek with two fingers.  His intent was clear.  It was a gentle sweet
touch, that communicated what he was thinking.

   "You think I'm beautiful?" she asked, her voice quivering.

   He nodded seriously and she felt her nipples reach full erection as
butterflies danced in her belly.

   "Thank you," she said softly.  "I wasn't talking about me, though.  I'm
sure I'm quite ugly without my clothes on."

   Bobby didn't know whether this would get him in trouble or not, but this
woman was so nice to him that he took the chance.  He shook his head and
touched her cheek again.

   Meg felt a shiver pass through her at his second touch.  She was having
the most inappropriate thoughts, and she shook her head to clear them out.
In the meantime, her hand had unconsciously begun moving along Bobby's
penis faster.  The result was something neither of them either planned, or
expected.

   Bobby felt something painfully sweet rushing on him, centered right
where her hands were holding him.  He had never had an orgasm ...  had
never been stimulated like this, at least not this long.  Therefore he
didn't know what was going to happen, and didn't know what to do about the
feelings in his groin.  All he knew was that he wanted her to keep doing
what she was doing.

   Meg's only warning was the feeling of his balls jumping in her left
hand. The tip of his penis was only five or six inches away from her face,
when the little slit suddenly got wider and milky white fluid shot out of
it.  That fluid splatted directly on Meg's nose, some going into her eyes,
and some going into her open mouth as her hand jerked downward.  She was so
startled that she froze, and received another splashing shot in exactly the
same place.

   Their reactions were amazingly different.

   The feeling for Bobby was so powerful and startling and pleasant, that
he wished it would go on forever.  At the same time, he somehow knew that
he had just done something bad ...  horrible in fact ...  and that the
punishment would be more severe than anything he had experienced before. 
His reaction was to huddle and cover his head to protect it.  He fell back
down into the now cooling water and assumed a fetal position, waiting for
the strap or club that he knew she'd fetch and beat him with.

   For Meg, her initial astonishment gave way to fear as well ...  the fear
that someone would find out what she'd just done.  That gave way to the
sensations of his semen - she knew it was his semen - on her face and in
her mouth.  Her more powerful instinct was to clear her eyes so she could
see, and that took precedence over her instinct to spit out the fluid in
her mouth.  She brought her hands up to her eyes, sweeping the thick fluid
away from them and feeling the heat of that fluid, something that surprised
her for some reason.  She could see better, but not as well as she wanted
to.  She dipped her hands into the bath water and rubbed her wet hands over
her eyes again, clearing them more completely.  When she opened them again,
she saw Bobby cowering in the water, moaning in fear, his back, with its
scars turned to her.

   She had been unprepared for his penis to ejaculate.  She had been
unprepared for his semen to hit her face.  She had been unprepared for it
to get in her mouth too.  All of those things were still in the process of
being evaluated by her unconscious mind.  But seeing him cowering like that
hit a chord in her that she was well prepared to deal with.

   "Bobby" she cooed.  "No ...  baby ...  you didn't do anything wrong ...
honey don't be afraid ...  I'm not going to hurt you.  Nobody's going to
hurt you." She kept repeating those things in her soothing mellow voice,
reaching for his arm.  He flinched at her first contact, and it broke her
heart.

   "Come on baby," she pleaded.  "Don't be afraid."

   Bobby felt her hands on him and slowly realized that, once again, he had
assumed something wrongly ...  that this place was so different that he
didn't know how to act, or what to expect.  He moved his hands from his
face and saw care and concern in Meg's eyes.  He let himself be pulled up,
out of the water, and then out of the tub.

   Meg hugged him, getting her dress wet.  "Ohhh poor baby, you didn't do
anything wrong," she repeated.  She felt the water soak through her dress
and pushed him away, turning to get a towel.  He stood, his arms at his
sides, as she dried him off, trying to reassure him that he wasn't in
trouble.

   "What happened was a normal thing," she told him, sliding the rough
towel over his chest and arms.  "It was MY fault, Bobby.  All you did was
what your body needed to do."

   She knelt and dried his legs and last she ran the towel quickly over his
now-limp penis.  Something in her wanted to avoid making that thing hard
again.  She wasn't sure she'd be able to avoid doing again what she'd just
done to him.

   She stood up and saw amazement in his eyes.  The fear was gone and she
wanted to do something to make it stay away forever.  Without thinking, she
kissed him.

   Bobby had seen people kissing, and had been kissed on the cheek a few
times.  He'd never been kissed like this, though.  This kiss was warm, and
her lips were soft.  There was a strange taste on her lips and, when she
pulled hers off of his, he licked his, concentrating on that taste.

   Meg saw him ...  tasting ...  and suddenly concentrated on the taste in
her own mouth ...  his taste ...  that she had just given back to him.  She
was astounded that, rather than being disgusted by his semen in her mouth,
she was entranced by his flavor.  She flushed red, thinking that she must
be perverted to like having his sexual essence in her mouth, but she also
knew that nothing in her life had thrilled her as much as what had just
happened.  If this was being perverted, she was going to re-think some
things.  It hadn't FELT perverted.  All either of them had done was act as
nature had intended them to act.

   Still, she needed to know how he felt about things.  "Are you mad at me
Bobby?" she asked, holding his face in her hands.

   He shook his head firmly back and forth.

   She kissed him again, and this time, when she hugged him, she didn't
pull away.  No one had taught Meg about the French way of kissing.  What
she thought about was that she had put some of his seed on his lips the
last time she kissed him, and her tongue flicked out to take that back. 
When his tongue flicked against hers in response, she felt a shock that
made her want to be naked with this man/boy.  That was what caused her to
stop.  She couldn't assimilate that desire ...  the desire to actually mate
with this boy ...  into her thought process.

   She was panting when she pushed him away.

   "OK then," she breathed.  "No harm done?"

   Bobby nodded and smiled.  If this was what bath time was all about he
hoped they would decide he needed a lot more baths.

   Meg, for reasons not clear to her, decided to lead Bobby out into the
living room for him to get dressed.  It could be presumed, by a
psychiatrist, perhaps, that she secretly wanted to display his limp penis,
to assure the other women that this was just a boy, an not a sexual being,
as she had just discovered.  That psychiatrist would nod his head sagely
and suggest she wanted to retain the secret for herself, and that by
showing him flaccid, she impressed on the others that he had nothing to
offer those other women in the adult world.

   Interestingly, (and perhaps no surprise to the reader) the psychiatrist
would have been wrong.  Mavis' gasp as the naked young man was revealed to
her suggested she was quite aware of his manhood, shriveled though it might
be.  Her gasp caused the other women to look to see what had caught her
attention, and there were more gasps.

   For Mavis, Prudence and Donna, the gasps went along with feelings none
of them had felt in their loins for a while.  Mavis remembered what it felt
like for one of those things to be inside her, long as it had been since
that had happened.

   Prudence, being younger, and less time having passed since she felt the
joys of copulation, gazed at what her errant husband had presented her with
on numerous occasions, demanding that she make it stiff so she could
perform her wifely duties.

   Donna, whose husband had looked like this for the last years of his
life, unable to get a full erection as he aged, was aware of the youth and
strength lying hidden in that limp thing that swung between Bobby's legs,
knowing that, if full and hard, it would be marvelous indeed to behold.

   The last gasp came, of course, from Sally, who had never seen one that
big, limp or not.  It was she who followed her gasp with words.

   "Meg, what in the world are you doing?" she asked.

   Meg, suddenly realizing what she had unconsciously done, blushed.  "Oh
my stars.  I just forgot how big he is."

   Prudence was next.  "How on earth could you forget something like that?"

   Mavis was next.  "Meg!  You're positively soaked!"

   Meg looked down at her wet dress and thought furiously.

   "He's somewhat ...  enthusiastic in the water," she said cautiously.  "I
don't think he's had many baths in his life.  He ...  um ...  he splashes
around."

   Unknowingly, Meg had hit on exactly the right description.  All of the
women had bathed a young person who hit the water with his or her hands
happily, splashing everyone within reach.  All of the women succumbed to
that image in their minds, of a young child playing in the water.

   "Oh the poor sweet baby," cooed Mavis, going to the pile of clothing and
digging through it.  Of course Bobby's clothing wasn't in the pile.  His
clothes were folded after being washed, and placed in the bureau in his
room.

   "I guess I just forgot about his clothes," said Meg lamely.

   Prudence stood up.  "Well, he's no baby, I'll tell you THAT!" She
giggled.  Then she blushed as the other women stared at her.  "Well he's
not!" she insisted.  "Not that I think we should neglect him," she added.
"I understand that we need to help him.  It might even be fun!" she said,
recovering.

   Mavis gasped again and fanned her face with her hand.  "Prudence you are
SUCH a hussy!" she said, her voice strangled.  "Now get that boy some
clothes before he upsets the whole house!"

   "Too late for that," muttered Donna under her breath.  She was going to
have a hard time getting to sleep when she got home.  The rememberance of
what one of those things could do was heavy on her mind.  Flitting
fantasies of having more babies troubled her sleep occasionally.  It might
tonight too.  While she couldn't get pregnant, like she wanted to, but she
could at least experience an orgasm once in a while, with her fingers.

   Sally just stared at Bobby's penis, drinking in the sight of something
so forbidden.  At least itseemed forbidden to her.  While other women, not
counting Meg, of course, got to see them all the time, she hadn't expected
to see one at all, and she wasn't about to miss the chance to examine it
for as long as possible.

   "I'll take him," she blurted suddenly.  "To get him dressed," she added,
blushing.

   Meg, who admitted to herself that she would have enjoyed dressing the
boy - even though he didn't need help - also knew that, the way she was
feeling right now, that would be dangerous.  And, she needed to change her
dress.  She waved her hand at Sally.

   Sally took Bobby's hand and led him to his room.  Bobby watched as she
went to the bureau and went through it, looking for the butcher's old
nightshirt, that had been donated to Bobby because it had a hole in it. 
That hole had been patched, and when the garment was on him, Bobby thought
he looked like he was wearing a dress.  But it was warm, and no one laughed
at him, so he didn't mind.

   Sally turned, with the nightshirt in her hands.

   "Here Bobby," she said softly.  "Do you need help?"

   Bobby had come to the conclusion that, when these women helped him, nice
things happened, so he nodded and held up his arms, like the little
children did when they were being dressed.  He was taller than Sally,
though, and, stretch as she might, she couldn't reach the tips of his hands
to get the garment over them.  It did cause her to press her meager bosom
against his chest, though, which felt nice to both of them.  Bobby's
emotions, already at a heightened state, remembered the hug Meg had given
him.  He lowered his arms and hugged Sally.

   She went rigid in his arms, at first, as scenes of rape and ravishment
shot through her brain.  But it was just a hug, which became apparent
quickly as he did nothing other than squeeze her in his arms.  Her hands
came tentatively to his back and she felt the welts and scars there, which
shocked her.

   Sally pushed him away and spun him, to stare at what none of the women
had seen, because they were all staring at something else.

   "Ohhhh you poor thing," she moaned, tracing her fingertips lightly over
the stripes.  "You've been abused," she said.

   Sally might have been mousy, and not popular with the men, even before
the war, so she had no experience with men as ...  men.  But her maternal
instincts were well developed by having worked with the children.  Her
heart, like Meg's before her, went out to the young man as she saw the
evidence of repeated beatings on his back, buttocks and thighs.  She spun
him around again, to face her and, like Meg had, she took his face in her
hands.

   "No one will do that to you here, Bobby.  Do you understand me?  No one
will hurt you here," she said softly.  Her fingers slid down his throat to
his chest, where they lingered.  She wanted to hug him back, but was
suddenly uncomfortable with the feeling in her stomach.  She was disgusted
by what had happened to this boy, but something else made her stomach feel
fluttery at the same time.

   "Now, let me get this on you," she said, working the arms of the
nightshirt over his hands and then up and over his head and shoulders.  He
dropped his arms and the cloth slid down his body.

   But Sally's fingers on his back, and face and chest, along with her
soothing voice, had reawakened in Bobby the pleasurable thoughts of a
woman's smooth hands on his body, and his penis, being young and virile,
had once again stiffened.  It had, in fact, stiffened so much that it
angled upward, and the falling cloth caught on it, suspending that part of
the nightshirt, while the rest fell past his hips.

   Sally looked down and felt faint when she saw what had happened.  She
staggered backwards, staring at the first erection on a male older than ten
that she had ever seen.  The fluttery feelings in her stomach suddenly
turned into a ball of warmth ...  lower in her body ...  just above the
juncture of her legs.

   "Oh my," she gasped.

   Bobby stood there, afraid to move.  He saw fear in Sally's eyes, and he
didn't want her to be afraid.  She was staring at his penis, like Meg had,
but her reaction was different than Meg's.  He didn't want her to be afraid
of him ...  didn't want her to withdraw from him.  Tentatively he reached
and pulled on the cloth, so it fell, covering him.  It still tented out,
where his penis pushed against it, but he couldn't do anything about that.

   His actions reassured Sally in ways that no speech ever could have and
she relaxed.

   "I'm being silly," she said, mostly to herself.  She looked from the
lump in his nightgown back up to his face.  He smiled tentatively and she
smiled back, just as tentatively, unused to using those muscles in her
face.

   "That was a surprise," she said, not knowing what else to say.  "Are you
all right?"

   Bobby nodded.

   "Well we can't take you out there looking like that.  Mavis would have a
stroke.  Perhaps you should just go to bed now," she suggested.

   Bobby turned and climbed into his bed.  He felt soothed by what had
happened in the bathroom, but felt his penis wanting to do that again.  He
hoped Sally would stroke him, like Meg had, but she didn't.  She did come
and kiss him on the forehead.

   "Good night sweet prince," she whispered, letting the restraints on her
imagination loosen.  Her imagination had to make up for so many things she
didn't have in her life.  It was a good imagination because she used it a
lot.  She blushed as she left the room and stopped in the hallway to get
control of herself.

   Then she went back downstairs like nothing had happened.



   CHAPTER FOUR

   Sally wasn't the only woman in the house who acted like nothing had
happened.

   Something HAD happened, though.

   It had happened to all five women, though none of them compared notes.
All five women had seen Bobby's penis and, while only two of them had seen
it hard, all of them knew it could get that way.  That, encouraged by all
of them far underestimating his intelligence, led all of them to think
about that penis a little differently than they would had they seen, say
Frank, the storekeeper in town, without his pants.

   Of them all, two reacted more strongly than the others.  Donna had
wanted more children after Wally was born, but they waited until he was
four or five to try again, and by then it was too late.  By the time he
tried making another baby, his fading ability had left him impotent for the
most part.  Donna had been able, for a year or two, to use her mouth on him
and get him hard enough to penetrate her, but he never stayed hard ehough
to bring her to orgasm.  So she was not only pining for more children, she
was unsatisfied, and had to learn to use her fingers.  That night, as she
stroked her clit, lying in bed, she thought back on her life, and the life
of the only man who'd claimed her sexually.

   Walter, being from the old school, thought that sex was something you
did to make babies, and it wasn't for fun, even though, of course, it was
fun.  He'd worked the farm he inherited from his father at the tender age
of twenty, and he had to work hard to make it go ...  much too hard to
waste time on girls.  The life of a bachelor farmer came easily to him,
because he had no time to dwell on it.  It had been on a winter's night a
lot like this one, when it was too cold to do anything outside, and all the
inside work had been done, and all his books had been read for the tenth or
eleventh time, that his thoughts had drifted to what it might be like to
have a warm woman in bed with him.  With a start of horror, as if awakening
from a dream, he realized he was fifty years old and had nothing to show
for his life.  The farm supported him, but he had no one to pass it on to.

   Walter Pratt had gone wife hunting the very next day, January the first,
nineteen twenty-eight.  It was almost ridiculously easy.  He went to a
church social, New Year's Day being on a Sunday that year, and talked to
the only woman who wasn't accompanied by a man, and who was over the age of
sixteen.  Walter knew he had no business marrying a girl, even though that
was perfectly honorable in those days.  He wanted a woman who knew how to
love a man, and who wouldn't kill him while he was between her legs.

   Donna, at the time, was considered a spinster.  She was twenty-three,
and every time her parents tried to get her married off she did whatever it
took to spoil the plan.  The problem was that Donna had gone to finishing
school, where she met interesting men, but had no urge to marry any of
them. When she went back home she was one of the best educated women in
town, but it didn't do her a bit of good.  The only jobs available for
women were cleaning, and laundry, or being the servants of the rich folk,
none of which appealed to her.  She was stubborn, and it cost her. 
Eventually she got work as a nanny, which was fine, as far as that went,
until the man of the house wanted to make more babies for her to care for
...  and not necessarily with his wife.  She had stalked out of the house
after slapping the man, abandoning her job in the process.

   That had been on December the thirty-first, the night before she met
Walter Pratt.

   She talked to Walter because she was bored, but soon found him to be a
fascinating man.  He was well read and intelligent, if a little shy, but
she found his shyness engaging too.  They had talked for two hours, sharing
bits and pieces of their lives and dreams and disappointments and, at his
leave-taking, when he abruptly suggested that he needed a wife, and she
needed a husband, and a place to lay her weary head, she blinked twice at
his effrontery and heard herself say that she would consider his proposal
most closely.

   When she thought about it, it made more sense to her than she wished it
did.  It provided for her.  He was a decent man.  He'd die first, of
course, but that left the farm in her name.  And if they could have
children, like both of them wanted to, she and her children could work the
land.  She didn't think she'd be able to love him, but then one didn't
always marry for love.  The only reason she could think of not to do it was
because there would then be no hope for excitement in her life.

   She had accepted his proposal and they were married by Valentines Day.

   To her surprise she HAD learned to love him.  He was a good man, and
sweet and sensitive.  She worked hard - what she was able to do - but it
was good work and it kept her from getting fat on her own cooking.  His was
horrible.  And she had loved being pregnant.  Knowing that life stirred in
her womb had made her feel complete.  Raising Tommy had made her happy,
even when Walter began to be unable to please her in bed.  Now Tommy was
off in the war, and might be killed, and she had felt empty ever since he
left.  She knew she shouldn't feel that way.  She had done good things in
her life, and it hadn't been for nothing.  Still, she yearned in her heart
of hearts for more babies to raise and love ...  to keep her company in her
old age.

   When Mavis had changed from a boarding house to an orphanage, it was as
though she had been given a chance to do what she loved most ...  care for
children.

   Now, as she rubbed her tortured clit, reaching for an orgasm, she felt
pangs of guilt.  She wasn't thinking of her dead husband's penis.  What she
envisioned in her mind could only be that of a much younger, more virile
man.

   A man like Bobby.

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

   Prudence had been exposed to a lot of sex by her husband before he left
for the war, but his skill had been non existent.  He climbed on her, shot
his wad, and climbed off, not caring whether she had reached her peak or
not.  She, too, had wanted a child.  She, too, had had to learn to satisfy
herself with her fingers.

   Prudence lay in her own bed, in her own house, her fingers stuck firmly
in her empty pussy as she writhed under the covers.  Her orgasm came
quickly.  She was a hot blooded woman and, if she had the right fantasy in
her mind she could cum quickly and often, for as long as she chose to keep
making herself do it.

   That was a hollow victory, though, because there was nothing like the
real thing, as far as Prudence was concerned.  She was miserable, even
though she had cum twice, thinking about Bobby.  Her husband had left her,
or was going to leave her ...  she didn't actually know what her status
was. She assumed that there would have to be some papers to sign or
something legal that she'd either have to do, or that would be delivered to
her after it had been done, or something.  She did know that Private Watson
was still paying the rent, or having it paid, because the landlord hadn't
kicked her out yet.

   Mavis had offered to let her live in the Milleson House, but she
resisted that.  It wasn't because of the women - she liked them all - and
it wasn't because of the children - she loved them.  Rather it was because
if she moved in with them she'd have to admit that it was over ...  that
another woman had taken her man ...  that she wasn't even desirable enough
to come home to.

   Now she thought about her marriage, and the possibility that she'd have
to move, and the possibility that she'd never have children.  Men didn't
want to marry a divorced woman.  There were a lot of things men DID want to
do with a divorced woman ...  but marriage wasn't one of them.  She had
gotten married to be able to have children.  Working with the poor things
at Mavis' house was fine - she loved that - but she wanted her own children
so much it hurt.  She had assumed, when she came to work for Mavis, that
all the children were orphaned by disease, or accident, or perhaps, in the
odd circumstance, crime.  She was horrified to find out that a lot of women
didn't want their children in the first place, and simply abandoned them to
die.  She didn't understand any woman who would give up a precious baby,
much less let it die for lack of caring.  She was quite sure she could
commit murder on such a woman.  All the children that they cared for at
Milleson House deserved loving parents.  Even poor Bobby.

   Thinking of Bobby made her remember why she'd needed to stroke herself
when she got home.  He was really quite a handsome boy, now that he had a
little meat on his bones.  His smile was gorgeous, rare as it was, and his
tenderness with June Bug and Emily had brought tears to her eyes.  She
remembered that dangling penis he was so unconcerned about as he stood,
naked, in front of five grown women.

   She began rubbing again.  This time she was going to cum until she was
too tired to stay awake.

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

   Back in Milleson House Mavis lay with her eyes tightly closed, the
vision of Bobby's penis clear in her mind's eye.  She'd almost forgotten
what an adult phallus looked like.  Her hand stole to the joining of her
legs.  It had done that three times before, and she'd always jerked it
back, ashamed that she wanted to pervert herself.  At last, though, she
couldn't stand it any more.  With a groan of mingled frustration,
satisfaction and shame, she pulled her night dress up and splayed her legs
open.  She was already slippery and wet.

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

   The other two women in Milleson house lay in their beds too, their eyes
wide open and staring at the unseen ceiling.  Meg pinched her nipples, but
couldn't bring herself to masturbate.  She knew some women did that, but
she couldn't picture herself as one of them.  She had pride.  She was
stronger than those other women.

   In reality, though she didn't know it, she was only more frustrated than
those other women.  That frustration, and the image of Bobby's erect penis,
shooting long streams of semen ...  kept her awake most of the night,
tossing and turning.

   As for Sally, it was all so new to her that she just lay there thinking
about what she had seen, and how things had felt, and all the new things
she'd experienced.  She was excited in the same way a scientist is excited
when he's on the verge of a discovery.  She didn't know what to expect, or
what would happen, but she knew it would be interesting.  Sally's dull,
gray life had been boring for as long as she could remember.  Interesting
was so much more ...  interesting.

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

   Bobby had lain in his warm bed, in this amazing house, with its
fantastic practices, and had just relaxed.  Relaxing was not something
Bobby had much experience at, and it felt almost decadent.  He felt twinges
of conscience at fooling the women, all of whom were so nice that he was
sure now that some kind of mistake had been made.  No one he knew would
have intentionally sent him to this wonderful place.  It was too late to
just yell "Surprise!" and laugh at the big joke.  He knew, beyond any
doubt, that their feelings would be hurt.  They'd find out he wasn't
simple-minded ...  that he could read just as well as Meg and Donna did ...
that he was perfectly capable of taking his own bath.

   He thought about the baths.  He hadn't counted on that happening, but he
was glad it had.  The feel of Meg's hands on his skin - everywhere, not
just on his cock - was almost indescribably wonderful.  He'd cut out his
own tongue if it ensured that Meg would bathe him for the next year or two.

   Then he thought about the feeling in is cock when it had squirted.  He'd
thought something was wrong with him at first.  The pain had come on him
like a rushing freight train and had stabbed directly through his penis and
into his aching balls.  Her hand moving had caused that pain.  He knew that
now.  And then the pain in his balls had reversed and come back out his
dick as the most intense pleasure he had ever felt.

   Ecstasy is something a lot of people feel rarely.  It has a lot of
definitions, but ecstacy, in this case, was the sudden experience of
unanticipated joy.  That's rare, in the sense that we have expectations of
joy usually.  We plan for it, and reach for it, and when it arrives it is
expected.  That's fine, but when it's UN-expected, the feeling can be
overpowering.  Not only Bobby, but Meg too had experienced ecstasy that
night.

   Somehow, he knew that if he rubbed his own cock, he could make that
feeling come back.

   But he didn't.

   That was saved for Meg to do.  If she refused to do it again, then he'd
do it for himself.  But only if she refused.

   His relaxation ended abruptly and violently as a piercing scream cut the
air in the dark, quiet house.  Patrick screamed again, a wailing,
horrified, blood curdling scream and Bobby bolted up out of bed.  He dashed
out into the hall and down to the second floor, where he threw the door
open, expecting to find someone beating the daylights out of poor Patrick.

   Bobby's eyes had become accustomed to the dark.  What he found was
Patrick, eyes wide open, tears running down his face, leaning against the
iron bedstead with the covers pulled up to his chin.  His roommate,
Terrence sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes.  Patrick was babbling and, when
he saw Bobby, his hand jerked forward and he pointed to the closet door in
the corner of the room.  In the darkness Bobby saw something move on the
face of the door.  He realized instantly that what he was seeing was
moonlight, bouncing off the snow, and being broken up by tree branches
moving in the wind outside.  He moved to the window and closed the
curtains, just as Sally and Meg came running into the room, panting from
their dash up the stairs.  Meg had a kerosene lamp in her hand.

   "What's WRONG?" she shouted, elevating tensions in the room just by her
own tense reaction.

   "The Umpelty Oog!" squealed Patrick.  "The Umpelty Oog!" he screamed.

   Meg stared and looked upward, slumping.  Sally sighed at the same time.
Mavis came puffing up the hallway, asking what was wrong.

   Meg moaned.  "Patrick says he saw the Umpelty Oog." She turned, angry
now that she'd been pulled out of bed for this.  "Patrick, how many times
have I TOLD you there IS NO SUCH THING as the Umpelty Oog!"

   Patrick cried now.  "But I SAW him" he pleaded.  "I saw him!"

   Jenny, Emily and June Bug appeared in the open door, huddling together.
Their room was right next door to this one.  They looked terrified too.

   Bobby recognized the women doing what all adults did ...  ignore
children's fears and concerns.  He'd always thought adults just didn't
care, but he couldn't think that about these women.  They had shown him too
many times that they were different.  He'd seen what had convinced Patrick
that something was moving in the corner, so he understood that Patrick
could believe in the imaginary beast.  And he knew that if they all just
left, Patrick would still believe that he was in danger.

   Bobby slapped the closet door with the flat of his hand.  The boom
startled even him.

   "What?!" cried Mavis and Sally.

   Bobby put one finger up to his lips, in the universal signal to be
quiet. Then he tiptoed over to Meg and took her hand, pulling her toward
the closet.  She resisted at first, but then curiosity overcame her
unhappiness at being jerked from her warm bed - even though she couldn't
sleep - for this nonsense.

   When he got her to the closet door, Bobby began a series of pantomimes
that included taking a deep breath and then opening his mouth widely.  He
took her hand and traced the letters "S-C-R-E-A-M" into them and then
pointed at her.

   "You want me to yell?" she asked.

   Bobby nodded and then went through the whole plan one last time.  He
would jerk the door open and she would scream.

   Her eyes got wide.

   She whispered "You want me to scare the Umpelty Oog away?"

   Bobby nodded again.

   Meg smiled widely.  She stood up and turned around.  Everyone in the
room was watching them like they were monkeys in the zoo.

   Bobby and I are going to scare the Umpelty Oog away.  Cover your ears
please," she said smoothly.

   Of course nobody covered their ears.  But they should have.  When Bobby
jerked the door open Meg let out all her pent up passion and frustration in
a blood curdling scream that, had it been summer, with the windows open,
would have brought men running from four houses over.  Bobby slapped the
closet door three or four times and then slammed it closed.  Then they
turned to see what their audience thought.

   Mavis had one hand over her heart, and the other over her mouth.  Sally
had both hands over her mouth.  Patrick and Terrence both sat, their eyes
round as saucers, their mouths wide open, and their hands gripping their
covers.

   Mavis snorted and then bit her tongue to keep from laughing.  She went
to the bed and urged Patrick to lie back down.  Then she tucked him in
securely.

   "Well, if I were the Umpelty Oog I surely wouldn't want to stick around
here ...  not with Meg screaming at me like that.  And I bet he's afraid of
Bobby too.  He's used to little boys and Bobby just plain scared him away,
don't you think so?"

   Patrick's saucer eyes blinked and he nodded hopefully.

   "Of course he did.  Now you just go to sleep.  I don't think the Umpelty
Oog will be back to bother you again tonight."

   Everyone filed out.  In the hallway, Meg had an excuse to hug Bobby
again, this time with only a thin night dress ...  well, two of them, his
and hers ...  but both thin ...  between them.  She kissed his cheek warmly
as her unfettered breasts pressed against his chest.  "Thank you Bobby,"
she said.  "That was just brilliant."

   Bobby held on, feeling the heat of her breasts coming through the cloth
between them.  She let go of him before his prick could become fully erect
and push into her.

   Then everybody went back to bed.

   For Bobby and Meg, things were very much like they had been before the
excitement.

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

   The next day Bobby made some preparations for future events.  With all
the snow on the ground, it was difficult, but he finally found a suitable
stick, of suitable thickness, that made a satisfying and loud snapping
sound as he broke it across his knee.  Based on what he'd heard, he
smuggled two lengths of the stick into the house, hiding one in Patrick and
Terrence's closet and the other in the room that held Jenny, Emily and June
Bug.

   Then he went about his normal chores, filling coal buckets, clearing the
walk of blown snow and playing with the children.  Donna called to him to
come with her for the marketing and he put on his coat, boots and the
ridiculous but warm hat he now owned.  He followed Donna to the Dry Goods
store and she loaded him up.

   "Bobby, you wait outside," she said.  "I want to talk to Mister Robinson
privately."

   It was while Bobby was outside that he overheard two women talking about
how school would be starting up again the next day.  His spirits sank.

   Donna came out and hustled back home, clutching her purse, which
consisted of an ornate cloth bag with a drawstring that kept it closed, and
which she could loop around her wrist.  Bobby trudged along behind her and,
when they got back home, into the dining room, dumped all the parcels he
had carried onto the table.  He automatically started putting things away,
while Donna called all the women together and they huddled.  He heard
exclamations and clapping and then Mavis called to him.

   "Bobby, would you come in here please?"

   He went and found all five women standing in a semi-circle, smiling at
him.  Mavis had something in her hand.

   "Bobby, what you did last night was a fine thing ...  a caring thing ...
and we all felt like you should be rewarded.  This is for you."

   She held out her hand and opened it.  In it was a brand new pocket
knife. Bobby couldn't believe his eyes.  It was beautiful, with a dark
wooden handle.  He'd never seen anything so beautiful.

   "Go on ...  take it," urged Mavis, moving her hand closer to him.  "Now
you can finish your carving."

   Bobby picked up the knife reverently.  In etched letters on a brass
plate were the words "Old Timer".  It had two blades.  One blade was short,
with a blunt tip, while the other was longer and very sharp at the tip.  He
dragged the edge of the blade across one fingertip crosswise, and felt the
keen edge dig into his skin.  It was fabulously sharp.  Tears welled up in
his eyes.  No one had ever given him a present before this.  He was
suddenly ashamed of his tears, and wiped at his eyes with the hand that
wasn't holding the knife.

   Quite suddenly he was surrounded by women, who were also crying and
smiling at the same time.  That morphed into a big hug, with all of them
trying to hug him and each other at the same time.  He put his arms around
as many of them as he could.

   "What are you doing?" piped a young voice.

   The women either turned, or looked over their shoulders to see Terrence
standing alone, looking curiously at the group of crying people.

   It just so happened that Meg was on Bobby's right in the group, where
his arms had gone around them.  And, it so happened that, when she heard
Terrence, she turned to face him.  It was coincidence that she both turned
outward from the group, rather than inward.  And it was a further
coincidence that Bobby's right hand, the one that wasn't holding the knife,
was at the same level as Meg's breasts.

   The result of so many coincidences was that Bobby's hand ended up filled
with soft breasts.  His hand slid across one mound and then landed on the
other before the woman realized what was happening.  She inadvertently
froze at just the time that her right breast filled his hand.  That hand
just naturally flexed to cup what was in it.

   Meg's face flamed and she made herself move, astonished to find that she
didn't want to.  That hand cupping her breast felt nice in a way that she
was completely unprepared for.

   Mavis had turned in the same direction and, though she hadn't seen what
happened, she saw Meg's pink flush.

   "Whatever is wrong with you?" she asked, reaching up to cup Meg's chin
in her hands and looking at both sides of her face.  Bobby's hand had
dropped to his side by now.

   "Is it hot in here?" Meg asked nervously.

   The group broke up to tend to children in various places around the
house, leaving Bobby to examine his new knife.  He went immediately to his
gunny sack, which he still kept under the bed in his room, and removed the
lump of wood that was only partly finished.  Then he took it to a chair
beside the coal stove, sat, and began working on it.  His new knife was
much sharper than the one that had been taken from him, and the carving
proceeded quickly.

   No one bothered him, and by suppertime the dog was almost complete.  It
sat, on its haunches, head tilted, one ear up, tongue lolling.  It was
beautiful.  All the women examined it closely, praising Bobby's uncanny
skill at giving life to the dead wood.

   Because school was to start up again the next day, an extra bath night
was thrown into the schedule.

   This particular night, both June Bug and Emily were in the group that
remained to listen to the story while the others were taken for baths. 
There was immediately competition between the two as both tried to climb up
on his lap at the same time.  He solved that problem by putting one on each
thigh and wrapping his arms around them.  His eyes met Meg's and, again, he
saw that glint in her eye that went with a look on her face that he usually
didn't see.

   They got through another fifteen pages of Alice's adventures.  When June
Bug and Emily were taken off to bathe, and Bobby's lap was unencumbered, he
got down on the floor and helped dry and clothe the naked children from the
first shift.  It was eerily silent, as it always was when Meg was reading.
The children stood, rapt, their attention concentrated on Meg's voice as
their arms were lifted and night clothes were placed on their unresisting
bodies.

   That silence vanished, of course, when Meg closed the book.  There were
cries of "More ...  read some more" and "Not yet"

   June bug and Emily, who were roommates, came to Bobby and each took a
hand, dragging him to their room on the second floor.

   "We want you to tuck us in," piped Emily.  Jenny stood nearby nodding.

   Prudence looked at Donna.  They usually took the second floor girls at
bedtime.  Donna shrugged her shoulders and grinned.  "Looks like somebody
has some new girlfriends," she said softly.

   Meg called out.  "Hurry back Bobby, you have to take a bath too."

   "You need any help with him tonight?" asked Prudence, giggling.

   Mavis snorted.  "Get your mind out of the gutter, Pru!"

   Prudence laughed.  "Why Mavis, whatever do you mean?  Surely you don't
think that just because the man I used to have has been gone for two years,
and probably isn't coming back, that I'm on the prowl for a replacement."

   Mavis smiled.  "You can't fool me Pru.  I know exactly what you were
thinking."

   "Mavis!" laughed Prudence.  "I'm shocked!" She got a sly look on her
face.  "And, based on what you just said, YOU are thinking exactly the same
thing!"

   Meg, who had indeed been re-evaluating her stand on a few things, didn't
like the way the conversation was going, put a frown on her face.  "I
certainly do NOT need any help with the poor boy.  Especially from two
hussies who can't control their thoughts!"

   Donna laughed out loud.  "Make that THREE hussies, Meg.  Don't forget
poor little me."

   Meg felt guilty, because if she did what she wanted to do tonight, she'd
be a much worse hussy than any of them.  But she relaxed as they went on
with their normal routine.

   Bobby bounced back down the stairs and stood beside Meg, docile while
she finished diapering the baby and then handed him to Sally, who had the
toddler on her other hip.  Mavis came and took the baby so that Sally could
hold four year old Johnny's hand as they went up to the room those three
were in.

   Meg turned to Bobby.  "Are you ready?" she asked.

   He nodded, with just the hint of a smile on his face.  He could feel his
penis getting stiff already.

   This time Bobby undressed himself, while Meg set about filling the tub.
She was already nervous when she turned around to look at him.  Her eyes
widened as she saw him standing placidly, his erect phallus pointing at
her. Her eyes darted to the door, and the skeleton key that hung on a nail
high up on the door jamb.  She looked back at Bobby's rampant prick and the
tingle that went through her made her move.  She went to the door, got the
key and carefully inserted it in the lock, turning it until it clicked. 
Then she replaced the key on the nail and turned around.  Her hands
unconsciously went to cover her abdomen.

   "Bobby?" she said.

   He looked at her.

   "I thought that ...  um what with my dress getting all wet last time
that ...  if I um ...  took it off, it wouldn't get wet and I wouldn't have
to go change when we're done," she finished in a rush.

   He stared at her.  Had she been closer to him she might have seen his
pupils dilate.  She also didn't notice his prick angle up slightly more
than level.

   "Is that all right?" she asked, her voice trembling.

   Bobby didn't know what to do.  Just the thought of her without her dress
on made his balls and penis feel almost like it had when it squirted.  He
had the urge to grab his cock and squeeze it, but controlled himself.  He
didn't think that would be the right thing to do right now.  For lack of
anything else to do he nodded.

   Meg fiddled nervously with the buttons on the front of her dress.  "Have
you ever seen a woman ...  naked?" she asked.

   Bobby had no trouble shaking his head.  It just came naturally.  His
cock moved upward even more, beginning to point at her face now.

   "This is only so I don't ruin my dress," she said, trying to convince
herself.

   When Bobby just kept standing there Meg took a breath and began
unbuttoning the bodice of her dress.  She wasn't wearing a bra tonight. 
The stiff fabric parted to expose creamy white skin.  She couldn't tear her
eyes away from his as she pushed one shoulder, and then the other off, and
the dress slid down, catching on the swell of her hips.  She had to fight
her arms to keep them from covering her breasts.  Bobby's mouth dropped
open, his eyes riveted to her naked chest.  Taking another breath Meg
pushed the dress down and it fell in a pool around her ankles.  She
suddenly knew that, when she took her panties off, they'd be damp.  Bobby's
docile attitude actually fed her confidence and she stepped out of her
dress, hung it up on another nail, and then bent quickly to pulled her
panties down and off.  When she stood, she was naked for the first time in
her life in front of a man.  Her hands fluttered at her waist, wanting to
cover her groin and her breasts.  She fought that urge too.

   "Let's g-g-get you in the tub," she croaked.

   Ecstasy, that unexpected intense joy, can change the way you look at the
world.  It had changed Meg.  She had already done something that, a month
ago she'd have slapped a man for suggesting she do.  Now she was naked,
something else that was unchacteristic for her.

   Meg had decided that she had to feel his skin against hers.  She had
dreamed of it and fantasized about it and the need to feel him against her
had grown until she felt like she might burst.  The tub was easily large
enough for two - they put four children in it at the same time with no
problem.  She helped him step into the tub and then stepped in with him,
the warm water rising to her calves.

   "N-n-now you sit down and I'll wash your back," she said, breathlessly.

   When he sat she did too, extending her legs beside him so that he sat
between them, with his back only inches away.  She reached up and grabbed
the soap and began to wash his back with her hands.  Now, besides feeling
the ridges left by repeated assaults on him, she could see them too.  Her
emotions, already stretched to the breaking point, flooded out and she
sobbed twice before being able to control her voice.  The last thing she
needed was for someone to come knocking at that door wanting to know who
was crying and why.  And then wanting to know why the door was locked.

   Her arms went around him and she pulled him back against her, her hands
smoothing along his chest.

   For Bobby, the feel of her hands, replaced by her soft breasts pressing
into his back, almost made him cum.  He concentrated on the feel of her
fingers as they swept across his nipples, stopping momentarily to explore
them.  He heard her sob and didn't understand how anybody could be unhappy
in this situation.  He turned, his eyebrows raised and caught himself just
as he was about to ask what was wrong.  Her face was right there, by his
cheek as he turned his upper body.  He remembered how good her kiss had
felt.  If he kissed her would it make her feel good too?  Her wide eyes
stared into his as she panted.  He twisted a little more, leaning back
against the side of the tub and her arm raised to go around his neck.

   Bobby leaned forward to touch his lips to hers.

   Meg had only thought about the feel of his skin on hers.  There was a
cloud of misty thoughts beyond that, but they were formless and drifting.
Now, with his face so close to hers ...  his lips just inches away ...  she
didn't know what to do.  When he kissed her, her mind exploded into stars
and she needed to touch herself, like she wouldn't let herself do in the
dark of night in her bed.  She couldn't reach her pussy, though, because
his hip was digging into it.

   Instead she reached for his prick.

   The kiss electrified both of them and they ground their lips together,
their tongues clashing as their mouths opened.  His hand came up to reach
for her face, but he couldn't quite reach it.  It settled on her breast
again, his fingers naturally gravitating to her nipple.  His fingers, just
as naturally, explored that turgid bump, as hers had his own, and that one
little squeeze brought Meg off like a bomb.  She had not thought to have an
orgasm ...  only to feel his skin ...  and her loins exploded where his hip
pressed against her clit, ecstasy blowing her mind clear of all thought for
a few seconds.  Her hand gripped his shaft so hard that he grunted and she
immediately let go, unable to concentrate on what was happening in her body
and tend to his at the same time.  Her own groan of release she managed to
keep in, except for the sound that she let loose into his open mouth.

   Meg slumped back against the back of the tub, eyes closed, weak from her
experience.  Bobby twisted more, nervous that something had happened to
her, and gave a sigh of relief as she opened her eyes.

   Her head lolled and she looked at the door.  Suddenly realizing it was
locked, and had been locked for quite a while, she surged upward, pushing
Bobby to the front of the tub.

   "You stay right there until I get things back to normal," she whispered.
She stepped out of the tub, running a towel over her body and stepping back
into her dress.  She hurriedly buttoned the front, checked her hair in the
mirror - she had put it into a bun so it wouldn't get wet - and smoothed
the dress over her hips.  Then she turned back to Bobby, who had watched
her interestedly.

   "Now you," she said huskily.

   He stood up in anticipation.

   She got to her knees as he bent backwards slightly, presenting his
dripping rod to her.  This was something else Meg had thought about.  His
taste had fascinated her the last time, and she had thought of a way to
make sure that he didn't make a mess when he squirted this time.

   She reached out and grasped his firm rod lightly in her hand.  Then she
leaned forward and slid her lips over the head of his prick.

   Bobby had been excited ever since he saw her naked body revealed.  Like
her, the feel of skin on skin had brought him close to release.  If she'd
have left her hand on him a moment longer he would have spurted in the
water.  Now, as he felt his cock head engulfed in her hot mouth, he
exploded, ecstacy once again flooding his mind until he couldn't think. 
Her other hand came up to cup his balls, and while her fingers missed the
first jerk, they felt the next three as he leaned even further backward and
groaned.  Her mouth filled with thick fluid and Meg gulped instinctively to
keep it from filling her mouth too much.  After she felt the third jet she
sucked, sliding her lips further up his spurting pole and then back again.
She pulled off of him and swirled his cum around in her mouth, running her
tongue along her teeth ...  tasting him again.

   He was, she decided, delicious.  His prick began to flag, to settle and
grow smaller.  A bubble of that delicious fluid seeped out of the little
hole and she sucked at the tip, letting her fingers milk him for the last
drops.

   Her knees ached, and that woke her to the task at hand.  She got him out
of the tub and, out of habit, dried him off.  She couldn't resist bending
over and sucking at his limp penis one last time, to make sure, she told
herself, that nothing dripped out of it that would alert the others.  She
planned again to take him out into the dining room naked ...  to re-enforce
in the minds of the women that he was just a boy ...  whose penis probably
didn't get stiff at all.

   Last, before they left, she embraced him and kissed him deeply.

   "Thank you Bobby," she whispered in his ear.  "You made me very happy."

   Bobby felt the urge to kiss her neck, and he did so, tasting her skin.
She shuddered and pushed him away.

   "You must never do that when the others can see," she said.  "They'd
make us stop if they knew.  I don't want to stop, Bobby.  You won't ... 
will you?"

   Bobby, again, had no trouble shaking his head.

   In one frame of reference, though he didn't know it, Bobby had just
arrived at level three of Mr.  Maslow's pyramid.  Someone had honest
feelings of love for him.

   CHAPTER FIVE

   Meg should have noticed, when they left the bathroom, that all four of
the other women seemed to have something to do in the dining room, but she
was too busy trying to act completely normal.

   "I see you fared a little better tonight," said Mavis, looking at Meg's
dress, an odd look on her face.

   "Yes, Bobby is a good boy, and learns very quickly," said Meg.  She saw
Sally looking oddly at her too, one eyebrow raised, but ignored her rather
than ask what was troubling her.  Instead she went about finding Bobby's
night shirt, which she'd purposely put in the wash so it would be in the
pile.  She got it on him and took his hand.

   "I'll go with you," said Sally suddenly.

   "Oh" said Meg.  "All right."

   Bobby led the way, climbing the steps, turning the corner and climbing
another flight as the two women followed him.  Sally followed Meg as they
entered his room with the lantern she had picked up.  They didn't use
electricity unless they had to, due to the war.

   They tucked Bobby in and Sally watched as Meg leaned down to kiss him on
his forehead.  Then, to Meg's surprise, Sally leaned over and kissed him on
the cheek.  Sally wasn't one to exhibit feelings like that.

   When they left the room Sally went first and was waiting for Meg.

   "What happened in the bathroom?" asked Sally, her voice low.

   "Whatever do you mean?" asked Meg.  She was glad it was dark, because
she was blushing.

   Sally's finger came up and pointed at Meg's chest.  "Your dress was
properly buttoned when you went in there," she said simply.

   Meg looked down and was horrified to see that she had missed a button,
and the top three were in the wrong holes.

   "Surely ...  you're mistaken," said Meg weakly.

   Sally folded her arms under her meager breasts.  "I'm not mistaken Meg.
Your dress was not buttoned like that when you went into that room."

   Meg felt her stomach knot.  She was in trouble and she knew it.  She
threw herself on Sally's mercy.

   "It's just that he splashes so much," she started, wringing her hands.
"And I just thought that ...  if I took my dress off then it wouldn't get
ruined, and I wouldn't have to change into a new one ..." She stared at
Sally, for some sign that her story was being accepted ...  or at least
understood.

   "You let him see you naked?" Sally's voice rose above a whisper.

   "He's such a good boy Sally, so sweet and helpless.  And he's been so
abused.  It didn't hurt anything.  Why he barely even responded." She bit
off that last part.  She hadn't meant to say anything about his response to
her nudity.  But her tongue had run away with itself.  It always had, and
it had always gotten her into trouble.

   "But he DID respond ...  didn't he Meg?" probed Sally.  She knew what
that response was too.

   "Well ...  yes ...  a little," admitted Meg.

   "What did you do?" asked Sally.

   Meg was confused.  Sally never talked about anything for long ...  never
probed like this ...  asked so many questions.  This was a different Sally
than the one Meg knew.

   "Please, Sally, I didn't hurt anything.  He's just a poor boy.  Don't
tell Mavis.  She'll throw me out Sally."

   "What did you do, Meg?" asked Sally again.  "You touched him, didn't
you?"

   "Sally..." Meg pleaded.

   "Did you touch him?" asked Sally, her voice low.

   Meg dropped her head and shook it, not wanting to have to admit this to
this strange woman.

   "Don't lie to me Meg.  I may be quiet, but I'm not stupid, and neither
is Mavis.  If you don't think she saw your dress buttoned wrong then you're
a silly goose!  That boy's ...  penis ...  was limp as a noodle when you
brought him out of there.  If you didn't do something then it shouldn't
have been limp like that."

   Meg knew it was over.  And that made her mad.  She knew that what she
and Bobby had done was wrong, at least by the standards of this house, but
she hadn't hurt him, and it had been something wonderful and warm and
lovely for them both.  She believed that.

   "What I did in there is my business," she said, raising her head and
standing tall.  "I did not hurt him or coerce him in any way.  If you feel
compelled to take this to Mavis then I suppose you will.  But I'll not let
you make me feel like I did something wrong.  Everything that happened in
there was good, and sweet and full of love."

   She started to push around Sally, who lifted her hands and placed them
firmly on Meg's chest, above her breasts.

   "Stop" she said.

   This CERTAINLY wasn't the Sally Meg knew.  Sally didn't have an
assertive bone in her body.

   "I want to know," said Sally softly.  "I just want to know what it was
like.  That's all."

   "I don't understand," said Meg.

   "Meg, look at me.  I know I'm not attractive, like you.  No man has ever
even kissed me, much less anything else.  I know I'll die a spinster, never
knowing a man's touch or ...  what you did in there.  At least let me hear
what it's like to be fully a woman." Sally dropped her hands.

   Meg's eyes grew round and white in the dark.  "We didn't do THAT!" she
whispered loudly.  "Please believe that I wouldn't do THAT with him.  He's
just a boy!"

   "But you did do SOMETHING" Sally probed again.

   Meg took a breath and nodded.

   "Will you tell me about it?" pleaded Sally, leaning forward.

   Her attitude was so yearning that Meg believed her.  "Yes, but not now.
They're probably already wondering what's taking us so long.  I'll tell
you, but later.  I promise."

   "Done!" said Sally.  She grinned, also something that came strangely to
her face.

   When they got downstairs Donna and Prudence had already gone home. 
Mavis was sitting and darning socks by the stove.  She looked up at the two
women.

   "Well, took you long enough.  How much tucking in does one skinny boy
need?" She arched an eyebrow.

   "Oh!" said Meg.  "He's been in bed a while now.  Sally and I were just
talking."

   "That's nice." said Mavis, looking back down at her mending.  "I thought
you'd have fixed that dress by now Meg."

   Meg's hand went to the buttons immediately and her shoulders slumped. 
She'd completely forgotten about that during Sally's interrogation.  She
waited for the questions she knew Mavis was now going to ask.

   But when Mavis looked up all she said was "Off to bed with you.  We've
an early morning tomorrow getting them all off to school."

   That night, the Umpelty Oog struck again.  This time it was in Jenny,
Emily and June Bug's room, and it was Emily who screamed out her horror in
the night.  Meg got there first, since she stayed in the room next door. 
Patrick and Terrence were next, and then Bobby arrived from upstairs as
Sally ghosted down the hallway, belting a robe around her.

   Emily cried that, when they'd scared it out of Patrick's room, it came
to hers and was hiding in HER closet now.  June Bug huddled under her
blankets, her head firmly covered.  Jenny was in the same bed as June Bug,
but peeked out, the covers up to her chin.

   Meg was cross.  With all that had happened, she didn't need this
foolishness, and she didn't feel like screaming again at the top of her
lungs.

   Bobby held up a finger though, and everybody looked at him.  He squared
his shoulders and then began dancing around, throwing boxer's punches at
nothing.  Then he straightened up again, and pointed to himself, and then
at the closet.  He took Meg by her arms and moved her close to Emily's bed.
He shooed the two boys out into the hallway.

   Then he marched to the closet door, opened it, stepped inside, and
slammed the door closed.  He felt immediately for the stick he had hidden
there earlier.  Once he had it in his hand he began banging the walls with
it, and throwing his body around inside the closet.  He laid the stick on
the floor, opened the door and thrust himself out into the room, falling to
the floor and rolling.  There were screams from Emily and the boys.  Bobby
hauled himself up and went back in the closet, leaving the door halfway
open this time.  He retrieved the stick, bounced himself off the walls a
few more times and then broke the stick over his knee with a sharp crack.

   Bobby stuffed the broken pieces of the branch up under some clothes on
the top shelf.  Then he walked out of the closet, dusting off his hands,
slapping his palms together and smiling widely.  He stopped, and put his
hands on his hips, like he'd seen in a picture of Peter Pan in one of the
books downstairs.  He looked at the women first.  Meg was covering a smile
with her hand.  Sally looked on, her mouth open.  Mavis had arrived during
the incident, and Meg had one hand on her arm, restraining her.

   "What happened?" asked Patrick in a squeaky voice.

   Bobby pantomimed boxing again, and then made the same motions he would
as if breaking something in half with his hands.  He let his head flop
sideways and made his tongue hang out, slumping.

   "You KILLED HIM?!" squealed Emily.  "You KILLED the Umpelty Oog?!"

   Bobby straightened up and dusted his hands again, smiling.  Then he went
to the closet door and swung it wide, as if to show them it was now empty.

   Patrick edged into the room, craning his neck to see.  "Where is he?" he
asked, holding on to Mavis' night dress in a grip that threatened to pull
it off her shoulders.

   Bobby had thought of that too.  He stuffed imaginary things in his
mouth, chewed and swallowed, and then rubbed his stomach.

   "You ATE the Umpelty Oog?!" squealed Emily.  She bounded out of bed and
threw herself at Bobby, hugging his legs fiercely.

   "Wow." said Patrick in a hushed voice.  He looked up at Mavis, who was
holding her nightdress on.  "He killed the Umpelty Oog." he said, his voice
hushed.

   "He most certainly did." said Mavis, her voice loud in the room.  "And
I, for one, am glad the ugly beast will trouble us no more.  At last we can
get a good night's sleep.  Off to bed children.  School starts again
tomorrow."

   Mavis took charge of the two boys and herded them toward their room.

   Emily looked up at Bobby.

   "I could kiss you Bobby." she said, mimicking something she'd heard an
adult say one time.

   "Well" said Sally, coming across the room.  "I'll kiss him for you, and
you get to BED!" She reached down to swat Emily's backside.

   Emily squealed and laughed and ran, jumping up on the bed and burrowing
under her covers.

   Sally looked calmly in Bobby's eyes and pulled his face down for a kiss.

   Sally had never kissed a man.  She'd kissed her pillow, and a few dogs
as she was growing up, before she realized that men weren't interested in
her.  And she'd kissed the babies and cooed at them.  So she knew, in
theory, how to kiss.  She pressed her soft lips to Bobby's in an attempt to
tell him how powerfully thankful she was for what he'd just done.

   Bobby, having already decided that he liked this kissing business,
kissed her back.  He kissed her the only way he knew how to kiss ...  the
way he kissed Meg.

   Sally's world changed forever in that kiss.  It left her weak-kneed and
gasping for breath.  She was suddenly quite sure she'd have been a lot
happier if she hadn't done it, because now she knew she'd never be happy
unless she had a man to kiss her like that whenever she wanted to.  But she
took what was offered, as she did in the rest of her life, and enjoyed it
to the maximum.  When she finally sank back down on her heels and turned
around, her glazed eyes took in the three other females in the room, all
watching her intently.

   Meg stepped forward.  "And I will kiss him for June Bug and Jenny." she
said.

   She reacted to that kiss much as Sally had.  She hoped, more than she
had hoped for many things in her life, that she'd get the chance to kiss
him again.

   The girls, however, were having none of it.

   "I can hug him myself." said Emily, sitting up in bed and holding out
her arms.

   Bobby went over between the beds and hugged the little girl, planting a
quick kiss on her lips.  Then he turned to find Jenny and June Bug standing
up in their bed, holding out their arms too.  June Bug hugged him fiercely
and planted five or six kisses on his cheeks and lips before dropping like
a stone and getting back under the covers.  Jenny, being older, gave him a
quick hug and a peck on the lips, and joined her bedmate.

   Then, walking very normally, Bobby went past the two women, turned and
went toward the stairs.

   "You HAVE to tell me!" whispered Sally, her hand gripping Meg's arm.

   "I will." said Meg.  "I will."

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

   Miss Rachael Templeton slogged through the door of her two room
schoolhouse, stomping the snow off her feet and going to the stove to get
it going.  Once she had a blaze of wood burning, she fed it some coal and
closed the pot bellied stove up, adjusting the draft so it wouldn't smoke
too badly.

   Next she went to the sink and looked inside.  Sure enough, there was a
glaze of ice in the bottom.  She tried the pump handle, and sighed with
relief when she heard the gurgle that meant it wasn't frozen up.

   There wasn't anything else to do until the children arrived ...  if they
arrived.  She normally had fourteen students, the vast majority of them
from Mrs.  Milleson's orphanage.  Other than them there were the
twelve-year-old Halsted twins, Patsy Brown, who was fourteen and too old to
still be going to a combined school, but did anyway because it was the only
school available within twenty miles, and Mike Simpson, who only came to
school when his father didn't need him on the farm.  That occurrence was
rare, even in the dead of winter for some reason.

   She left her coat and gloves on, as the room wouldn't warm up for an
hour or two.  She had stuffed rags in the chinks around windows, and had
managed to get the town fathers to supply heavy curtains that helped a
little.  But all there was between them and the cold, cruel world outside
were clapboards nailed to studs.  The whole place shook in the wind if it
was strong enough.

   She wandered over to the rope that hung down in the center of the room
and grasped it, putting her whole weight on it as she pulled downward.  She
heard the doleful tolling of the big brass bell up above and knew that it
was being heard all over town.

   Then she pulled up a chair next to the stove and sat, huddling,
wondering yet again how she had ended up in Hampstead Nebraska in the
middle of the coldest winter she'd ever seen in her life.  It wasn't
supposed to happen like this.  Rachel came from a good family back east, in
Philadelphia, where things were civilized, even during the war.  Her role
models had been the beautiful and talented teachers who taught there, women
who were respected and revered.  She had looked at her teachers, dreaming
about being one of them who, with the wave of a hand, could have a boy
taken out and paddled.

   Rachel had gone to college to be a teacher.  She did that mostly because
that's really what she wanted to do ...  to make a difference in young
people's lives.  But she also did it because she saw what other choices
women had.  She happened to have entered college a year before Pearl Harbor
was attacked, which gave her precedence when things started to get tight.
She shuddered at the thought of what she'd be doing if she hadn't been in
teacher's college.  She'd heard of women welding, for pity's sake, carrying
heavy things, building airplanes and getting filthy.  So she applied
herself to make sure she got that sheepskin, and one of those cushy jobs
back east.

   Except that it hadn't worked out that way.  What no one told her was
that there were very few cushy jobs any more, for teachers or anyone else.
And for the cushy jobs that DID exist, there were twenty ...  fifty ...  a
hundred women lined up who would do anything to get them.

   Rachel could have gotten one.  All she'd have had to do was sleep with
Horace Vandermeister.  But his knowing sneer and his fat belly when he told
her "the facts of life" left her so nauseated that she actually cursed at
him.  He had promptly, somehow, arranged for her to be assigned to the
Hampstead Nebraska Consolidated School.

   She had appealed to her father to get her out of her assignment, but she
couldn't tell him the real reason why.  He had harrumphed and told her that
adversity built character, and that pressure made diamonds and probably six
or seven more worn out cliché's before she quit listening and resigned
herself to go to Nebraska.  Besides, wasn't middle America just full of
strong, tall men who worked the earth and were windblown and sun-creased
and handsome?

   That stereotype had bitten the bullet as soon as she stepped off the
train and had to carry her own bags.  No one met her.  She was expected to
find her way around, arrange for her lodgings herself and introduce herself
to the superintendent of schools, Hiram Hochstedder who, when he wasn't
conducting extremely important school business, ran Duffy's Tavern over on
"B" street.  "These hicks," she had muttered to herself, "can't even name a
street, much less treat me with the respect a school teacher deserves." She
conveniently failed to remember that she had absolutely no experience at
all in actually teaching.

   That first day had been tough on Rachel.  When she asked around for the
superintendent of schools, she was referred to a saloon, which no lady of
any standing would think of entering.  But she had to, because she had no
money, and needed a place to stay.  Her "room" was out back of that very
same saloon in a tidy little building with three actual rooms, including a
tiny kitchen.  The whole place smelled faintly of manure, but it was
somewhere to hang her hat, so she settled in.  It was six months before
someone told her she was living in what used to be the stables.

   But by then, she had learned a large number of important life lessons,
chief among them that, if you aren't nice to people, then they very well
may shit on you if they have the chance.  And there was a LOT of shit in
this town.  She had adjusted slowly and painfully though, and even though
she wouldn't have thought it, she was a better person for what she'd gone
through.  It was soon clear that she had no hopes for bagging a rich man in
this town, or even a young one.

   And so, her cherished virginity was perfectly safe and intact ...  and
in Hampstead Nebraska she didn't see much of an opportunity for that to
change.

   Well, actually, she could probably lose it at the drop of a hat, but it
would be with a man over forty-five, probably a farmer and quite likely
someone who had a window in his mouth when he smiled.

   That Rachel's virginity was intact was a thing of sadness to most of the
men in town, including the married ones.  Rachel came from fine Swedish
stock, with that clear skin, blue eyes and golden hair that makes men's
scrotums tighten.  She was a healthy girl too, with bulging breasts and
wide hips.  Her lips were full and dark, even without the makeup women had
to give up during the war.  Rachel was a walking, talking baby machine,
from the men's point of view.  That the machine was still brand new and had
never been taken out on the road seemed a horrible waste.  There was pretty
much a consensus among the men too, that it was just too bad that she set
such damn high standards for herself.

   So, since Rachel didn't have to spend much time on managing men, she
turned all her energies to her students.

   To her everlasting amazement, Rachel found out she loved teaching, and
was actually pretty good at it.  She loved "her" children and, during the
autumn, actually gave serious consideration to staying here.  The war
couldn't last forever, and she knew that some thirty young men from
Hampstead would be returning when it was over.

   Then winter set in and Rachel decided that she had to do a good enough
job to get transferred to somewhere civilized.

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

   By the time it was warm enough to take her gloves off, her first student
had arrived.  Patsy stomped into the room like Rachel had, trying to get
enough snow off her footwear to make sure they didn't get too wet when the
rest melted.  Patsy was an unimaginative girl who, fifty or sixty years ago
would have been married already, with one baby on her hip, and another in
her belly.  She didn't see the need to learn anything, but was so lazy that
she went to school so she didn't have to stay home, where she'd be expected
to work.

   Then there was general pandemonium as Mrs.  Milleson's brood flooded in
through the door, accompanied by two of the women who worked there.  There
was a man with them too, which was surprising.  She looked more closely as
the man took off a ridiculous coonskin cap.  No, he was a boy, maybe
Patsy's age.  Two of the Milleson girls were hanging off of him like
Christmas ornaments, and he bent over to help them out of their coats.  She
started to tell him to stop, because it was too cold in the school house
yet, but the women were also removing the coats of the other children. 
They didn't look like they were cold and she shivered.  If she ever lived
here long enough to get used to this kind of cold she was going to find a
pistol and blow her brains out.

   One of the women stood up.  What was her name?  Hortence?  Paula?  Oh
yes ...  Prudence.  Her husband was off at the war.  Rachel smiled at her.

   "This is our latest acquisition," Prudence said, indicating the boy. 
"His name is Bobby, and he's mute."

   Rachel sighed.  Another one that didn't talk.  She already had that odd
little girl with that odd little name.  Who in the world named a child June
Bug?  If she'd been named June Bug she wouldn't talk either.  On the other
hand, June Bug had a knack with numbers, and with a pencil and paper, she
could do things that a lot of much older children couldn't do.

   "Do we have any idea of his capabilities?" asked Rachel.

   "Only that he can write ...  at least a little," said the woman.  "We're
not sure.  We thought he was simple-minded, but he's a little too quick at
picking up some things for that to hold water in my opinion."

   "Well, then, perhaps we have something to work with," said Rachel.  The
boy was staring at her.  All males stared at her.  She corrected her
estimation of his age upward.  But his gaze wasn't lustful, like those of
most men.  He was just looking at her ...  with a look that was more like
"just interested" than "wishing you were naked".

   She walked over to him, smiling the smile she used with men when she
wanted them to pant and beg to please her.

   "Well, Bobby is it?  How nice.  I'm happy to meet you Bobby.  My name is
Miss Templeton, and I'll be your teacher.  Prudence tells me you can write.
Is this correct?"

   He nodded.

   "And can you read?" she asked.

   Another nod.

   "How about numbers.  Do you know anything of math?"

   Yet another nod.

   "Well, we'll see," said Rachel "Let me get the little ones to practicing
their letters and I'll give you some tests."

   She ignored him then, getting out paper and pencils and the ragged forty
year old texts she used to teach writing.  Most of the children were so
young that all she did with them was teach them the alphabet, and work with
them on writing the letters out.  With the older students she worked on
arithmetic and reading, as well as cursive writing.

   Once she had set tasks for all the others, including the Halsted twins
who finally tromped in through the door after all the others were already
at work, she turned to Bobby.  She sat him down at a desk and gave him
pencil and paper.  She started out asking him if he could write his name,
and if he knew how old he was.  Then, for lack of anything else she could
think of she asked him if he knew how to spell the colors of the rainbow.
He had performed everything perfectly and she realized he was no halfwit at
all.  She changed to math and set him some verbal challenges.  He scribbled
on the paper and she saw that he had division and multiplication down pat.
She tried a bit of algebra, which bothered him not at all.

   Rachel looked at the boy anew.  "How long have you been going to
school?" she asked him.  He scribbled for a minute and handed her the
paper. It said, in succinct and grammatically correct English that the had
been in the orphanage system for as long as he could remember and, choosing
to learn rather than be beaten, he had soaked up a little knowledge.

   Rachel looked at him surprised.  "And you read too?"

   Bobby listed his favorite books and authors, and Rachel's opinion of him
went up another notch.  She paused, thinking like she usually thought.

   "Why didn't you just pretend that you didn't know how to read or write?"
she asked.  "You had to know that if I thought you were a halfwit that I'd
put you in a corner and leave you alone."

   Bobby scribbled.  "I'd have been bored to tears.  Besides, you sound
like home.  Your accent sounds like Boston."

   She smiled.  "Well, at least you don't know everything.  I'm from
Philadelphia, and we don't sound anything like those pretentious snobs in
Massachusetts."

   Rachel went over to a shelf and pulled down a book.  She came back and
showed it to him.  It was called A Connecticut Yankee In King Arthur's
Court, by Mark Twain.  "Have you read this yet?" she asked.  Bobby shook
his head and she handed him the book.  "You can read that until the rest of
us are done.  I'll have to test you some more to figure out if there's
anything I can teach you or not."

   Rachel spent the rest of the morning with her usual students, every so
often glancing over at Bobby, who was reading at a rapid pace, his
attention solely on the book.  He looked up when she took her coat off and
she exposed her thrusting, well-filled bodice, but then went right back to
the book.  She was both surprised and, to be honest, a little disappointed
that Mark Twain seemed more important than her ability to mesmerize the
males of the species.

   School only went until noon, since most children were expected to work
at home, as well as go to school.  And, truth to tell, Rachel was going
over the same things over and over again anyway.  She was going to start
reading to them soon, and teaching them to read too, but that hadn't
started and couldn't really until they had a good grasp of their letters.
Normally she was bored in the afternoons, and she saw Bobby as a chance to
do something besides be bored.  When the women came back to collect the
children, Rachel asked if Bobby could stay for further testing.  The woman,
whose name she didn't know, looked at her intently, and then nodded her
head fractionally.  Then she turned to Bobby and spoke to him.  "Bobby, do
you remember how to get back to the house?"

   Bobby nodded and a voice came from outside.  "Come ON, Meg, they're
beginning to scatter."

   Meg looked at Bobby as he nodded.  "All right.  You come straight home
after the teacher is done with you.  All right?"

   Bobby nodded again and smiled.

   Rachel had watched the whole exchange and, with a woman's radar, had
seen something there that most women and almost no men would have seen.

   "You like her don't you?" asked Rachel.

   Bobby stared at her, his eyes going flat.

   "Now now, Bobby, it's perfectly normal for a boy to have crushes on a
pretty woman.  And she's quite pretty in her own way, don't you think?"

   Bobby nodded fractionally and she smiled.

   They sat, Rachel asking questions, and Bobby writing his responses.  She
found out he'd come from New York.  She was hungry for news, but Bobby
couldn't tell her much of that.  She asked him about foods he missed, and
learned that he had never eaten outside an orphanage, and didn't even know
about regional foods that were world famous.  He knew he had been a lot of
places, but didn't know the names of them.  Finally she asked him about the
children at Mrs.  Milleson's house.  On that he was brilliant.  He wrote
about what made them tick, and how he got them to do what he wanted them to
do, even without talking.  He told her the story of the Umpelty Oog, and
what he had done to kill it.  She laughed and clapped.  Suddenly she put
her hand over her stomach, which growled audibly.  She looked at a locket
watch that was pinned to her dress.

   "Oh my goodness, it's almost three.  You'd better get home.  And I need
to go home and get something to eat too.  This was fun Bobby.  I'll arrange
for us to spend several afternoons a week together if you like.  I can get
the books you need to read.  You have no idea what kind of literature there
is out there Bobby, but I'll teach you about it.  I'll speak to Mrs. 
Milleson.  Now, off with you."

   Bobby got up and shrugged into his coat before putting his ridiculous
hat on.  Then he turned and his eyes swept from her face to her feet and
back up again.  His eyes lingered on her breasts and she felt herself
flushing beet red.  He smiled, waved and darted out the door, running pell
mell toward the Milleson House.

   Rachel realized her heart was beating firmly in her chest.  His gaze had
been so personal, so intimate, as if he could see clear through her
clothes. And yet, it had been friendly too, as if to say "You are naked and
beautiful and a vision of loveliness - for which I thank you kindly ma'am."
It jarred her somehow to be appreciated so obviously, but so ...  safely
... too.

   She shrugged into her own coat, banked the fire, and left, closing the
door firmly behind her.

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

   Herding the children back home after school was the first time, Sally
and Meg had had to talk privately.  The children wanted to make and throw
snowballs, like they had seen Bobby do, and the women strolled slowly in
the frigid air.

   "So now, tell me," ordered Sally excitedly.

   "There's not all that much to tell," said Meg, sounding grumpy.

   "Come on Meg, don't back down.  You promised," wheedled Sally.

   Meg looked over at her friend, who had changed so much in just hours. 
She'd watched Sally kiss Bobby last night and experienced a rush of
emotions, not the least of them, to her chagrin, jealousy.  And she was
feeling that again, but for different reasons.

   "I'll tell you.  I'm just upset about HER." She nodded over her
shoulder.

   "The teacher?  What did she do to you?" asked Sally.

   "Nothing, but she's back there trying to get her hooks in Bobby.  I just
know she is.  And Bobby, poor thing, probably doesn't have any defenses
against a woman like her."

   "She is pretty," sighed Sally, who thought all other women were pretty.
"but she's just a teacher.  Surely she wouldn't see anything in Bobby.

   "I did," said Meg softly.  "I can't control myself when I'm around him,"
she admitted.  "Sally I've done things with him I never even THOUGHT about
doing with any other man."

   "So ...  TELL ME!" shouted Sally, scooping up a handful of snow and
flinging it at Meg.

   So, while the children played, and they moved slowly toward the house,
Meg confessed how it had started, and then how she felt, and what Bobby's
penis felt like in her hand.  She hadn't meant to admit or talk about
getting his semen in her mouth, but she was so excited remembering it that
it just spilled out.

   "In your MOUTH!?" squealed Sally.  "Oh how HORRID!"

   "NO!" said Meg, while wishing she hadn't said anything about that.  "It
wasn't like that at ALL!  It was wonderful!  It was delicious!  Sally I
know it sounds strange, but I LOVED it!"

   "Really?" Sally was intrigued.  She knew so little of sex that anything
she heard was interesting and, since her parents' basic rule was that
anything at all that had to do with sex was dirty and disgusting, getting
semen in your mouth wasn't actually any more disgusting to Sally than
anything else.  She'd just never thought about that.

   Meg could tell that Sally was neither disgusted or horrified, and that
calmed her.  This new Sally was someone she WANTED to talk to.

   "Really," she confirmed.  "In fact, it was so delicious that I ...  well
...  last night ...  I put my mouth on him and drank it all."

   She stopped and tensed, waiting for Sally to explode, and call her a
slut, or a whore, or, at the minimum, a tramp.

   But Sally didn't explode.  She did stare, as she thought about what boys
did with their penises, and that wasn't too attractive to think about in
terms of putting one in your mouth.  But, Bobby had just had a bath, so it
was nice and clean, and that didn't seem so bad to Sally.  All Sally had
ever thought about was the usual thing a man did with a woman ...  where
his penis went in a different ...  orifice.

   "But you didn't let him ...?" she couldn't say the actual words, but her
meaning was clear.

   "No," said Meg, suddenly wondering why she'd never thought of doing that
with him.  Then she realized she'd never thought of doing that with any
man. She'd thought about it in hazy fantasies, but, other than the feel of
her fingers on her pudendum, she had no idea what it would feel like, so it
was impossible to really think about.  "He only touched my nipple."

   "Really?" That got Sally excited again.  Her own nipples were so
sensitive that sometimes it drove her to distraction as they were scraped
by her clothing.

   So then Meg had to describe how Bobby's naked hip had pressed between
her leg, while his fingers pinched her nipple, and he kissed her.  Meg
wasn't quite sure whether she'd had an actual orgasm or not.  She'd heard
of such things, but never talked about that with any human being, so she
didn't know quite what an orgasm was supposed to feel like.

   They both realized that they had stopped, facing each other, and that
the children had drifted down the street.  They hurried to catch up.

   "Ohhh" sighed Sally.  "If only something like that could happen to me."

   Meg walked, thoughtfully.  The green eyed monster still played in the
back of her mind, but it was more associated with that blond school teacher
than it was with Sally.  Sally truly was very plain and, until recently, so
shy and retiring that no one thought she'd meet a man.  Meg liked this new,
excited and talkative Sally.

   "What if you gave Bobby his bath next time?" she asked quietly.

   Sally stopped, her mouth open.  "Oh I COULDN'T!" she moaned.  Her pale
face pinked up a bit in the cold air.

   "And why not?" asked Meg, suddenly wanting someone else to do the
terrible things she had done and that she didn't want to be terrible any
more.  If someone else did them too then it couldn't be terrible, could it?
Sally was one of the nicest women she knew, and maybe this would help her
find some happiness too.  "I don't think Bobby will care one way or the
other.  Didn't he kiss you back last night?"

   Sally's eyes glazed over.  "He sure did.  I thought I was going to fall
down!"

   "See?" pronounced Meg.  "He already likes you.  And I don't mind sharing
him." She thought about that for a second.  "Well, actually I do mind, but
I SHOULDN'T mind.  He's not mine or anything.  I just know how I feel when
I think about going in there with him again."

   Sally's eyes came back into focus.  "Do you think you'd ever let him
...?" She still couldn't say it.

   Now it was Meg's face that warmed up in the frosty air.  "How could you
ask me something like that?!" she said, trying to keep herself from
thinking about it.

   "The last time you tried to put me off you were hiding something," said
Sally, her eyes narrowing shrewdly.  "Are you trying to hide something now
Meg?  Have you thought about letting him ...  letting him make ...  love to
you?" She almost couldn't finish that sentence.

   "I don't know," said Meg, slumping a little.  "Until yesterday I'd have
chased you down the street for asking me a thing like that.  But I can't do
that now.  I get all ...  itchy when I think about him and playing with ...
it."

   "Maybe we should BOTH give him his next bath," suggested Sally.

   Meg shook her head.  "Mavis would never buy that.  You all are already
busy putting the children to bed when I take him in there.  She'd know
something strange was going on."

   "Have you forgotten what she said last night?" Sally asked
incredulously.

   "OH!" yipped Meg.  "I actually HAD!  Oh Sally, what are we going to do?
You HAVE to do it next time.  Then maybe Mavis will decide it was just
something simple that happened to my dress.  I mean she'd think I wasn't in
a hurry to go back in there with him.  Wouldn't she?"

   "I don't know if I could do it," said Sally.

   "Just wash him and leave it at that.  He's just a boy.  Surely it
doesn't get hard every single time he takes a bath," said Meg.

   "Well, I think I'm crazy for this, but all right," said Sally.  She felt
an unexpected and unfamiliar excitedness that made her warm all over.

   That decided, they gathered up the children and hurried home.



   CHAPTER SIX

   When Bobby came in the back door and stomped his boots clean, Mavis
noted that Meg and Sally took an inordinate interest in how school had been
for him.  He had written several notes to Mavis in the last week, in
response to questions from her about one thing or another, and she knew he
was much smarter than the rest of them thought.  She also knew that, in his
heart, he was a good boy ...  or man, as it were.  She too had seen the
marks on his back, and knew that that could have made him mean, but hadn't.
And he was almost a man, she thought.  She looked at him speculatively. 
She hadn't taken the time to think about him all that much.  He'd fitted in
well, and hadn't caused a single problem.  Well, not yet anyway.  She'd
also seen what swung between his legs.  She'd reacted to that lovely penis
herself, and she certainly couldn't blame two young, single women for
noticing it too.

   Could that be a problem?  she wondered.  There would certainly be a
sensation in town if either of them turned up with a swelled belly.  She
pondered that for a minute and snorted.  There was no way in the world
Sally had the gumption to take up with the boy.  And Meg ...  well Meg
might bear some watching.  It WAS possible that she had just loosened a few
buttons because it was hot in the bathroom, and then re-buttoned them
wrong.

   She looked at Bobby.  He was smiling.  He had a beautiful smile.  He was
a handsome man, or would be if he got a little more meat on his bones.  And
that would happen too, at the rate he ate.  He had asked for paper and
pencil and was writing a note to Meg.  She got up from peeling potatoes and
went over to see what was going on.

   Meg had just finished reading the note.  "His teacher wants to spend
some extra time with him," said Meg.  She didn't sound happy about that,
though there was no real reason why it wasn't a good idea.

   "Well, he needs an education," said Mavis neutrally.

   "Yes ...  but ..." Meg's voice dropped off.

   "But what, Meg?" asked Mavis calmly.

   "Oh nothing," said Meg, handing her the note, her jaws clenched."

   The little danger flag in Mavis' mind inched higher on the flag pole.

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

   Over the next week Rachel kept Bobby behind at school three more times.
That he was intelligent she could tell immediately upon testing him some
more.  But when she asked him why he couldn't talk, he got a guarded look
in his eye and couldn't provide any information.  At one point she made him
open his mouth, to see if he had a tongue or not, and he looked at her
strangely.  In the process she got close enough to him to smell his scent.
He didn't smell like most of the men she met on a casual basis.  They
smelled of stale sweat, and most had poor oral hygiene too.  Bobby, on the
other hand, smelled good, like a man should in her mind.  And his breath
was clean too.

   She asked him about that, and learned through his writing that he had
been taken to a dentist once, and after that he had done everything
possible to make sure he never had to go again.  She looked again and saw
where the tooth had been pulled.  He showed her the new toothbrush Mavis
had gotten him, that he still carried in his pocket, and used each time he
ate.

   He read everything she gave him, and only rarely pointed to a word to
have her explain its meaning.  While she didn't have the classics in the
school house, she owned a few herself, and knew people who would loan her
things ...  Chaucer, Shakespere, more of Twain's work and many others. 
During regular school he sat in a corner and read, unless she needed him to
help, which he did willingly.  He was a wizard at teaching the younger
children their numbers, and how to add and subtract.  And he sat with them
and helped them draw out their letters too, showing them his own and then
watching closely as they tried to copy that.  She smiled at the two girls
who had a crush on him.  If June Bug and Emily had been ten years older
they'd have lost their virginity to him by now.  She wondered what it would
be like lying with Bobby.

   Her head jerked.  Where in the world had THAT thought come from?  She
looked at him, as if he might be working some magic spell on her, but he
was simply reading at the time.  Reading with those deep brown eyes of his,
under those too long lashes of his.  Her head jerked again and a child
asked a question.  She was only too happy to focus on that.

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

   It was Friday night when the accident happened.  Jerry and Terrence were
playing catch in the parlor.  They were throwing a rolled up sock back and
forth.  When Jerry's throw went wrong, Terrence dove to catch it and hit
the clothes tree that several coats were hung on.  It tipped, and the
weight of the coats sent it into the window nearby.  There was only one
hook on the clothes tree that wasn't occupied, and that was the one that
hit the window.  The glass broke with a crack and tinkling sound as the
pieces fell, mostly outside in the snow.  Terrence was still off balance,
though, and he instinctively tried to grab onto something to stop his fall.
His nine-year-old hand landed on the broken edge of the glass still in the
window frame and nearly took two of his fingers off.

   The breaking glass got everyone's attention.  Terrence's screams as he
saw his bloody hand got them all running.

   Mavis knew it was bad when she saw the amount of blood that had already
spilled and welled out of the boy's tightly closed hand, which he was
holding to his chest as he sat and rocked and screamed.

   She had towels brought to her and had Meg hold Terrence tightly while
she pried his hand open to try to stop the bleeding.  Her blood ran cold
when she saw the damage.  He had to be seen by a doctor, and he had to be
seen soon.  She stuffed the end of the towel against the wound and let him
close his hand again.  Then she instructed Meg to help him hold the hand
tightly closed.  Prudence and Donna were already gone, since it was so
close to bedtime.  That only left her and Sally to take care of the kids,
since Meg was tied up with Terrence.

   She went to the desk and, with bloody hands, wrote a note.  She called
to Bobby, who had been standing and watching.

   "Take this down to Doctor Johanson's office.  He lives upstairs from his
office.  If you can't find him there, go to the saloon.  He has to get this
note, Bobby, and he has to come soon.  Terrence could bleed to death if
not.

   Bobby took time to get his coat, which was good, because it was bitterly
cold in the night air.  He ran, but when he got to the Doctor's office on C
street all the windows were dark.  He headed for the saloon.  The back door
was closer, so that's where he went.  He burst into that door, into the
kitchen, where an amazingly fat woman was standing at a big wooden table
rolling out pie crusts.  She looked at him and frowned.

   "Don't need no snot nosed boys hanging around here!" she barked.  "Now
GIT!" She brandished the rolling pin in her hand.

   Normally, Bobby would have done exactly what she said.  But he couldn't.


   "Doctor" he said explosively.  He was so unused to speaking that only
one word came out.  He held up the bloody note and the woman paled.

   "In there." She pointed to a set of double glass doors with lace
curtains making it impossible to see through them.

   Bobby darted to the doors and pushed one open.  Inside there was a
table, set for dinner.  Through another set of doors Bobby could see the
saloon proper.  He was in the dining room.  There were six men sitting
around the table, smoking cigars, the remains of dinner cluttering the
table.  A bottle of whiskey stood unstoppered beside a man wearing a vest.
The doctor was sitting in another chair.  Bobby had been with Mavis one
time on a shopping trip when she stopped Doctor Johansen to ask him a
question about a rash on one of the children.  She had introduced Bobby,
who, of course, had said nothing.

   Bobby went to the man and thrust out the bloody note.  The man read it
quickly and jumped up.

   "Gotta go boys," he said, grabbing his coat.  "House call," he added. 
He went out the doors to the saloon immediately.  Bobby started to follow
but was grabbed by the collar of his coat.

   "No you don't, boy!" said the fat woman, who had followed him into the
dining room.  "You go out there and the constable will make my life
miserable for a month.  Out the way you came in!" she said.  Bobby wondered
if she knew the constable himself was one of the men sitting at the table.
She manhandled him with surprising strength and dragged him back to the
kitchen and to the back door.  She opened the door, shoved him through it
and slammed it again without another word.

   He pulled up the collar of his coat and started down the line of
buildings that abutted the saloon.  He had to pass a smaller building, set
back from the alleyway, and noticed that there were lights in its windows.
He didn't think anything of that until he was right beside it and heard a
muffled scream.  It obviously came from that little building.  He heard a
woman scream "GET OUT" and then a sound he knew only too well, that of a
hand hitting flesh.  He moved closer, and heard the woman crying and
pleading "Don't do this."

   Bobby stood there, unsure of what to do.  Whatever was going on in there
wasn't any of his business.  He thought to go on and the woman screamed
again, a terrified sound.  There was another slap and a gruff male voice
shouted "SHUT UP BITCH, OR I'LL KILL YOU!"

   There was a pile of discarded trash and crates against the wall and
Bobby saw a board lying loose.  It was about three feet long, and narrow
enough that he could grip it.  He picked it up and stole closer to the
nearest window.  There were curtains inside, but there was a slim gap in
them that let him see part of the room.

   He could see half of the back of the man, and beyond him a bed with a
woman on it.  The woman lay crossways on the bed, her knees at the edge,
her feet hanging down.  The man raised his right arm and slapped the woman
again, making Bobby wince.  He had put all of his strength into that blow.
He couldn't see the woman's upper body, but he could see that she was
naked, though her clothing lay on the bed under her.  He realized her dress
had been torn open and she was lying on top of it.  He could see that the
woman had golden blond hair between her legs that puffed out and looked
strange to Bobby.

   He could also hear her terrified screams as the man pushed his
suspenders off his shoulders and let his pants fall.

   Bobby didn't have a clear understanding of rape, or the ins and outs of
sexual behavior between adults.  But he knew that nobody deserved to be
treated like this.

   Then the man moved, and Bobby saw that the woman was Miss Templeton.

   After it was all over he couldn't remember running to the door, or
pushing it open.  What he did remember was the knife in the man's left hand
as he stood over Miss Templeton and the stiff penis that jutted from the
man's groin.  He remembered the man turning his head toward Bobby, and the
snarl on the man's face as he raised the knife.

   And Bobby remembered swinging the board, aiming for the side of the
man's head.

   The man went down instantly, and the board was jerked from Bobby's hand,
driving splinters deep into his fingers.

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

   Level two of Mr.  Maslow's pyramid is where events like this take place.
Bobby, according to Mr.  Maslow, had just defended someone he cared about.
It was an animal reaction, which is quite normal on the lower levels of the
pyramid, but it was based on a very human thought process.

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

   Bobby stared at the blood where the board, for some reason, seemed stuck
to the man's head.  He noticed that the knife was lying on the floor, and
that the tip had a reddish glint to it.

   Then he looked at Miss Templeton, who lay splayed on the bed, naked and
sobbing.  There was blood on her too.  It was coming from a wound under her
chin, and had trickled down her chest to cross one pale breast.

   He couldn't help but notice her breasts, even though that wasn't
uppermost in his mind.  They were probably twice as big as Meg's, and
rounder.  Meg's nipples were brownish, but Miss Templeton's were pink.

   Then she saw him and struggled to sit up.  Once her motion got going she
flew up off the bed and she tripped over the man's body at her feet.  Bobby
stepped forward and caught her, his hands sliding up her sides to her
armpits.  Her forward motion made her take a step and she stepped on the
man's body, then up and over it into Bobby's arms.  She was crying
hysterically and her grip on Bobby was so strong he couldn't have broken it
if he'd have tried.  He would have spoken then, but he had no idea what to
say.  The man wasn't moving, and Bobby didn't know if he was in trouble or
not.

   So he just stood there and held her.  Her torn dress covered her back,
as it was still whole across her shoulders, but her naked front was pressed
against him.  He knew that, yet he didn't think of her in the same way he
thought of doing this with Meg.  He did not get erect.

   Bobby began to suspect more and more that he was in trouble.  He'd
spoken to the fat woman, but not to anyone else.  Maybe he could still get
away with playing mute.  He knew he had to go get someone.  He couldn't
stay here, and he couldn't just leave.  He remembered that the constable
was in the saloon, or had been when he left the dining room.

   She finally began to calm, her shuddering breaths coming more easily,
and words beginning to tumble out of her mouth.  She must have said "Thank
you" ten or fifteen times in between her recounting of how the man had
forced his way in, and ripped her dress said he would kill her if she
screamed.

   He pried Miss Templeton back away from him, his eyes going automatically
to those big, round pale breasts.  He pulled at the tatters of her dress
where the buttons had been ripped off, and pulled the cloth to partially
cover her.  Her hands gripped him, but he pushed her to a chair and made
her sit in it.  He saw pencil and paper on a table nearby and wrote "I'll
get help" on it.

   She looked at the paper without reading it, still sobbing.  Bobby shook
her and pointed at the note.  She brought it close to her face.

   "Noooo, don't leave meeee" she wailed.

   Bobby looked at the man.  He had the look of the dead.  Bobby had seen
death before, on more than one occasion.  Back where he had come from men
ended up in alleys looking like this man looked.  He went to the man as
Miss Templeton's eyes followed and he kicked the body, which rocked and
settled again.  His intent was to show Miss Templeton that the man was no
threat to her.  Then he went back to her and pointed at the note again.

   The door was still open when he turned to it, and her cries for him not
to leave her were still calling out to him as he closed it behind him.  He
ran back to the saloon, and through the kitchen door.  The fat woman was
still there, but she only had time to take a breath to yell at him and he
was already through the double doors into the dining room.  The Constable
had just stood up and was putting on his coat, his cigar clamped in his
jaws.

   Bobby went to the man and grabbed his arm, pulling.

   "What?!" the man growled, jerking his arm.  "What are you up to now,
boy?"

   Another man at the table spoke up.

   "He cain't talk Homer.  He's one of Mavis' brood."

   Bobby jerked again, harder, making it obvious that he wanted the
constable to come with him.

   "Well let's just go see what kind of trouble you found boy," said the
man.

   Four men followed the constable out into the back of the saloon as Bobby
pulled him.  They moved as a gaggle toward Miss Templeton's house, one of
them announcing that that's who lived there.  When they got to the front
door Bobby reached for the knob and a hand closed over his wrist.

   "Is she in trouble boy?" asked the constable, his voice low.

   Bobby nodded and the man reached beneath his coat and pulled out a huge
revolver.  He pushed Bobby to one side and opened the door.  He only had to
take one step to be able to see the whole house, for all intents and
purposes.  His eyes swept first to the body on the floor, and then to the
source of sobs in the chair.  Her condition, and the knife on the floor
made it obvious what had happened.

   "Jules, check that man," he ordered tersely, as he stepped toward the
young woman in the chair.

   "It's all right miss," he said in a surprisingly soft voice.  "It's all
over now.  What happened here?" Her dress was hanging open in the front,
and he couldn't keep himself from noticing her lush body either.

   Rachel, between sobs, told of the man coming into the house and
threatening her with the knife.  She told how he'd ripped her dress, and
told her that she'd be glad when he was finished.  She'd fought and he'd
threatened to kill her.  Then Bobby was there.  She looked around at the
men, who were all staring at her.

   "Bobby was here," she said.  "Where's Bobby?" She lunged up out of the
chair and gripped the constable's coat lapels.  "WHERE'S BOBBY?" she
screamed.  She couldn't remember what he'd done, or if the man had stabbed
him or not.  "He saved meeee," she cried.

   "There there, he's fine.  He's outside," said the constable.  "You're
bleeding missy.  We need to get the doctor to take a look at you." He
patted her head like she was a dog.  "Missy, I have to ask this.  I know
it's hard, but I have to ask.  Did he have his way with you?"

   Rachel's head came up and her eyes cleared.  "NO!" she said.  "Bobby
saved me.  Where's Bobbeeeeeee" she started crying again.

   "He's dead, Homer," said the man who was kneeling beside the rapist. 
"Kid must have hit him with the board.  Had a nail sticking out the end. 
Punched clean through his skull.  Fell where he stood, more'n likely."

   "Well SHIT!" snarled Homer.

   Rachel flinched and leaned away from him.

   "Sorry ma'am" he muttered.  "Him bein' dead kind of complicates things."


   He stood up and looked at one of the other men.  "Jasper, get on over to
Mavis' house and fetch doc.  Since this boy is the one that come and got
him, I s'pect that's where he is.  Tell 'im I got a dead body and a mostly
raped woman, and I need 'im over here.  Get there Pronto, Jasper."

   The man took off running and bumped into Bobby, who was shifting from
foot to foot in the doorway.  Homer leaned out and grabbed him.

   "Don't you go nowhere, son.  We got us a mess here, and you're neck deep
in it." He pulled him into the room.

   As soon as Rachel saw Bobby she leapt up out of the chair, her dress
flopping open and she rushed to hug Bobby, again gripping him so hard he
couldn't get away.  The men looked at Bobby with a mixture of emotions on
their faces.  They'd seen what she was pressing against him too.  Some of
them felt ashamed at feeling lust for a raped, or almost raped woman, but
later on they'd shake their heads and talk about what a fine figure of a
woman she was.  Most of them had wished they could see that body ...  even
if it wasn't like this.  And there it was, pressed up against a dumb orphan
kid.

   The constable gave up trying to separate Rachel from Bobby and spoke to
the man nearest him.  "Kenny, your place isn't far.  Why don't you go see
if Eunice will come over here and sit with Miss Templeton." He spoke next
to Jules again.  "See if she's got some more dresses or something she can
put on." He turned to the last man.  "Tom, I guess that leaves it up to you
to go get Blaine Coggs." Blaine was the town undertaker.

   Homer went over to the dead man and rolled him over to check for
himself. He made a sound.  "Know this feller.  Throwed him out of the
saloon earlier tonight for causing trouble.  He was drinkin' hard and had
no money to pay.  Should'a throw'd him in jail."

   Kenny got back first, and came in to announce that Eunice was on her
way. Eunice got there right on his heels, and had two more women in tow. 
They shooed the men out into the snow and gathered around Rachel to do what
only women could do for her just then.  They had to pry Rachel's arms from
around Bobby.  When they told him to leave too, Rachel's sobs and pleas for
him not to go were so pitiful that finally Eunice relented.

   "You stand over there, and turn your back," she ordered.  Bobby did so,
wondering where all this would end up.

   The women had just gotten Rachel into another dress when there was a
thump on the door and Doctor Johansen called out.  He was let in, and Mavis
charged in right behind him.  She saw Bobby and rushed over to him.

   "Are you all right baby?" she asked anxiously.  "They said there'd been
a killing and that you were involved!  Bobby what's going on?"

   Bobby was tempted to just tell her and be done with it.  Life was
getting way too complicated for the teenager.  But just then Homer called
in, asking if he could come in.  Since none of the women in the room knew
what actually happened, he was welcome, as long as he answered questions.
The doctor did a cursory examination of Rachel and pronounced that the
throat wound was minor and would take care of itself.  He was more
concerned about Rachel's mental state.  The women conferred and announced
that Rachel would be going with them, and that they'd take care of her at
Eunice's house until she recovered.  Kenny looked pleased, until his wife
caught him looking pleased.  She knew he'd been in this room before she got
there, because he'd described the scene to her.  And she knew how poor
Rachel Templeton had been dressed, so she knew what her husband had seen
that he HADN'T described.

   She faced her smirking husband.  "Kenny Holland, don't you be thinking
you're sleeping in our bed tonight.  You just go on over to the hotel and
get yourself a room.  I'll send word when you can come back home."

   He tried to resist.  "Now Eunice, don't be that way.  Why can't SHE get
a hotel room?" There were groans from two of the other men, who were
looking in through the open doorway, and Homer shook his head sadly.  He
grabbed Kenny's arm and pulled him to the door before Eunice could go
looking for something to hit him with.  As he was led out Kenny kept
complaining.  "What in tarnation did I do?  I HELPED for pity's sake!  And
it's ME that has to find someplace to sleep?"

   The doctor went to the man on the floor and leaned down.  He pronounced
the man dead and then stood up.  "Nothing more I can do here.  I still got
an injured boy to finish tending to, if this town can settle down for an
hour.  Homer?  I got to stitch the boy up.  Try to keep a lid on things for
a while, all right?"

   Mavis faced Homer.  "I'm taking Bobby home," she said firmly.  "And
don't you argue with me Homer.  You and I both know that man needed
killing, and Bobby didn't mean to do that anyway.  He was just trying to
protect his teacher."

   Homer raised a hand.  "Mavis, you know I'll have to ask some questions.
Just don't let him wander off somewhere hard to find."

   She sniffed and tugged on Bobby's coat sleeve.  "Come along Bobby.  It's
past your bedtime."

   Homer shook his head, watching them go and turned to Jules, the only one
left in the room.  "Boy just killed a man, and probably saved a woman's
life ...  and he's got a bedtime.  If that don't beat all."

   Back home, Bobby was sent to bed on his own, while attention turned back
to Terrence.  Mavis had had to dose Terrence with whisky to sedate him
enough so that the doctor could sew up his hand.  Terrence fought the
drink, spitting it out, until Doctor Johansen had taken one stitch without
any anesthetic.  Then he had drunk what he was told to drink.  For a child
that small, it had only taken three ounces and he was out like a light.  It
had taken over forty stitches to put the hand back together, and the Doctor
still wasn't sure he'd have the full use of his fingers when it healed.  It
was the wee hours of the morning before any of the adults got to bed.

   School was cancelled the next day, of course.  Mavis didn't want people
to think that either she or Bobby were hiding or embarrassed so, despite
her late night, she got up and took Bobby to do the grocery shopping.  Word
had indeed spread all over town.  No one had been killed by violence in
Hampstead for thirty years or more, and it was all anyone could talk about.
Most people, once the dead felon was identified as a stranger, who had
probably ridden the rails into town and likely would have made his escape
the same way, decided that justice had been done.

   People weren't quite sure whether or not Rachel still had her virtue or
not, and that caused some arguments.  One group of five women banded
together and held out that, if she were truly soiled by the man, even
though it wasn't her fault, the town couldn't very well retain her as the
school teacher.  That group also concluded that the town needed no
vigilantes running around loose, and that Bobby would have to go too.

   Various people suggested that if, in the future, any daughters of these
five women were heard to be screaming, or seen to be suffering rape, it
would just be assumed they were trollops who needed no interfering
do-gooders bothering them.

   Several fistfights almost broke out.

   Once Rachel came out into public, though, all that changed.  The left
side of her face was swollen grotesquely and was the color of mixed hues of
black, blue, purple and yellow.  She had difficulty speaking clearly.  She
had obviously been beaten severely, and it made people ill to look at her.
She had recovered her equilibrium, though, after spending 48 hours in the
care of good and nurturing women.

   She had also heard about the five women who wanted to run Bobby out of
town, and it was for that reason that she appeared in public, disfigured as
she was.  She sought out each of the five women.  She faced each one of
them down and offered to let the woman examine her maidenhood herself to
determine its status.  When each one of the women refused, Rachel suggested
that they close their mouths and keep their opinions to themselves, turned
and walked out.

   In the end, Rachel was considered a heroine by most, though she'd be
hated by those five women for the rest of her life.  Three of them left
town after the war, tired of the grief they got over that incident. 
Rachel's telling of the story, and how, had it not been for Bobby, she'd
have been both raped and killed, also turned him into a local celebrity.

   Rachel wanted to start school up again after three days, but several
people convinced her to let her face heal more before the children saw her.
She looked in a mirror and had to agree that the smaller children would be
shocked and frightened.

   During the three days school was out, Bobby was a celebrity, not only in
town, but at home too.  Donations of clothing came in, the result of
Homer's description of what the boy was wearing when he was interviewed
about the incident.  Mavis had been there with him, while he wrote out his
description of events The only detriment to Bobby was that everyone's
estimation of his intelligence rose significantly.  He was no longer
considered to be simple minded.  Homer also saw several of the carvings
Bobby had been doing on the long winter evenings as he sat, listening to
the radio.  June Bug and Emily didn't much care for the radio shows, and
played on the floor then.  When Meg read, though, Bobby couldn't carve,
because his lap was full of little girls.

   Only Mavis had said anything to him about how everybody had
underestimated him.  She had seen and read what he wrote for the constable.
On the way back to the house she looked at him out of the side of her eye.

   "You're a lot smarter than you let on, aren't you?" she asked casually.

   Bobby looked over at her, but couldn't hold her eyes.  He wasn't ashamed
of what he had done ...  not in the way you or I might feel shame at doing
something sneaky.  He'd had a hard life, and getting what he could out of a
given situation was just something he had always done.  But these women had
been good to him, and he knew that.  He also knew that Mavis still didn't
know just how much of a trick he had been playing.  Acting simple-minded
was only the tip of the iceberg, as it were.

   He looked back in her eyes, which were still staring at him, and nodded.

   Mavis smiled and put her arm over his shoulder, pulling him against her.
"I suppose somebody who's gone through what you've gone through can't be
blamed for taking what advantage can be found.  You're a good boy Bobby.  I
know you've got a good heart."

   They walked on a bit further and Mavis spoke again.  "About Meg ..." She
looked over at the boy who acted so much like a man and stopped.  When he
looked at her there was something almost like fear in his eyes.  It
troubled her, but she couldn't put her finger on why.

   "Never mind," she said.  "Homer thinks you could sell your carvings,"
she said, changing the subject radically.

   Bobby, glad the subject had changed from Meg, raised an eyebrow.

   "Indeed" she said nodding.  "He thinks you could sell them at the Dry
Goods store.  They're really beautiful Bobby.  I'd like to have one
myself."

   Bobby had completed three more carvings, all of dogs.  He was working on
a horse, but wasn't happy with it.  He hadn't seen many horses up close,
and was using a picture in a book as his model.  Wood had been a problem at
first.  When Mavis had seen him trying to carve on one of the pieces of
wood he'd sneaked back out of Patrick's closet after "killing the Umpelty
Oog" she recognized that it was poor quality wood.  She took Bobby to the
attic, where some old furniture had been stored.  One table had a broken
leg and she had picked up that leg and handed it to Bobby, telling him it
was walnut.  It was hard to carve, but the results were, indeed, beautiful.
He'd used about a third of the table leg to make the carvings Homer had
seen.

   Having nothing else to say, Mavis finished the walk home without talking
further.

   Two days later Parson Jenkins visited Milleson House, his arms full of
donations for Bobby.  At the bottom of the pile were two sheets of
sandpaper.  "The constable asked me to give you these," he said simply,
handing them to Bobby.  Bobby had looked at the paper dubiously, and the
Parson then explained what it was for.  Bobby had lit up and ran to get one
of his finished pieces.  He'd smoothed it as best he could with the edge of
the knife.  The sandpaper made what was already beautiful a work of art.

   Being intelligent, he just assumed that, after the incident, bath time
would change.  He was sure he'd milked it for everything it was capable of
providing.  Now that the women all thought of him as just quiet, he assumed
they'd also assume he could bathe himself.

   It did change, but not in the way he had thought it might.

   The next bath night things went as usual, with Meg reading while the
smaller children got their baths in shifts.  On this particular night June
Bug went first, and Emily second.  When the last shift was out and dressed
and Meg had closed the book, she stood up and stretched backwards, her
hands on her slim waist.

   "Sally?" she called out.  "My back is sore tonight.  I don't know if I
could do all that bending over in the bathroom.  I'll put the little ones
to bed if you'll take care of Bobby.  Would that be all right?"

   Bobby sensed something disingenuous in her comment.  His finely honed
sense of survival recognized falsehoods many more times than not.  But he
didn't know why Meg would want to avoid their play.  She had obviously
liked what had happened between them.  He didn't understand women at all
most of the time, with a few exceptions.  So he just sat and waited for
something to happen.

   "Surely Meg" said Sally.  "I guess that would be fine."

   Mavis looked like she was about to speak, but then went back to dressing
Terrence, who had trouble due to the big wad of bandages on his injured
hand.

   "Come on Bobby," said Sally, and held out her hand.

   Bobby got up and, as he followed her into the bathroom, remembered her
kiss, his reward for killing the Umpelty Oog.  He began to suspect that
this was no accident, and for some reason that made him feel good.

   When Sally closed the door, however, she looked pale and nervous.  She
didn't fill the tub, as Meg always did.  Bobby, by habit, just stood there.

   "I don't know what to do," she said, as if she were talking to someone
else, or perhaps herself.  She wasn't talking about the bath part of why
she was in this room, but, of course, Bobby didn't know that.

   Bobby took her hand and led her to the hot water tap.  She tittered
nervously and relaxed a little bit, turning her head to look at Bobby.

   "I know what you and Meg do in here," she said.  Bobby tensed up.  "She
told me about it," she went on.  Bobby relaxed again.

   She didn't seem upset to Bobby, and he decided to just simply act
normal. That had worked for him in the past.  Sally finally started filling
the tub with hot water.  He started unbuttoning his shirt.  Sally turned to
watch him, her eyes going wider, but she didn't move away from him.  He
wasn't hard, and when he dropped his pants and stepped out of them, and
then removed his drawers, Sally looked almost unhappy as she stared at his
manhood.  She had forgotten the water, and Bobby reached past her to shut
it off before there was no room to add cold to it.  Sally blushed and
moved.

   "Whatever is wrong with me?" she said, again to herself.  "I'm a grown
woman," she said firmly.  She turned to Bobby.  "Just how much help do you
really need?" she asked.  When he made no sign she asked "Do you need any
help at all?"

   Bobby knew he couldn't lie to this woman.  She was too intelligent for
one thing - she read as well as Meg did, though not with the emotion of
voice.  And she claimed to know what he and Meg had done, yet came with him
anyway.

   He shook his head.

   "But you want me to help ...  don't you?" she asked.  Her natural fear
of rejection had bubbled up to the surface of her thoughts.  She didn't
know what she'd do of Bobby rejected her too.

   Bobby smiled and nodded.

   Sally felt a rush of relief that made it suddenly hard to breathe.  She
felt her nipples tingle at that smile.  She too thought he had the most
beautiful dark eyes and welcoming smile she'd ever seen.

   Bobby stepped into the tub and sat down slowly, because the water was
hotter than usual.  He made a sighing sound and leaned back, closing his
eyes.  Then he opened them, sat forward, reached for the sweet smelling
soap, handed it to Sally, and then leaned back to close his eyes again.

   She knelt by the tub, rubbing the soap all over his chest.  He had a
little more muscle there now and she liked the feel of the swells and dips
of his chest.  Knowing how sensitive her own nipples were, she washed over
his several times.  She was about to nervously take the plunge of rubbing
lower when he sat forward, leaning over to expose his back.  Her eyes took
in his scars, and her reaction was much the same as Meg's.  She touched him
tenderly there, at first, but it was clear he had no residual pain.

   Then he stood up, and turned to face her.  He was still soft.  Since he
and Sally had never done anything he didn't know what to expect, and his
emotions were still fairly sedate.

   "Should I wash you ...  there?" asked Sally, her hand rising toward his
penis.

   He nodded.

   "I've never done this Bobby," she said.

   Bobby leaned over and kissed her, his lips soft.  She rose into that
kiss as his tongue tip wormed its way between her lips.  Her own tongue
responded and again she was breathless at the pleasure that streaked
through her.  She could feel that he really WANTED to kiss her ...  that
she was attractive to him in some way.  Part of her couldn't believe that,
but his lips on hers made it clear, beyond doubt, that he wanted her to
kiss him back.  She did, pressing herself against him as much as possible
with the edge of the tub in the way.  She knew she was getting her dress
damp, from the drops of water still on his body, and remembered seeing Meg,
with water spots on the front of her dress.  Meg had taken her dress off
for this boy ...  had let him touch her body.

   Sally pushed away, as the emotion of contemplating being naked with him
overcame her.  It was too foreign.  She thought of the other things Meg had
done.  She could do that, she thought.  Her hand reached for his penis and
she was shocked to find it longer and much more firm.  She looked down and
saw that her hand had felt truly.  Her hand gripped him, but didn't move
until he reached and moved it for her.

   She learned the rhythm quickly, and could tell by his face when she was
doing it the way he liked.  Her nipples tingled again and she thought back
to a time, over a year gone now when they had gotten a baby whose mother
had died in childbirth.  The father was off at war.  They had to bottle
feed the baby, which was going to be collected by relatives from
California, but it would take a week for them to arrive.  Sally had the
first night feeding, and the baby was hungry, but didn't want the rubber
nipple it was offered.  Its piteous cries In the night had stabbed deep
into Sally's heart and, in desperation, she had offered it one of her own
nipples.  It quieted immediately as its first sucks made her nipple extend.
She had so little breast flesh that she could pass for a man if she tried.
Her hips could give her away, or her nipples, if they got erect.  The baby
had sucked and, when the sensations were so strong that they almost made
her faint, Sally had pulled that baby off that nipple, which had extended
to almost an inch.  It looked deformed to her in the dim light of the
bedroom.  She had been able to get the baby to take the bottle eventually,
but had to offer it a real nipple three more times before it went back to
sleep.

   Sally let go of Bobby's penis and stepped back.  "I can't get wet with
you," she whispered.  Her fingers flew to the buttons of her dress and she
pulled it apart with no sense of shame at all, baring her flat chest and
letting the dress drop to the floor around her feet.  Her passion had
overcome her self image.  Her pubic hair was so sparse that it was hard to
see, but Bobby easily saw thick, plump lips between her legs that he
suddenly thought might be nice to kiss, like the lips on her face.  Then
she stepped forward, out of her dress and took his prick in her hand again.

   She pinched a nipple, which had already begun to swell and elongate as
she stroked Bobby.

   "Could you suck me?" she whispered.  "Right here?" she pulled at the
nipple.

   Bobby leaned over and sucked the growing nubbin into his mouth.  Sally
moaned, her hand clasping his prick tighter and jerking spasmodically,
rather than in time.  Bobby felt the flesh in his mouth get bigger and more
firm, until it was almost like sucking the tip of his little finger.

   Sally wavered, her head spinning at the streaks of joy that shot through
her due to his suckling action.  Her hand came and cradled the back of his
head, her fingers sliding through his long hair as she told him how much
she loved what he was doing.

   Her orgasm frightened her, because she'd never had one and didn't have
any idea how strong those feelings could be.  First she couldn't breathe.
Then her knees sagged and she had to grab the edge of the tub to support
herself.  Her whole body froze.  She couldn't breathe, her hand stopped
moving on Bobby, and her knees bent and then locked.  She felt the pleasure
streak to the area between her legs and she suddenly wanted to touch
herself there, but couldn't without falling down.

   "Uhhhhhhh" she groaned in a long sigh as the feeling receded enough that
she could move again.  Her knees failed and she sank to rest on them, her
face right in front of her hand, and the tip of Bobby's penis.  When Meg
had described putting her mouth on him Sally had shuddered, thinking that
was crazy.  Now she looked at the organ and knew it had to be as good as
Meg had said.

   She leaned forward to let it slide between her lips.

   She had to move her hand to get as much in her mouth as she wanted, and
Bobby groaned.  Her whole body felt hot, like it was next to a huge red-hot
stove, as she knew from the sound that she was pleasing the man who had
pleased her so much.  He cheeks caved in as she sucked hungrily.  She
tasted something, and, as her mouth evaluated that taste, she knew it was
the taste that Meg had talked about.  It was a mixture of a hint of bitter,
with a stronger hint of sweet, and another sensation she couldn't identify.


   She knew he liked to be stroked, and since she couldn't move her hand,
she moved her mouth instead, sliding almost off, to suck just the round
knob and then back down.  Bobby groaned again and she got more of that
taste.  His hands slid through her hair and he helped her move, not
grabbing tightly, but with a feather light pressure.

   Then he groaned again and suddenly her mouth was overflowing with the
taste ...  his taste.  She wanted to laugh as she thought of a time she had
taken as big a bite of pudding into her mouth as she could get on the
spoon. The pudding had flowed all over her mouth in an explosion of flavor,
and now his juice did the same thing.  She swallowed gratefully, liking the
taste now, like Meg did, and wanting it to go on.  She sucked harder and
moved her mouth on him again, milking the thick fluid out of him until
there was no more.  His penis wilted quickly, and she felt sad somehow that
it was over so quickly as she pulled her mouth off of him and swallowed the
last dregs that still coated her mouth.

   Bobby wanted to hug her ...  to feel her naked skin against his, and he
started to step out of the tub.

   Still on her knees, Sally giggled.  "No, silly" she said.  "You're still
all soapy."

   To Bobby's disappointment, she pushed him back down into the water and
then stepped back into her dress and pulled it up to cover her.  Then she
washed him properly, doing his hair and talking to him, telling him how
much she had liked tasting him, and how wonderful his mouth had felt on
her.

   When she was done, and he stood back up he was stiff again.

   Sally laughed a high tinkling laugh of delight.  He wasn't quite as hard
as he had been before, but Sally didn't care.  She got to her knees again
and happily sucked until she got another mouthful of pudding.

   When he was dried off she hugged him then, and kissed his lips, wanting
another of those delicious kisses.  Then she checked her hair in the mirror
and, taking his hand, led him out into the dining room.

   Mavis was doing more of her endless needlework, mending a pair of pants
that had somehow gotten the knee torn.  Meg had put the children to bed
with Donna and Prudence's help.  Normally the latter two would have
buttoned up their coats and gone home by now, but for some reason they all
found cause to sit around the table.  Their conversation would have sounded
normal to an outsider, but to Mavis it was obviously forced, as they found
things to say that didn't need saying, and talked about things they could
have talked about on the morrow.  Meg had gotten Bobby's night shirt from
his room while she was upstairs, and had draped it over a chair back. 
Mavis's keen eyes saw Meg's glance dart to the bathroom door more than once
as she talked about a new recipe she had gotten from the storekeeper's
wife.

   Again, Mavis was about to speak of her suspicions, but as she drew
breath, the bathroom door opened and all conversation stopped.  Mavis
almost laughed out loud.  She looked at Sally, whose face had a luster that
was usually lacking.  She wasn't smiling, exactly, but she looked
lighthearted in a way that was alien to her usual demeanor.

   "You look like you just got some mighty good news," Mavis remarked, her
eyes going back to her work.

   Had she been watching, she'd have seen Sally blush.  She took the time
to dart a glance at Bobby's penis.  It looked darker than the last time
she'd seen it.  HE was smiling.  It wasn't a grin, but it spoke volumes to
Mavis.  Meg stood up and picked up his night shirt.  He raised his arms as
she slid it up them and over his head.  It all looked so normal ... 
almost. But Meg's fingers lingered on his shoulders, and slid to his chest
to grab the material and pull it down.  She was smiling too ...  at Bobby.

   Mavis almost laughed again as all four women hugged the boy good night.
They were so transparent.  She'd have to do something soon, before things
got completely out of hand ...  if they hadn't already.  She was surprised
when he came to her and bent to kiss her on the cheek.  She was also
surprised at how that made her feel.  It was just a simple kiss, but it was
so loving that it made her want to wiggle in her chair.

   "Good night Bobby," she said.  He smiled.  She realized she could get
lost in those eyes.

   Both Meg and Sally took him upstairs to his room, while Donna and
Prudence decided suddenly it was time to go.

   Yes, she was going to have to do something ...  and do it soon.



   CHAPTER SEVEN

   The swelling in Rachel's face went down considerably, but the color was
slow to fade.  She decided that school had to go on, despite the condition
of her face.  It had been four days since the attack, and she was going
crazy trying to find some way to be useful to the people who had helped
her.

   When Meg and Sally got the children to school, and they saw Rachel's
face, they were aghast.  They'd heard all about the incident, of course,
but had not seen the woman.  Her face was still a sickly yellow and purple
color on the left side, while the right side of her face looked almost
normal.  Her lips were still split and swollen where her intended rapist
had struck her, and the wound from the knife on her throat was clearly
visible.

   "Would you like us to stay for a while?" asked Meg impulsively.  "To
help?"

   Rachel looked at her, assessing her as a woman, and as a person from
town, and, for the first time, as a potential friend.  Rachel didn't have
many friends ...  hadn't tried to make any really.  Now, though, with the
outpouring of care from women whose names she hadn't even known before the
incident, her attitude about other women had changed.  Her brush with death
had made both subtle and not-so-subtle changes in her outlook on life.  She
had done some serious thinking once she could martial thoughts at all.  The
four women who had taken her from her house had mothered her like hens,
even trying to spoon feed her.  Their obvious concern pulled her mind back
to sanity and then overrode what would have been her normal irritation at
having to rely on others.  She had felt safe with them as they drew her
life story from her, sometimes against her will, but in a way that made her
glad that now, at least, somebody in this town knew something about her and
accepted her as ...  as what?  She had thought about that too, and the
realization that those four women would be content calling her their friend
had cut through her tough exterior like the knife that she had known would
take her life.

   Their chatter had soothed her in ways that nothing else would have. 
Eventually she had been able to appreciate their outlook on life, here in
this harsh place.  One woman, when she had been giving Rachel a sponge bath
had sighed and said "I'd just kill to have a body like yours.  Then maybe
Herb would look at me like he looks at you."

   That had led to a very frank discussion of men, and their faults, and
Rachel found out just how valuable a good reputation was.  The women didn't
blame her at all for being beautiful, or for the fact that every man in
town - at least according to them - had been seen raking their eyes over
her body while she walked, or shopped.  They blamed the men for having
wandering eyes and talked about other beautiful women who did NOT have the
sterling reputation that Rachel had.

   And now, here was another woman who seemed to care about her for some
reason.  And she knew this woman to be single.  She was good looking too,
in a frontier sort of way.  Rachel chided herself for that
characterization. That was what the old Rachel would have thought.  Now she
looked at the young woman and admitted that, anywhere in the world men
would notice ...  she didn't even know her name!

   "I'm sorry" said Rachel thickly.  "I know I should remember your name."

   "Meg" said the woman.

   "And I'm Sally" said the other one.

   "Could you read to some while I work on math with the others?" she
asked, worried that she might embarrass them.  It was still possible these
days that people were illiterate.

   "I love to read," said Meg, smiling.  '

   "And I can do whatever," added Sally.

   There was a mild rebellion involving some of the older Milleson children
when they found out Meg was going to read, while they were expected to work
on their numbers.

   "I read to them at home," said Meg, shrugging her shoulders.

   Then all the children wanted to know what had happened to their teacher.
They stared at her face with the unbridled curiosity of children.

   Rachel raised her hands for quiet.

   "A bad man wanted to hurt me.  He DID hurt my face," she said.  "But
Bobby saved me and made the man stop hurting me."

   All the children's eyes went to Bobby, who had been standing silently in
the background, watching the women talk.

   "Really!?" asked Patrick, his voice awed.  "He killed the Umpelty Oog
when it was in the closet!" he said excitedly.  "And then he ATE it!"
Patrick stuck out his chest like he was the one who had done everything.

   Rachel looked at Meg and mouthed "Umpelty Oog?"

   Meg mouthed back "Imaginary monster."

   Rachel smiled and then winced as her lip cracked open again.  "Well,
Bobby is my hero," she said firmly.  "I'm not surprised he does nice things
for other people too.  Now, we have learning to do!"

   She hustled around, separating the groups and waving at the book shelf,
which had only a dozen worn volumes on it.  Meg looked at them and picked
one to read from.

   By the time any of them noticed it, the morning had passed and it was
time to adjourn school.

   "Oh my" said Sally.  "Mavis will be having fits over us being gone so
long."

   Meg nodded and then looked at Rachel.  "Will you be keeping Bobby late
today?"

   Rachel shook her head.  "I'm tired, and the doctor has ordered me in no
uncertain terms to rest in the afternoons.  It will be a week or so before
I can spend extra time with him."

   When the children were all bundled up and ready to leave, Rachel touched
Meg's arm.

   "Thank you.  I mean that.  It was nice of you to stay.  I know you can't
do that often, but I'm really glad I got to meet you.  You too Sally.  I'm
sorry we never got to spend any time together before this."

   Meg smiled.  "Well, it was just the neighborly thing to do, that's all.
But you're welcome."

   Mavis wasn't actually having fits at the absence of her employees.  She
rarely got any time to herself.  There were always children or other women
around, for the most part.  She didn't worry about her employees.  She did
wonder where they'd gotten to, but spent the time writing a letter to her
sister that she'd put off for a month.  It needed to be a long letter to
tell all the news, and she was, in the end, grateful that she'd been able
to get it done.

   Sally tried to take the brunt of the blame when the children all piled
into the parlor and began taking their coats off.

   "We stayed to help Rachel," she said.  Taking Meg's line, she added "It
seemed like the neighborly thing to do."

   "Well, considering what happened, I suppose it was," admitted Mavis. 
"Don't make it a habit, though.  There's things around here that need
doing."

   "She's nice," said Meg.  "Nicer than I thought."

   "Is she now?" said Mavis.  "Actually it was kind of nice around here ...
quiet for once.  I just wish I'd have known.  I'd have had a nice long soak
in that tub you all love so much."

   Neither woman took the bait, though, and Mavis, once again, let it drop.

   About an hour later though, Meg stopped beside Mavis, on her way to do
laundry.  "You know, if we helped out at school say, one day a week?  You
could have that nice long soak."

   Mavis snorted.  But then she said "I guess I could at that."

   That night, as they listened to the radio, Bobby pulled out the table
leg and began carving on the end of it.  It was shorter than it had been in
the beginning, but still looked a little awkward, and Mavis decided to go
visit the cabinetmaker's shop down on Broadway.

   The next day, while the children were in school, she did just that,
taking Bobby's table leg with her, with its half finished carving on the
end.  Sher also took two of his finished carvings, which were set high on a
shelf to keep them away from the children.

   "Good work," said the man, examining the face of a German Shepherd, its
ears stiff and raised, as if it heard something.  "No need to ruin good
furniture.  I got lots of scraps laying around.  I'd be glad to be rid of
them.  You say it's that boy who done this?  The one what saved that girl
from the rapist?"

   Mavis went home with a gunny sack filled with chunks of cherry, walnut,
pecan and mahogany.  When she dumped out the sack for Bobby that afternoon
she found more sandpaper too and a roll of oilpaper that had various
chisels inside it.  A small wooden mallet was rolled up with them.  There
was also a disk shaped carving, that looked a little like a sunburst with a
face in the center.  The cabinetmaker had said it was designed to go on a
tall chest of drawers, with fancy woodwork framing a mirror on top.  The
disk, he said, would be attached above the mirror.  He had suggested that
Bobby attempt to reproduce it.  The tools, he said, could be returned at
some unspecified time in the future.

   Bobby, when he came in from school, picked up the tools and examined
them.  Then he looked at the sunburst carving which, he noticed, had a
crack running through it that had ruined it.  He found a board end that was
about the right size, put it on his lap, and started removing slivers of
wood with the tools.  As Mavis watched him, she realized that with the
board on his lap, it was more difficult than if were on a more solid base.
She motioned to Prudence and they went up to the attic and brought down an
old stained and scratched Queen Anne end table that a chair could be drawn
up to and one's legs put under.  Once a couple of thin strips of wood had
been fastened to two sides of the top, it provided a place where Bobby's
scrap of wood could be laid and stabilized as he pushed or tapped a chisel.
The work went faster and was cleaner after that.

   It only took Bobby four hours to make the reproduction.  It was rougher
than the original, the lines not as straight, and the face not as crisp,
but the women thought it was gorgeous.

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

   On Wednesday, Bobby somehow got coal dust all over his face and hands
when he did his chores.  He'd never had that problem before.  His shirt was
black as well.  He didn't seem to notice, and sat at his table to try
smoothing the sunburst face he had carved.  Mavis walked by and saw the
condition he was in.

   "What in the world happened to you?" she asked.  "I hope you don't think
you're coming to my table for supper looking like that.  We're having a
guest tonight.  Meg invited your teacher to come for supper."

   Bobby looked at his hands innocently.  There was paper and pencil beside
him.  Paper and pencils lay all over the house now.  He wrote the word
"Bath?" on it.

   Mavis looked at him shrewdly.  "One of these days I'm going to have to
find out just what goes on in there," she said.  Bobby looked at her as
innocently as he'd looked at his hands.  She thought briefly about just
taking him into the bathroom herself.  But she had to get ready for supper.

   "Prudence!" she called.  Prudence looked up from the beef hindquarter
she was butchering on the cutting table in the kitchen.

   "I'll finish that up.  Bobby's gotten himself filthy and says he needs a
bath.  Since both Meg and Sally are in town, why don't you take care of it
this time."

   Mavis almost laughed as Prudence lit up with a smile and immediately
abandoned the meat that would be their supper for days to come.

   Bobby had been thinking about Meg.  He had dirtied himself with coal
dust on purpose, knowing that Mavis would demand he clean up.  His ploy to
get a bath in the middle of the week had worked, but not quite as he had
planned.  On the other hand, Prudence's lush body was interesting too.  The
only two women Bobby had ever seen naked were Meg and Sally, and they were
as different as night and day.  He wondered if he might get to widen his
available store of information with Prudence.

   Prudence, as it turned out, had been thinking about her unfaithful
soon-to-be ex-husband, over in Europe.  She was tortured by visions of him
and his no-doubt young tart, clasped together, making the beast with two
backs ...  making a baby in her ...  instead of in Prudence, where it
belonged.  She had seen Bobby naked before, and it only made things worse.
Or better.  It depended on how she looked at it.  Right now, she wanted to
see him naked again.

   Taking him in the bathroom she started the bath water while Bobby added
coal to the heater.  She turned to see him standing, his hands at his
sides.

   "Well, go on.  You can't take a bath in your clothes.  I've seen you
unclothed before." She watched as he took his shirt off.  He now had pants
that fit him better, and removing his suspenders no longer made them drop
as if they had stones in them.  When he pushed them down and stepped out of
his drawers, his penis was half hard and stuck out.  It was much larger
than when she'd seen it limp and satisfied before.

   "Oh my," she said, her breathing increasing.  "Has it ever done that
when Meg or Sally was in here?" she asked.

   Bobby nodded and stepped into the tub.  He stepped back out quickly. 
The water was too hot.

   "Oh dear me," she said, turning to mix some cold water in.  "I'm sorry.
I don't know what I was thinking." What she had been thinking was that if
it looked like that half hard, she was going to do her best to see what it
looked like fully erect.  Prudence had her own suspicions about what went
on at bath time.  She too had seen Sally's glow when she finished bathing
Bobby.

   Bobby stepped back in, took the soap from the window sill and handed it
to Prudence before sitting down.

   "So they wash you?" she asked.

   He nodded and splashed water all over himself, trying surreptitiously to
get some on Prudence too.  She was too far away though.  She came closer
and bent over to dip the soap in the water, and then placed it on his chest
and moved it around.  She worked on his arms, then, feeling his muscles
moving under the skin.  Whenever she looked at his face, he was staring
back at her with his big, brown eyes.  The water turned dark with washed
off coal dust and she told him to close his eyes so she could do his face.
Then she put the soap in his hand and cupped water in both of hers to pour
over his face, rubbing it clean.  Now was the part she had been waiting
for.

   "Stand up now Bobby," she said.

   When he did she wasted no time soaping her hands and going straight for
his penis.  It lengthened in her hands and became rigid.

   "On dear me," she said softly, feeling her gut clench.  "Do the others
wash you like this?"

   Bobby smiled and nodded.

   "And do you like this?" she asked.

   He smiled wider and nodded with more enthusiasm.

   She moaned, and her pace increased.

   "Does anything ever ...  come out ...  of it?" she asked, blushing.

   Bobby's smile got even wider as he nodded.

   "Ohhhhhhhh" she moaned.

   Prudence was on fire.  Her husband had been gone for two years, before
which she was, unknown to her, a highly sexed woman.  She had reveled in
the things they did in the bedroom, feeling like she had been set free from
the strictures of society's denial that she should have sexual feelings. 
And the sudden withdrawl of those pleasures had hit her hard.  Then, after
struggling through all that time of going without pleasure she loved, he
told her he wasn't going without, but that she'd have to go without
forever. In all the time he'd been gone, even after getting the letter in
which he said he'd found another woman and wasn't coming back to her, she'd
never considered cheating on him.

   Until now.

   But Prudence was older than Meg and Sally, if only by a few years.  Her
level of control, while strained, was based on the fact that Mavis was out
on the other side of that door.  Her mind whirled as, with a strong, young
penis in her soapy hands, Prudence thought wildly about what she wanted to
do with it.  Perhaps, depending on how you, the reader, will evaluate
things in the end, it was fortunate that while she thought, her hand
assumed what, for her, was a natural stroking motion.  Her mental state was
intruded upon when Bobby's penis suddenly swelled in her hand.

   Prudence, knowing what to expect, aimed it down, into the water.

   They both let out a long sigh as thick streams of milky white spunk
splashed into the water and Bobby bent his knees a little.  Prudence
watched in fascination as three and then four healthy spurts followed the
first two.  Her own knees sagged a little and the heat between her legs
flared.

   She let go of him and looked at her hand, as if it were someone else's
and she couldn't believe it was somehow attached to her arm.  she was just
as surprised when that hand went back to the wilting phallus of her charge
and milked the shrinking organ to ensure that all his sperm was out of it.

   Then she, in a very businesslike voice, said "All right.  Now that
that's taken care of, out of the tub and let's get you dried off."

   Bobby, partly disappointed that things hadn't been as intense as they
were with Meg and Sally, was non-the-less happy that she had made him feel
good, and he obeyed, standing quietly as she ran the towel all over him. 
Then, as the other two had, Prudence led him out of the bathroom naked. 
Since his clean clothes weren't lying in a pile of washing on the floor,
she simply told him to go up to his room and get dressed.

   Mavis had watched as the door to the bathroom opened and the two came
out.  Her eyes went immediately to Bobby's penis, which was flaccid and
completely normal looking, though dark again.  Then she examined Prudence,
who looked normal as well.

   "Everything go all right?" she asked innocently.

   "Yes," said Prudence, distracted by what was going on under her calm
outward appearance.  "He does splash a lot, though," she said, just for
something else to say.  She looked around, like she wasn't quite sure where
she was.  "How long until supper?" she asked.

   Mavis, who detected Prudence's scatterbrained undercurrent, and was
intrigued by that, said "Oh, I don't know.  Several hours I suppose.  Why?"

   Prudence, her speech just a little too fast to be normal, said "Oh, I
was just thinking that I forgot all about the fact that the coal truck is
coming to my house today.  I guess all that coal dust I just washed off of
him reminded me.  I've let the bin get in a terrible state and need to
clean it up."

   All that was true.  There was, in fact, a layer of coal dust in the
basement of Prudence's little three room house.  She noticed it whenever
she tracked the dust upstairs as she refilled her own coal bucket, but
normally just wiped her feet on a rag rug at the top of the stairs.  Now,
though, her lust-fogged mind thought about things a little differently.

   She turned to Mavis.  "Do you think it would be all right if Bobby came
over and helped me get that cleaned up?

   Mavis' sharp eyes examined her employee.  The woman was tense.  Bathing
Bobby did ...  something ...  to all the women.  "You just gave him a
bath!"

   Prudence's mind came back to the here and now.  "Well ...  yes ...  of
course.  It's just that I forgot.  I mean that's what reminded me." She
looked disappointed somehow.  "I suppose it will wait."

   Mavis couldn't really tell what was going on in the auburn-haired
woman's mind.  But coal dust was something that was dangerous if left
untended, and her maternal instincts took over.

   "No, you're right.  That needs to be taken care of.  We've been busy
lately, what with extra mouths and all.  And baths don't kill the boy.  Go
ahead and take him.  Just make sure his hair is dry before you take him out
in the cold.  I don't want him getting sick.

   The change in Pru's demeanor was startling.  She smiled as if she had
just gotten a new dress.  Without another word she turned and went toward
the stairs.

   Prudence and Bobby came down shortly after that, Bobby dressed in clean
clothes, and then Prudence got him dressed in his coat and hat.  As they
were leaving Sally came into the room.

   "Where are they going?" she asked.

   Pru has a chore at her house that Bobby's going to help her with," said
Mavis.

   "Oh, that's nice," said Sally.

   Sally had no idea how "nice" that was ...  for both Prudence and Bobby.
The trek through the snow was relatively easy, except that warmer
temperatures, followed by more cold, had frozen the crust of the snow, and
a pedestrian was momentarily supported by the stiff crust, only to fall
through to the powdery snow underneath.  When they got to the house
Prudence, to her credit, did take Bobby down to the cellar and did, in
fact, sweep up the coal dust that had settled from the last two deliveries
of coal, that billowed the fine black particles into the air as it slid
down the chute and into the bin.  She had him do that job while an argument
raged within her.

   But that cleanup only took ten minutes.  They filled a bucket and Bobby
lugged it up the stairs to the main room, where the stove was.  Prudence
stood and looked at him.

   "Bobby?" she said, looking at his buttocks through the tight cotton
pants he was wearing, as he bent over to set the bucket down.  He swiveled
his head and looked up at her.

   "Did you like what happened in the bathroom?" she asked nervously.

   He smiled and nodded his head.

   "And the others ...  they do that for you too?"

   Bobby nodded again.

   Prudence felt the heat, which had only dimmed a little since she saw his
streams of semen splashing into the bath water, well up in her loins again.

   "Bobby I need you to do something else for me," she said, feeling her
control slipping.  "Would you do that for me Bobby?"

   A boy who talked would have simply said "Sure, what is it?" But, of
course, Bobby didn't talk.  He nodded the "Sure" but didn't ask the "What
is it?"

   Prudence took his hand and pulled him to her bedroom.

   "Take off your clothes Bobby," she said, amazed that her voice didn't
crack.  She began to unbutton her own clothing.

   Prudence, like many women of that era, wore panties, but nothing on her
breasts under her dress.  As a young woman she had worn corsets, but those
were going out of vogue.  The new brassieres that were available were too
expensive, so she just went without.  Her breasts were heavy and sagged to
some degree, but they were firm and full too, with large, flat, brown
nipples.

   She had never thought much about her nipples.  They were there, for
babies when they came.  Her husband had mauled her breasts with his hands,
which felt wonderful, but he had never used his mouth on her other than to
kiss her with his tobacco and beer tinted breath.  And he resisted touching
her between her legs because he thought that was dirty.  Still, the feel of
his penis rutting in her lustily had been something she couldn't get enough
of.  She didn't always reach orgasm with him, but loved the feel of him in
her anyway.

   She felt the cold as she took her dress off, and turned to fold back the
covers on the bed.  For what she wanted to do they'd want those covers over
them for comfort.

   Bobby, being an intelligent boy, recognized that something nice was
going to happen.  It wasn't a bath, but then, if he got to feel her skin
against his, he didn't really care.  He liked to look at the women when
they were naked, and noticed all the differences between them.  But he
noticed the similarities too, and they all felt and tasted good.  He saw
Prudence's flat nipples and wondered it they'd get long and stiff like
Sally's had when he sucked at them.  Getting naked with a woman meant you
got to do that, and he wanted to try that with Prudence.

   So, when Prudence turned back around, she wasn't quite prepared for what
Bobby did.  In all truth, she didn't have a "plan".  With her husband,
things had always gone as he wanted them to go, and she just responded. 
Bobby suddenly leaned over to suck in her left nipple.  It had begun to
tighten in the cool air, but was still loose enough that he was able to
suck in enough to swirl his tongue around.

   Prudence experienced something new.  It was not only new, it was
devastating.  She actually bent double, jerking the nipple out of his mouth
and hitting his head with her own.  Then she sat down on the edge of the
bed, holding her head as Bobby knelt beside her, touching her hair with
concern.

   "I'm fine," she said.  "I was just surprised." She reached up and
touched the nipple he'd sucked.  It still tingled.  Then, making a decision
that would change her life, she lay back the bed, shoving the covers over
so she could make room for Bobby too.

   "Do that some more," she whispered.

   Two or three minutes later, Prudence was beside herself.  When he
suckled at her breasts, the exquisite pain/pleasure sensations she felt
shot straight between her legs.  Her hand slid inside her panties and she
rubbed, spreading her legs.  She was gasping for air when he stopped.  He
was sitting on the side of the bed, and had been pleasuring her for what
seemed like hours, but was only a few minutes.  She opened her eyes and
they went to his groin, where his erection stuck up out of the brown hair
there.  His hand stroked her belly as he looked at her nearly nude body. 
What was in his eyes made Prudence want to scream with joy and she lifted
her hips, shoving her panties down and off of one leg.  They hung up at her
other ankle, but she didn't care as she spread her legs.

   "Touch me there Bobby," she gasped, gripping his hand and pushing it
between her legs.

   He rubbed her with the flat of his hand, finding her slippery lips and
liking the feel of the smooth skin below all that brown hair.  Her hips
jerked up off the bed and then fell back with a soft thump as her buttocks
landed and she groaned.  He experimented a little, rubbing this way, and
that, and watching how she reacted.  That was how he found the little bump
between those slippery lips.  When he touched that her hips bounded up off
the bed again and she put her hand in her mouth to stifle a cry.

   "Bobby ...  ohhh Bobby," she whispered, between filling her mouth with
her hand.  "Ohhh love me Bobby ...  pleeease love me."

   The only way Bobby knew how to show love was to kiss her, and he crawled
up to do that, pressing his lips to her and sliding his tongue into her
mouth.

   But Prudence knew how she wanted him to love her and she pulled on his
stiff penis, until he crawled between her legs as she lay spread under him.
His kisses were so sweet, and his breath so much nicer than what she
remembered about her husband, that she didn't hesitate in the slightest,
pulling his stiff prick to the opening of her sex.  When it got there she
pulled until she could feel the head part her pussy lips.  Then, with both
hands, she reached for his buttocks and in a surreal moment, as her fingers
felt the scars on his cheeks, she pulled and thrust toward him with her
hips.

   He slid into her completely in one long lunge.

   Now it was Bobby who felt something new.  Meg, and then Sally, had used
their mouths on him, and that felt hot, and wet and wonderful.

   But this ...  this was beyond wonderful.  "Hot" didn't quite describe
what he felt.  "Soft" wasn't a good enough word.  She hadn't had a prick in
her for two years and, though Bobby didn't know it, she was almost as tight
as a virgin.  The sensations that surrounded his penis ...  the firm
pressure on every square inch of that sensitive organ ...  the way her
cervical lips kissed and then surrounded the tip of his prick when his
hairs meshed with hers ...  and the groan of sexual satisfaction as she was
penetrated fully and completely ...  all those things were new to Bobby.

   His mind, surprised at the rush of overwhelming sensory inputs, shut
down momentarily.  His body took over.  It knew where his penis was, and
why it was there.  It did what it knew it was supposed to do.  It
transferred the contents of Bobby's scrotum to the small dark cave inside
of Prudence's body, filling it to overflowing with happy, active sperm
cells.

   Prudence's mind, in a dusty corner that hadn't been used in two years,
felt the rush of wet heat in her womb, and cried out that it was to be over
so soon.  Her reaction was like that of a person who has fallen deep in
water, has held her breath, struggling to reach the surface, lungs
straining, face finally breaking the surface ...  only to find
unbreatheable air there.  Yet, at the same time, that rush of heat deep
inside her was so welcome that another part of her mind breathed deeply of
it, lungs filling to the very bottom, almost bursting with clean, fresh,
life-giving oxygen.

   Bobby, completely unprepared for his ejaculation, felt the natural urge
to move his penis in Prudence ...  to keep his ejaculation going.  That
urge caused him to press deeper, pull out a little, and slam deep again. 
That felt fabulous, so he did it again ...  and again ...  and again.

   Prudence's mind stuttered.  When Harold did what Bobby had just done,
which he did quite often almost as quickly as Bobby had, he rolled off of
her and sighed contentedly.  But Bobby didn't do that.  Bobby, when he
flushed her full of that heat, began doing THEN what Harold only did
occasionally.  She realized that the penis that had made her feel so
complete only seconds before, had NOT wilted, like it had in the bathroom,
but was still firm.  And Bobby was poking and prodding her in the MOST
delightful way with that still-firm thing.  That air-starved part of her
mind opened its mouth again and breathed deeply.

   Bobby couldn't believe how wonderful it felt to slide in and out of
Prudence.  His mind, cleared by that mind-blowing orgasm, began to notice
the woman under him.  He felt her large, soft breasts, crushed under his
chest.  He felt her loins, bucking up at him, and her legs, which had
entwined with his.  He heard her agonized moans of joy as his stiff cock
plumbed her depths.  He heard the joy in her voice, and it spurred him to
keep doing what he was doing to make those sounds happen.  He didn't know
that his natural desire to go deep satisfied her desire to feel her clit
being mashed and abused.  He didn't know that his desire to please her
touched something deep inside her that no other man had taken the time to
touch.

   All he knew was that he liked doing this new thing, and if he could do
it for a long time, then he would make it last as long as he could.

   When she had an orgasm, he thought he'd hurt her, and stopped moving.

   "Ohhh Bobby don't stop baby," she moaned, her hands pulling at his
buttocks where they had been ever since he'd first slid into her.

   Reassured, he moved again.  Bobby was, by virtue of the need to survive,
an expert at watching people.  He was quite good, on an unconscious level,
at recognizing what made people happy.  And, if people were happy, they
were less likely to hurt you, and more likely to do things you wanted them
to do.

   Thus it was that Bobby, during his first complete sexual encounter, got
the chance to see what made a woman happy during sex.  His own genetic need
had been assuaged, and now he studied the woman under him, learning what
made her squirm and cry out with joy.  He watched her through two more of
those gut-wrenching episodes that he now realized were the woman's
equivalent of what he had felt as he spurted inside her.  He loved it when
she did that.  It made him feel good to be able to help her feel that way.

   Then, suddenly she flopped back, limp, her eyes closed, like she was
dead.  But her chest still heaved as she dragged in panting breaths.  He
somehow knew that it was time to stop.  He had been on the edge of spurting
again for several minutes, but had pushed it back, wanting to be able to go
on.  Now he let the urge to spurt loose.  He whined and pushed hard,
letting his balls pump their seed into her again before relaxing on top of
her, gasping himself.

   Prudence couldn't believe what had happened.  She was quite sure now
that Harold was somehow crippled sexually and that she just hadn't known
it. She had never had more than one orgasm at a time, and it had to be this
man on top of her who was responsible for that.  And he had even given her
that deep heat TWICE!

   "Ohhh Bobby" she sighed, playing with the hair on his head as he panted
on top of her.  "Thank you so much."

   He lifted his head, looking tired, but smiled and reached to kiss her
briefly.

   She didn't want to move, but had a panicky feeling that this had to have
taken hours, and that supper had probably already been served.

   "We have to go!" she said, pushing at him, and wishing they could just
stay in bed forever.

   Bobby, used to going where people told him to go, and doing what people
told him to do, got up.  He wished they could stay there too, warm under
the covers.  But he jumped up and dressed quickly to minimize the time his
body was exposed to the cold.

   Prudence did much the same thing.  Her mind whirled still over what had
just happened.  She darted quick glances at Bobby, suddenly glad he
couldn't talk ...  couldn't betray what they had just done ...  what she
was quite sure they would do again, if she had anything to say about it.

   "Bobby?" she said.  When he looked at her she had to ask the next
question.  "Have you done that before?" She was afraid of what his answer
would be.

   When he shook his head her jaw dropped.  "Really?  Not even with ... 
the others?"

   He shook his head again.

   "Oh," she said, feeling unaccountably happy that he hadn't done this
with anyone else.  Then she suddenly felt guilty for taking him so much
farther than the others.  "I don't suppose we should tell anyone we did
this," she said.  "I don't think they'd understand.  Usually only married
people do that."

   Bobby pointed at her and then lifted her hand to finger her wedding
band. Prudence realized for the first time that she had just cheated on her
husband.  A stab of guilt was immediately replaced by a feeling that she
had vindicated her status as a discarded wife.

   "Well, yes, I'm married, but my husband doesn't want me any more," she
said.  The pain she would have felt at saying that was strangely absent. 
Her brain was still flooded with dopamine, that blunted the guilt.  "But
most women don't do this with a man who isn't their husband.  People
wouldn't understand why this happened."

   He nodded, but looked confused too.

   "What I mean, Bobby, is that people wouldn't approve.  They wouldn't let
me be around you any more if they found out we did this.  But I want you to
know I loved it.  I'm glad it happened.  But it probably shouldn't have
happened ...  Oh I don't know WHAT to say," she ended up, beginning to feel
guilty again.

   Bobby, seeing the ambivalence in her face, took her hand.  He smiled. 
He brought one finger to his lips and she recognized that as his pledge not
to say anything.  She hugged him and he tried to kiss her, but she pushed
him away.

   "Not now.  If you kiss me we'll end up back in bed, and we have to get
back.  We've probably missed supper and Mavis will be up in arms."

   Then, in direct violation of her own statement, she kissed him firmly.

   "Thank you so much Bobby," she said, when she was done.  "I can't tell
you how much this means to me."

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

   They hurried through the snow and into the back door.  The food smells
as they entered Milleson House smote them like steam hits a bather in a
spa. But supper wasn't over.  It hadn't been served yet.  As it turned out,
they had been gone only an hour and a half.

   Mavis looked up from stirring a pot.  The cold air had robbed Prudence
of the well-fucked look she had had when they left her house.  Now she just
looked happy.

   "Get everything taken care of?" she asked.

   "Yes" said Prudence.  "Everything's fine now."

   "Didn't get too dirty," commented Mavis, eyeing the relatively clean
appearance of both.

   "We tried to be careful," said Prudence.

   "Good," said Mavis.  "Remember we have a visitor tonight," she said,
turning back to the stove.

   "Yes," said Prudence, squeezing Bobby's hand.  "I'll pitch in and help
get things ready.  Thanks again Bobby.  I couldn't have done that without
you."

   Bobby just grinned.



   CHAPTER EIGHT

   The children were excited when they found out Rachel was going to be
there for dinner that night.  The air of excitement transferred to the
women.  Meg and Sally, of course, were glad their new friend would be
coming.  For the others, there was the anticipation of having someone new
in the house, and they were interested to make their own judgment of this
woman who had been the topic of so much talk in town.

   Now, two weeks after school had started again, Rachel's face had healed
to the point where she merely looked jaundiced.  The dark black and purple
bruises had faded to a sickly yellow, and her lips had healed to the point
where she could speak plainly and they caused her no pain.  She wasn't
quite as self conscious about her appearance, and was happy that she was
going to break up the tedium of her normal existence by eating supper at
Milleson House.

   Plus, she'd get to see Bobby again.  She hadn't started tutoring him in
the afternoons again, yet.  She was still very tired after half a day of
dealing with children.  While she got to see him in school every day, she
missed getting to concentrate on just looking at him.

   As she hurried through the crusty snow she reflected on that thought. 
At school she acted completely normal toward him, and had been since school
had started back up.  He did the same things in the classroom he had always
done, helping the children, or reading.  Her attitude toward her hero, as
she had called him, was no different on the outside than it had ever been.

   But on the inside Rachel's attitude toward Bobby had undergone a vast
change.  Thankfully, a lot of what had happened to her during the attempted
rape was not available to her conscious memory.  She remembered the
incident, but there were large gaps in that memory.  Much of it had been
suppressed.  She remembered knowing that she was going to be raped.  That
had made her angry, because she had always treated her virginity as a
precious gift that she would one day offer to a man of her own choosing. 
She hadn't met a man who deserved it, in her opinion.

   It wasn't fair to say that she hadn't had sexual urges.  She had felt
them many times as she danced with some young man, or flirted at a party.
She had experimented between her legs, and knew what that thrill felt like.
And, at school, she was busy enough that she didn't let her mind dwell on
those infrequent sexual urges even more infrequent since she had moved to
Nebraska.

   But at night, when she lay in the bed where her cherished virginity had
almost been ripped from her by that savage man, and she thought about how
Bobby had looked that day in school, or remembered his eyes looking into
hers, she felt things that she wasn't prepared to feel.  Her mind
remembered how she had been naked in front of him, and that he hadn't tried
to hurt her, like the other man ...  how he had held her ...  how the
horror had been held at bay, as if it had some special power to keep her
safe.

   He HAD kept her safe.  He had saved her.  She had never been in love
before.  She didn't know what 'being in love' felt like.  But she had never
felt for a male like she felt for Bobby ...  in the night.  She tried not
to think about it, because it was frightening.  No, that wasn't the right
word.

   It was exciting.

   It made her want to be naked in front of him again.

   She didn't understand that urge ...  thought it was insane for her to
feel sexual toward someone who was so closely involved in the horror of
that incident.  She had examined that for hours, lying there, trying not to
slide her hand between her legs to press against that place that felt so
good to press.

   Over the long nights, though, she had come to realize that what her
attacker had been doing wasn't really about sex.  It was about dominating
her ...  taking from her ...  terrorizing her.  And Bobby wasn't like that.
He didn't take.  He gave.  As miserable as his life had been, he somehow
came down on the giving side of things and offered himself whenever he saw
a need.

   And, she had decided, she had a need.  She wanted Bobby to meet that
need.  She had no idea, however, how to go about that.

   That was why she was ambivalent about going to supper too.  Excited ...
and ambivalent at the same time.  She shook her head and laughed out loud.
How could a young man affect her like this?

   Then the door was in front of her, and her hand was knocking.  June Bug
opened it, smiling widely, pulling at her sleeve, welcoming her into the
warmth of the house.  A feeling of ecstasy welled up in her.  She was loved
and wanted here.  At least by this precious girl.

   That feeling was confirmed as she took off her coat, exposing the best
dress she owned, and had worn because being invited to supper seemed like
such an honor.  The children gathered around her, their voices mingling
into a cacophony of sound that, rather than grating on her ears, caressed
them.  She wiped at her eyes, ashamed that a mere greeting could make her
feel so powerfully wanted.

   Mrs.  Milleson pushed through the throng.

   "Here now!  Children!  Give the poor woman a chance to breathe," she
said, clearing a place around Rachel.  Rachel felt the woman's eyes on her
like she was under a magnifying glass, being scrutinized.  But the woman
had a smile on her face.

   "Welcome" she said.  "Come in.  Stand by the stove and warm yourself."
She pointed the way.  "You must be a wonderful teacher for these terrible
children to be so excited."

   "They're NOT terrible" said Rachel before she could stop herself.  She
blushed.  "I mean they're really wonderful Mrs.  Milleson.  You're doing a
wonderful job raising them."

   "Lands sakes, girl, call me Mavis," said Mavis.  "No need to be formal
around here." She continued looking at the young woman.  "I suppose they
are good children at that."

   The smells were wonderful, and the atmosphere was wonderful, and by the
time Rachel was seated at the table she wished it would go on forever.  She
recognized meager fare when she saw it, but the happiness on the faces of
the children was so real that the plain meal seemed right somehow.  She
watched as the women did what mothers everywhere do with children at meal
time and felt a sudden urge to have a roomful of children of her own.  Her
eyes darted to where Bobby sat, down the table.  He was helping Emily spoon
corn onto her plate.  She blushed at the thought that went through her
mind, and took a bite of roast quickly.  She wasn't used to thinking such
things, particularly not in public.

   Mavis had seated her at the head of the table, and had placed children
on both sides of her, in an unspoken invitation to join in the matronly
duties around the table.  She did so, feeling that she was lucky to be able
to do something so simple as helping a child eat.

   When all had been served, and the chatter had muted due to full mouths,
Mavis established some adult conversation.

   "Well, your color seems to be much improved," she said.

   Rachel was usually uncomfortable when someone talked about her face. 
Somehow, in this setting, it didn't bother her.

   "Yes, the doctor says I was very lucky, and that when everything heals
completely there will be almost no sign of what happened," she said.  She
still had to chew gently though.  Her jaw hadn't been broken, but whatever
held one's jaws together had been strained.

   "That's good," said Mavis.  "Beauty such as yours should not be
spoiled."

   Rachel blushed again, unaccountably pleased that this woman thought she
was beautiful.  She had always taken her beauty for granted.  Not any more.

   "Thank you," she mumbled.  Her eyes went again to Bobby as she wondered
if he thought she was beautiful too.  Always before she'd have assumed all
men found her beautiful.  Not any more.  "He said there will be some small
scars."

   Mavis looked closely at the woman's face.  Again she felt like she was
under a magnifying glass.  She nodded.  "Yes, I can see them now.  I don't
think they'll detract too much.  Lines on a face give it character."

   Mavis looked surprised that she'd said that and then laughed to cover
her own blush.  "Of course I'd say that.  Old women want to believe lines
make for character."

   Rachel was surprised.  Mavis Milleson might be in her mid thirties, but
she was certainly no old woman.  "How would you know?" she asked, meaning
it to be a compliment.  "Have old women told you so?"

   There were titters from several of the other women, Meg among them, but
smiles went with them.

   Mavis sat back in her chair.  She felt old sometimes.  That feeling had
come from a lot of things.  She had married well when she was nineteen, to
a merchant who provided her with a big house and announced that he wanted
her to fill it with his offspring.  What he did to advance that plan had
thrilled her to her very core.  But before he could put a baby in her womb
he had developed a cough that became worse and worse and then, tearing her
new and wonderful life apart, had taken him from her.  She was left with a
big, empty house, and the thought of trying to fill it with another man had
been unthinkable.  Turning that empty place into a boarding house had been
a thing of necessity, and running it had taken all her time and energy to
the point that she had settled into that role - the role of a widow woman
who ran a boarding house - and didn't think about that wonderful thing her
dead husband had done with her in their bedroom.  Slowly, her boarders
became her 'children', and she cared for them instead of for her own
offspring.  Then the depression came, and the war, and suddenly real
children filled her house.  That was both good and bad.  Good because her
old yearning to have a houseful of children was realized.  Bad because she
fell in love with them all, and some of them got taken away from her.

   They weren't taken like her husband had been taken, but the pain felt
almost the same.  And she was still too busy to think about that other
thing that was still missing from her life.  Because of that, and the
unending work she so willingly submerged herself in, she didn't feel young
any more.

   Rachel's blatant compliment made Mavis feel better than if a man had
whistled at her.

   "You're welcome at supper any time you want to come back." Mavis
grinned.

   Rachel was invited to stay after supper, to listen to the radio.  She
watched as Bobby sat nearby, working on a carving.  She saw others on a
shelf on the wall and went to examine them.  One was of a dog standing, one
front leg lifted, his back straight, his tail stiff and nose straining
forward.  It was gorgeous.  Another was of a bitch, lying on her side, with
puppies gorging at her teats.  That carving made it appear as if the dog
and her puppies were rising from the depths of the wood, appearing as they
drifted upwards.  It had an unfinished look, and at the same time made the
viewer realize the relationship between the unfinished original tree
underneath, and the living, breathing creatures the tree had yielded up.  A
third piece was a medallion of intricately carved interwoven lines that
formed a Gordian Knot.  It was small enough to be placed on a jewelry box
or some such thing and would make a plain box precious because of its
intricacy.

   She realized Mavis was standing beside her and looked over.

   "They're so beautiful," she said, her voice almost a whisper.  "They
grip my heart," she said.  Without realizing she was saying it she added
"Just like Bobby."

   Mavis arched an eyebrow.  "Not you too."

   Rachel realized what she'd said and blushed.  "Not me too ...  what?"

   "That boy's got three of us wrapped around his finger like a teenaged
girl at her first dance." She didn't realize that her use of the word "us"
made it impossible to tell if she was one of the three she mentioned or
not. Rachel, hearing that, felt comradeship with the older woman.

   She turned to Mavis.  "Yes, me too.  It's terrible!  All I can think
about is what he did for me.  What I wish ..." She stopped.  "He's just a
boy," she said helplessly.

   "I'm not so sure of that," said Mavis, thinking her own thoughts.  "I've
got a feeling he's much more of a man than he looks."

   "Why would you say that?" asked Rachel, curious about anything that
involved Bobby.

   "When he first came here we thought he was simple minded.  We gave him
baths ...  like we do the other children."

   Rachel stared at Mavis.  The idea of Bobby, being bathed ...  his skin
bare and slick with soap ...  Her nipples tightened and tingled.  "You've
seen him ...  naked?" she asked.

   Mavis looked at Rachel's wide eyes and chuckled.  "We all have.  By the
time we figured out he wasn't anywhere near stupid, it had sort of become a
habit, I guess.  I should do something about it.  Something's going to
happen.  I can feel it in my bones.  If it hasn't already," she said,
staring at Bobby.

   "You can't mean that any of these women have ..." Rachel couldn't
finish. Somehow the thought of any woman lying with Bobby made her want to
scream.  Well, any OTHER woman.  "You haven't ...  have you?" she said
automatically.  Then Rachel flushed bright red.  "Oh Mavis, I'm sorry.  I
shouldn't have said that.  I have no business prying into your affairs."

   Mavis turned her shrewd glance on the young teacher.  "No, only three of
them have bathed him.  And I don't think any of them have done anything
completely insane.  That's not to say I haven't thought about it myself. 
He just has this ...  something.  I can't put my finger on it.  I should
put my foot down, but I can't." She turned to her guest.  "And now you're
smitten with him too.  Lands sakes.  I need to get that boy out of here and
into a proper place for a boy his age before something happens for sure."

   Rachel felt panic at the idea of Bobby going away.  "Mavis, I'd just die
if he went away," she said.  Then she promptly slapped her hand over her
mouth, horrified that she'd said it aloud.

   Mavis laughed though.  "Don't feel that way.  I know how you feel.  I
can't believe some of the things I've thought about here lately myself!"

   Rachel felt better, and her jealousy fled as if it had never been.  She
had someone to confide in who understood, at least a little, of what she
was feeling.

   "Do you think we're terrible?" she asked.

   Mavis actually thought about that a little bit before answering. 
"Rachel, I don't rightly know if we're terrible or not, but I do know this.
He's a good boy, and he deserves whatever happiness he can find.  And I
think that goes for the rest of us too.  Life's been pretty hard for the
last few years.  One part of me thinks it's like robbing the cradle.  But
another part of me thinks that's one big baby over there." She grinned to
ease the seriousness of her voice.

   "Well" said Rachel, keeping her face as calm as she could.  "If you ever
need any help at bath time, you let me know."

   Both women burst into gales of laughter, and Bobby looked over at them
from his carving.  Their laughter caused a natural smile on his face and
that just made the women laugh harder.

   Then Meg cornered Rachel and took her off to read to the children who
weren't listening to the radio program.  Mavis walked over to where Bobby
was carving and admired the horse he was working on.  The large, ungainly
chunk of wood he'd started with was becoming a rearing stallion before her
very eyes, as, sliver by sliver, he removed the wood that wasn't part of
the horse.  She remembered the large medallion he had carved for the
cabinet maker.  It was still sitting in her room, where she'd put it for
safe keeping until she could take it back to the man.  She should have
taken it days ago, but somehow kept forgetting.  She liked staring at it
when she was getting ready for bed.  She decided to take it to the cabinet
maker the next day.

   "You're collecting quite a harem young man," she said casually to Bobby.
He looked up and smiled that beautiful loins-wrenching smile.  "You just be
careful," she said.  "You're biting off more than you could ever chew.  If
any of those women fall in love with you it could cause an uproar."

   Bobby was astonished at her words.  He knew that what he was doing with
some of the women was fun - for all of them - but the concept of a woman
falling in love with him, especially older women like that, was like
thinking he could suddenly fly.  He snorted and raised an eyebrow at his
guardian.

   "You laugh now," said Mavis, reaching out to stroke his hair.  "I think
next time you take a bath it had better be me who tends you."

   His smile disarmed her completely.  He looked almost eager and it made
her feel like a school girl who's been asked to a dance for the first time.
She had a fleeting sensation of caution that shot through her.  "Then
again, maybe that's not such a good idea," she said.

   His look of obvious unhappiness made butterflies dance in her stomach
and suddenly she didn't feel nearly so old and wrinkled.

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

   The next day Rachel asked Bobby to walk her home after school.  Her
visit to Milleson House had been an eye opener for her in several ways. 
First she was astounded by the love that the five women poured out onto
their helpless charges.  She had known them all as students, but seeing
them at home made her realize they were children who, though they had no
parents or kin, were loved none the less.  Her own upbringing had been
short of that kind of love, though there was some.  Her amazingly frank
talk with Mavis had somehow set her free to think about things without
feeling like she was perverted, or strange.  And, seeing Bobby carve ... 
seeing him do things that men did for a living ...  made her look at him
more as a man.  Her conscious mind knew he was a boy, but when the radio
had given the war news, and talk had turned to Prudence's husband, away at
war, Donna had offhandedly said "At least we don't have to worry about
Bobby.  He can't talk, so they won't take him and send him off to die." She
had turned to look at the boy, and realized that in a very short time
indeed he would be the same age as men who were fighting for freedom.  He
would be a man.  The thought of him dying pierced her so painfully that
she'd had to sit down for a few minutes.

   That night she thought about how close she had come to death.  She
thought about all those children, in that big house, and how wonderful it
would be if they were all her own.  She dreamed impossible dreams of Bobby
as her husband ...  of Bobby helping her to fill a house like that.

   She didn't actually plan anything.  It was all just cotton in her head.
But at school she asked him to walk her home.  And when they got there she
offered to feed him, little as she had, and poor cook that she was.  She
watched him eat the cold ham she cut for him ...  watched him lick his
fingers and wolf down half a loaf of bread with butter.  She gave him one
of her hoarded apples, and watched as the juice ran down from the corners
of his mouth as he crushed the sweet pulp between his teeth.

   And words began coming out of her mouth, unbidden, horrifying to the
"good girl" in her, but unstoppable.

   "You saved me," she said.

   He waved his hand, as if he had only split some wood for her, and
smiled.

   "You saw me naked."

   The smile disappeared from his face, and he became serious.

   "No man has seen me like that.  Not before that day," she said.  Her
hands gripped her skirt and twisted it, an unconscious nervous outlet.

   "You saw me naked and all you did was hold me, and comfort me," she
said.

   He shrugged.  He didn't know what else to do.

   "I never thanked you," she said.

   Bobby pulled paper from his pocket.  He always carried that now, along
with a stub of pencil.  "Yes you have.  Many times," he wrote.

   "I didn't thank you like I should have," she said.  "You are my hero
Bobby.  And the heros in all the books get the fair maiden's love in
return. They get other things too, Bobby."

   Bobby wrote "Those are just fairy tales."

   "I want you to kiss me Bobby," she said, her face serious.  "Like in the
fairy tales.  I know I'm still ugly, but would you kiss me?  Please?"

   Bobby wrote "Not ugly.  Beautiful." in the corner of the paper.  The
pencil slipped in his greasy fingers, and smudged the paper.

   "Let me wash your hands," she said.  He stood up and she realized he was
taller than she was.  She'd never noticed that before.  She took him to the
sink.  She had the gray rough soap he had always seen before he came to
Milleson House and he reached for it.  But she snatched the soap first.

   "Let me," she said.

   The water was cold, and she got the pot she had put on the stove for
tea, adding some to a small pot and mixing in cold.  Then she washed his
hands, rubbing each finger.

   "Mavis told me they give you baths," she said.

   Bobby's eyes widened.  What came through her voice astounded him.  He
looked at her like an authority figure ...  a teacher ...  someone to
please ...  and who could make life either good or bad for him.  No
authority figure had ever said anything to him in that tone of voice.  He
felt his penis stir at that tone, but couldn't believe she meant what it
sounded like.  He couldn't help but look around the room for a tub.

   She smiled.  "No, I don't have a tub like they do over there.  I have to
take my baths in this pot," she said.  His look of confusion made her
smile.

   "Like this," she said.  Her fingers went to the buttons of her dress and
undid them.  She wore the only brassiere she'd been able to afford.  It was
old now, and thin ...  stretched by the weight of her breasts, but she
didn't care that he saw it.  The look in his eyes as her near-nude body
appeared actually settled her.  He looked at her like a man looks at a
woman.  That just solidified in her mind that he was, in fact, a man.

   She took a rag and dipped it in the water.  Then she rubbed it on the
bar of lye soap and rubbed it up an down one arm, changing to do the other.
Then she rubbed the rag over her chest, above her bra.

   "Like this," she said again.  "Is this how they bathe you?" she asked,
her voice husky now.

   Bobby shook his head.

   "Show me," she said, breathing faster.  "Show me how they bathe you."

   Bobby took the rag from her and dropped it in the sink.  He got the soap
and dipped it in the water and managed to make thin lather on his hands. 
He slid his hands down her arm, one on each side.

   "I washed there already," she said, her eyes staring into his.  Her
hands went to where the bra came together in the front.  There were laces
there and she pulled at a loose end, undoing them.  The bra sagged and
pulled apart.  Breathing faster still she pulled it apart.  Bobby started
to look away and she spoke.

   "No, you've seen me before.  It's all right.  Wash me here," she said,
cupping her breasts.

   She moaned as Bobby's hands cupped her heavy mams and slid around the
sides, and then down, his hands scraping across her nipples.

   "Oh yesss," she hissed, her eyes closing.

   Bobby stopped.  He thought he knew what she wanted now, but still had a
hard time believing it.  He dipped his hands in the water and then rinsed
her breasts, watching as the water dribbled down across her abdomen and
turned her panties dark where they became wet.  Her hands came to his
wrists and he thought it was to stop him, but they pushed his hands back to
her breasts.

   Now he knew for sure.  It was something he'd never have believed, but
her actions made it clear.  He leaned over and sucked at her nipple,
pulling it in, like he had the others.

   "AAAAHHHHHH" she groaned, her hands moving to his head.  She suddenly
pushed him away, her hands going to his shirt buttons, pulling at them,
trying to get them open.  Her eyes were wild and her teeth were bared as in
her frustration she pulled and a button went sailing across the room to
bounce on the floor and hit the wall.

   Now it was Bobby's hands that stopped hers, he kissed her once, quickly
on the lips, and shrugged out of his suspenders, his fingers finishing what
she'd started.  She stood, frozen, watching his skin appear and beginning
to pant.  She stared at the bulge in his drawers when it was uncovered and
held her breath.

   When he pushed his drawers down, and his bouncing penis appeared, her
voice took on a high pitched keening noise as she let that breath out
between tightly closed teeth.  She sounded terrified.

   Bobby took one of her hands, suspended in front of her like some statue,
and brought it to his lips, kissing the back of it, like he had read about
in books.  Her eyes came back up to his and she smiled a tremulous tiny
smile at his offer of chivalry.  That little act penetrated her terrified
brain.  He didn't move ...  didn't attack her ...  didn't threaten her ...
just stood there looking at her with his serious brown eyes.

   "I've never done this," she said, her voice tiny and shrill.  "I don't
know what to do," she whined.

   Bobby had learned a lot in the last few months.  Some of it had been
taught to him, but he was a shrewd judge of character and of people in
general.  He could hear the fear in her voice, and he didn't like that
sound.  He wanted nothing to do with hurting this woman.  He knew she had
been hurt by the last man ...  knew she had not been herself for days
afterward.  When he'd next seen her she seemed her old self, though
horribly bruised.  He knew what that was like - being beaten - and knew
what that did to a person.  Very gently, almost painfully slowly, he pulled
at her, getting her close enough to him that he could hug her.

   Rachel hadn't realized how cold it was in her house until she felt her
breasts touch Bobby's chest.  She hadn't been able to think about much of
anything once she'd felt his hands on her breasts.  She couldn't believe
this was happening to her ...  couldn't believe how she was acting.  But
the dream she was having, while astonishingly frightening, also felt
somehow right and proper in a way she couldn't begin to understand.  And
right now she didn't want to think.  She just wanted to be warm and held in
this man's arms.

   A sob lurched from her lungs, shaking her shoulders, and her arms went
around Bobby like a vice.  She was unbelievably strong in that moment,
crushing her chest and loins to his.  She felt that stiff prong against her
belly, and it cause a heat there that was deep inside her.  All her late
night cottony yearnings rushed into her head and burst into parts of her
body.  Her nipples, despite being against his warm chest spiked painfully,
and she felt a gurgle in her belly as she became wet between her legs with
a rush of fluid.

   "I'm cooold" she murmured into his chest.

   She felt his head turn ...  toward the bed.  Something burst inside her
and she pushed him away.

   "Yes!" she barked.  "The bed!"

   She all but ran the few short steps, pulling him behind her by his hand.
She threw back the covers and then pushed at her panties, ripping them in
her haste to get them off her body.  She fell, tripping and he caught her
by her hips, pushing her toward the bed.  She rolled and with his
assistance, ended up on the bed, scooting to get under the covers.  She
looked up to see him standing beside the bed, staring down at her.  His
penis looked immense to her untrained eyes, like a club.  But she wanted to
be beaten with that particular club.

   "Get in bed with me," she moaned.  "You have to get in bed with me."

   Her invitation galvanized him and he slid in beside her - not on top of
her as she expected - but beside her, moving up against her.  She writhed
against him, trying to get every square inch of her skin to touch his.  His
lips found hers and she thought she'd drown on dry land as his tongue swept
into her mouth and she suddenly couldn't breathe.  Now she wanted to push
him back out, suddenly afraid again ...  afraid of her own reactions to
him.

   But that kiss went on and he didn't force her to do anything.  Her mind
calmed just enough to pull back from panic, and began to recognize other
sensations.  Again she felt his heat, and squirmed at the pleasure of that.
One of his hands was on her back, sliding up and down.  It slid onto her
buttock and she clenched it, shoving her mons toward his, loving the rough
feel of his hand scraping her skin.  Her kiss became demanding and now it
was her tongue that forced its way into his mouth, searching for whatever
it was she needed so desperately.

   Her whole body felt like a balloon, filling with something that was
going to make it burst into a thousand floppy pieces.  Her hand went to his
shaft and she was astounded at the velvety feel over the hardness that she
knew was made to thrust inside her body.

   She hadn't planned anything.  She had wanted something, but she hadn't
known exactly what that was.  Now she wanted this velvety hard thing to go
where she suddenly felt so empty.  She pulled at him, knowing that the man
was supposed to be on top, but not knowing what else to do.

   He rolled on top of her, remembering the feeling of Prudence's flesh,
wrapped tightly around him and knowing that was what this woman wanted too.
He felt the tip of his cock nudge into that unbelievable heat.

   "Slowly" she groaned, ending in an "eeeeee" sound.  Prudence had wanted
him to push hard, and go deep, and that was the only way he knew to do this
thing he'd done only once.  But her cry that held fear in it made him
hesitate and he pushed only a little.  He felt the resistance immediately
and she groaned again, in pain.  He didn't want to hurt her, and pulled
away from her.

   "Nooooo" she cried.  "It's supposed to hurt the first time," she moaned.
"I need you Bobby.  Pleeease."

   This was something he didn't understand.  If it hurt her, why would she
want to do it?  He wanted to be inside her.  That was a feeling he wanted
badly.  But not if she cried out.  She was pulling him toward her again,
pulling him into that heat again.

   "Push" she demanded.

   He pushed and the resistance bent his prick ...  and then vanished as if
it had never been there.  He had increased the weight of his push, and when
her hymen tore he sank into her as deeply as he had with Prudence.

   Her agonized cry of pain made him freeze and her fingers dug into his
sides.  When he tried to pull out of her those fingers gripped his flesh
painfully.

   "Don't move," she groaned.  He felt her sobbing and didn't know what to
do.  He ducked his head and kissed her eyes, and then below them.  Her
cheeks were as far as he could get without going lower and she arched her
neck so her lips came to his.

   Her eyes opened and she saw the concern in his deep brown ones.

   "I want this," she groaned.  "Don't take it out." She kissed him, and
then again, and he felt her hips wiggle under him.  Then her tongue flicked
out and she licked his lips.

   "It's not so bad now," she moaned.  "Just let me get used to it."

   Bobby was beginning to think there was something wrong with her.  She
felt wonderful, wrapped firmly around him down there.  Her heat was just as
hot as Prudence's had been, though she was tighter.  He remembered that
Prudence liked it when he pressed his hair against hers.  He dug in his
toes and rocked forward a little.

   "OHHHHHHH" Rachel groaned.  The pain had been unbelievable as she felt
...  actually felt her flesh tear.  Her first thoughts had been that women
must be insane to want this.  But she DID want this ...  right now ... 
with THIS man.  The pain dulled almost instantly, to a feeling a little
like being bloated from eating too much.  Then he rocked forward, and she
thought the top of her head was going to pop right off..

   "OHHHH YES," she croaked, her voice cracking with emotion.  Her interior
muscles rebelled against the invading monster, squeezing.  But she couldn't
resist, and those muscles relaxed again.  He felt that and rocked forward
again.

   "Ohhhh Mama" moaned Rachel, and this time there was only a trace of pain
in her voice.

   Bobby felt her muscles loosen around him, then they fluttered, like they
couldn't make up their mind whether to grip or loosen.  He heard something
other than pain in her voice and rocked into her again, mashing his hairs
against hers hard.

   He pulled his penis halfway out, and then slid it gently into her.

   "Ohhh I love you," groaned Rachel.  At that moment the pain fled,
overcome by something else.  Her hips began to try to get that movement
inside her again, jerking.  Her hands pushed on his hips.  He backed, just
as she did too, and slid completely out of her.

   "NOOOOOOO" she cried, hunching her hips up at him wildly.  "Put it back
Innnnnnnnn." He raised up and her hand darted between them.  When she
gripped him this time he was wet and sticky.  She nosed the tip back into
her emptiness and let out another long groan as he slid all the way back
in, pressing hard.  She felt something deep inside her that was pushed by
the tip of his hardness.  That hurt, but in a different way that she
instantly loved.

   Slowly, as if blind and feeling their way, they established the age old
rhythm as he began to move in and out of her, pausing every third stroke or
so to push deep and press hard.  Rachel couldn't speak now.  She made
little sounds, mewls of pleasure.  The rational part of her mind whispered
"THIS is why women want to do this." The animal part of her mind just
demanded more.  The full feeling was back, and she felt like her skin would
burst as he sped up.  That place that felt so good when he pressed in was
scraped by his shaft as he moved it, and again she felt like the top of her
head must surely explode as the tension in her built to an unbearable
level.

   Then it did burst.  It burst as he pressed deep and stayed there, the
tip of his prick nudging what she didn't know were her inner lips.  Those
lips kissed the tip of his prick as she saw stars and her world collapsed
on her like an avalanche.  She felt unbearable pleasure in her loins that
streaked outwards to all parts of her body like fireworks.  And through it
all, somehow, she felt, issuing from the tip of that hard thing inside her,
that was nosing into her virgin womb, the rush of his seed as it erupted
and filled her innermost secret place.

   She wasn't sure when she became aware of anything outside her body.  The
first thing she felt was his weight, bearing down on her, and then his
chest moving against hers as he gasped for breath.  Immediately after that
she felt her own breath being dragged into her lungs in cool, clean rushes
that cleared her head.  Next she felt the heat generated by their union as
sweat trickled down her shoulder and into her arm pit.  She wanted to laugh
at all those times she had been disgusted by a runnel of sweat as it
betrayed her sensibilities.  She felt more of it between her breasts and
pushed on him to get air between them.  Her finger went to the little pool
of sweat as they both looked down between her breasts.

   He had stopped filling her somehow, even though his groin was planted
firmly against hers, little trickles of joy still sparking in her as his
hair rubbed against her there.  Then she felt the real emptiness as he
lifted his hips and his softened member pulled free.

   "Ohhhhh" she complained, as she felt that emptiness.  Then he shocked
her by dipping his head and licking at the tiny puddle of sweat between her
breasts.  She gasped, and kept gasping as his lips and tongue tickled their
way up one mound and he suckled the nipple he found there.

   "Ahhhhhhhh" she sighed.  Ecstasy.  This was the definition of ecstasy.
THIS was why women wanted to do this thing.

   He continued to lap and suck at her nipples gently, changing from one to
the other at precisely the right intervals, before his suction caused pain.
As he kissed her shoulders and then her neck she tilted her head, loving
the feel of his lips as they sent tiny thrills through her tired body.

   Tired.

   She was exhausted.  She wanted to sleep for a month.

   The feel of something wet dribbling between her buttocks made her think
of what that was.

   His seed.

   He had flushed her full of his seed.

   She was a woman ...  of childbearing age.  She could be pregnant as she
thought about this feeling.  She examined that possibility with a
remarkably clear inner vision, watching herself thinking about that ... 
watching her hand slid between them to seal off the leak of that precious
fluid.

   She wanted this man's baby.  She wanted ten of this man's babies.  She
wanted to start all over again and do what they had done for a month
straight.  THEN she would think about sleeping.  Her fingers pressed his
seed into her and she hit that special spot that he had made feel so good
...  that spot that had made the horrible pain go away.

   Horrible pain?  Part of her mind knew there had been horrible pain, but
it was a dim and dusty memory now, something like a healed cut that only
felt a twinge now and again, but was almost whole.

   Whole.

   She felt whole.

   She marveled at what she had done, and how completely whole she felt
with all that seed inside her body.

   Bobby got up to his hands and knees, preparing to get off the bed.

   Rachel moaned softly.  It was cold!  How could she be sweating and be
cold at the same time?  It was crazy!  As he stood up she pulled the
blankets over her with her free hand and made a humming noise as the warmth
from his back, that had been infused into the blanket, settled down over
her.  She peeked out from the covers, looking at him.  His penis was soft
and shriveled now, hanging forlornly between his legs, like a dog that has
been scolded.  She wanted to make it long and hard again, as it should be.

   He was bending over the table now, naked, and he was beautiful in her
eyes.  He didn't seem to mind the cold at all.  He handed her a note.

   "I should leave now?" it said.

   "I don't want you to leave," she whined, like a little girl.

   He went back to the table and wrote again.

   "They'll wonder where I am," said the note this time.

   "Will you walk me home tomorrow?" she asked, her voice still young and
petulant.

   He nodded, smiling widely.

   "Then you can go," she said.  She watched him as he dressed, watching
the muscles in his arms and back as he bent and stood.  She wanted him to
come back to bed, to stay in her bed the rest of the day ...  all night. 
She didn't know how often a man could do that, but she wanted it to be many
times per day.

   He kissed her lips before he left, a soft, gentle kiss that made her
itch between her legs.  She wanted to make him kiss her neck and breasts
again, all over her body, but she knew he was right, that he had to go
home.

   She wondered, as the door closed behind him, if she would hate herself
when she fully thought about what had happened.  She was asleep before she
could find out.

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

   Meg sat and fed the baby at supper that night.  She had placed herself
so she could see Bobby without it being obvious.  There was something ...
different ...  about him tonight.  She watched closely to see what he did
at supper, but she saw nothing odd.  He passed bowls, and helped a child if
that child needed help.  He ate his usual prodigious amount of food, and
smiled and chewed.  She was almost frustrated because she KNEW that
something about him was different.  Was he a little straighter?  Were his
shoulders a little more squared?  Did he somehow look more confident?

   His eyes drifted and caught hers.  He smiled.  He needed a haircut.  But
he was so handsome it made her stomach hurt.

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

   Mavis sat at the table, queen of all she surveyed.  She saw Meg watching
Bobby.  Sally was looking at him quite often as well.  She watched Donna
for a while, and didn't notice anything out of the ordinary.  Prudence, for
the last day or two, had been on cloud nine.  She laughed at everything. 
Her play with the children was intense and purposeful, as if she were
trying to squeeze every bit of joy out of life that it was possible to get.
Mavis wondered if her husband had seen the light and written her another
letter, begging her to forgive him and take him back.  She acted like that
...  like she had a good man in her life again.

   She was watching Pru when she saw her make eye contact with Bobby.  He
grinned and she blushed.

   Mavis felt like she was watching one of those radio dramas play out
before her very eyes.  What was she going to do?  She had to do something
...  but what was it going to be?





   CHAPTER NINE

   In school the next day, Meg and Sally stayed to help with the children.
It was fairly clear by now that they weren't really needed, but their
friendship with Rachel was an excuse to do that, and they found they liked
being in an academic setting with the children.

   Meg's confusion about what was different about Bobby was added to when
Rachel started acting odd too.  She seemed completely normal at first, but
when she talked to Bobby she stuttered and couldn't think of the word she
was looking for.  She handed Bobby a book to read and her hands were
shaking.

   "Are you all right?" Meg asked, concern in her voice.

   "What?" asked a distracted Rachel.  "Me?  Yes, of course.  I'm fine."

   "Your hands are trembling," pointed out Meg.

   Rachel stared at her hands as if they actually belonged to someone else.
She blinked, and then looked at Meg.  "Cold.  I'm still chilled from
warming up the room." She moved off to work with a child, but she seemed
distracted all day.  When noon came she seemed to relax, and was her old
self.  She turned to Meg and said "I'm working with Bobby this afternoon."
She was flushed as she said it.

   "Are you sure you're all right?" asked Meg, worried now that Rachel had
something and wasn't paying attention to it.  "Maybe you should have the
doctor look at you.  You look flushed to me."

   "Meg!" said Rachel.  "I'm fine!  Now, get those children home so they
can eat."

   Rachel watched them leave and looked at her hands.  They were still
shaking.  And she knew she looked flushed because she felt flushed.  Bobby
was still reading as she straightened up the room.

   "Are you ready to go?" she asked.

   He looked up and grinned.  He nodded and stood up.  Rachel's knees felt
weak.

   They walked at what seemed like a snail's pace to Rachel, but actually
arrived at her door in ten minutes.  It usually took her fifteen to make
that walk.  She opened the door and let him in, following him.  Then she
closed and bolted the door.  The bolt had magically been there when she'd
returned from being recuperated by Eunice and her other friends.  Bobby was
already fiddling with the stove, blowing on the embers left from her last
stoking of the fire that morning before she left.

   Rachel, after she gave up her virginity at two in the afternoon the day
before, had slept peacefully until two in the morning.  When she woke in
the middle of the night, she was warm and cozy in bed.  She'd had to get up
to use the toilet, and had winced at the ache between her legs.  Her
muscles were sore, like she'd walked too much, or lifted too much.  Except
that these muscles were in places she hadn't even been aware she had
muscles.  Once back in bed she had tried to regain that warm cozy feeling.
She wished that Bobby was there with her.  She'd be warm then.

   She eventually regained that warm feeling, but she wasn't sleepy any
more, and her mind began to reflect on ...  things.  She realized she was
being silly.  She realized she had done something she shouldn't have.  She
realized that her fantasies could never come true.  In the dark of night
she realized a lot of things.  By morning she had left her drunken
hallucinations of happiness with Bobby behind.  She'd felt exhausted, even
though she'd slept for twelve hours.

   She'd had to make herself go to school.

   And, when she got there, and Bobby sauntered in, every trace of her
resolve not to repeat her mistake vanished like dandelion fluff in a
tornado.  As soon as he looked at her she wanted to strip naked and thrust
herself against him.  She was actually glad to see Meg and Sally were going
to stay simply because that meant she wouldn't do something incredibly
stupid in front of the children.

   She couldn't remember a single thing she'd taught in school, she
realized, as she looked at Bobby's buttocks in his too-tight pants.  And
now, here she was, with the man of her dreams, including a few nightmares.
One of those nightmares was of her, waddling down the street in town, her
bulging belly sticking out in front of her, pulling her forward, as the
townspeople pointed and snickered behind the hand in front of each mouth.

   He stood up and turned around.  He smiled at her.

   She realized that her dress was already half unbuttoned, and there was
an unfamiliar slickness between her legs.

   There was no pain this time, other than a faint residual ache in those
newly discovered muscles.  Those muscles rose to the occasion, though, and
that incredible body filling explosion came so quickly that Rachel moaned
that it should be there and fade so quickly.  Her uncomprehending mind saw
something in the distance that rushed toward her as he continued to slide
in and out of her and she sobbed with joy as she realized that it could
happen again so quickly.  Her hips thrust up so violently with her second
orgasm that she lifted Bobby, her back straining to make her buttocks clear
the mattress by two or three inches.

   During her third orgasm, as she felt him tense and freeze, she felt his
prick move and jump inside her and that fabulous heat flooded into her. 
Her sobs were gone now.  Her joy was accepted unconditionally, along with
the seed she knew would make part of her dreams come true.  But now she
laughed, because in her dream she was proud, and strong, her swollen belly
on display for the people she passed as she carried her lover's baby down
the street.

   It occurred to her that, if she could reach a pinnacle more than once in
a short while ...  he might be able to as well.  She didn't let him get up
this time, holding him close, side by side, trading kisses and touches. 
And to her delight her logic was proved as he rolled on top of her again
and took her to the mountain top with him again.

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

   It was bath night.  Mavis sat, mending a shirt, listening to Meg's
description of people who had the bodies of playing cards, and a
bloodthirsty queen who would probably give the children bad dreams.  She
glanced up at Bobby, with his lap full of girls, who might as well have
been sitting on toad stools, for as much attention as they actually paid
him.  Their mouths were open, their eyes staring as Meg fed their
imaginations with images that took all their concentration to deal with.

   Naked children came running into the room, digging silently into the
pile of clean clothes, already listening to Meg's hypnotic voice.  Others
were dragged to the bathroom, dragging their feet, wanting to hear one more
line, to see one more fantastic image before their literary drug was
withdrawn.  Meg seemed not to notice, as if she too was caught up in the
story.

   When the second batch of naked children appeared, Mavis put her sewing
aside and stood up, leaning over backward to ease her back.

   "I filled the tub already for you Meg," said Donna, herding children
toward the pile of clothes.

   "I'm taking care of Bobby tonight," Mavis announced.

   Meg looked up and Mavis would have sworn there was a touch of panic in
her face, or disappointment ...  or something.

   "It doesn't seem fair to put it all on one or two people," she said. 
She didn't even believe her own statement, and knew it sounded flat.

   She had decided to get to the bottom of the "Bobby phenomenon" as she
thought of it.  Every woman who went in there came out looking different,
even though Bobby always looked like ...  Bobby.  She saw Meg and Sally
trade looks, and her determination firmed.

   Yes, she was going to find out what went on in there, and whether she
was going to have to do something radical or not.

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

   Bobby's world had undergone a lot of changes since he had come to
Milleson House.  His wary attitude - his will to survive - had abated to
some degree as survival became much easier.  The attitudes of the people
he'd encountered, primarily the women who were suddenly thrust into his
life, had exposed him to something that no other place he'd ever live had.
He'd been exposed to love, and caring, and unselfishness.  He was keenly
aware of all this, though he knew nothing of the theory that Mr.  Maslow
would put forth, and that he was firmly ensconced on level three of Mr. 
Maslow's pyramid of needs.  He was also keenly aware that he had the
capacity to make the women feel just as wonderful as they made him feel. 
There were things he still didn't understand.  Perhaps those would come in
time.  His grasp of morality was tenuous, at best, though he knew that
stealing was wrong, and killing, though only under certain circumstances.
He was, however, beginning to understand the concept of love.  It was still
a strange thing ...  this love thing ...  but he had received it from a
number of women, and had found inside himself, the ability to return that
love to those women.

   It never occurred to him that in the society in which he lived, a man
was expected to return the love of only one woman.  Had someone sat him
down and told him that, he would have laughed.  Why in the world would
someone want to limit that incredibly wonderful feeling?  He had reflected
on the fact that each of the women he had come to know was different in
some ways, and alike in others.  It seemed logical to him that they would
show their love in ways that were also different, and the same.  He didn't
think it was odd that Meg and Sally loved him with their mouths, while
Prudence and Rachel loved him between their legs.  If he'd been asked, he
would have said that he imagined he'd love all those women in all those
ways sooner or later.

   Now, he was being taken to bathe by Mavis.  He knew she was "in charge"
of his world.  He knew that whatever she said was law.  But he knew she was
a woman also, and that she loved him.  Her status as an authority figure
didn't make him wary, since his teacher was also an authority figure who
had loved him and loved him well.  He knew what all the other women who
loved him had done when they took him to bathe.  It didn't occur to him
that she would do anything different in the bathroom.

   He liked to look at her.  Her body was different than that of the
others, with a little more flesh on it.  Her face was a little more lined.
She stood up a little more slowly than the others, and stretched a little
more often.  But she was soft and warm when she hugged him.  He looked
forward to what he assumed would happen in the bathroom.

   It was for all those reasons that, when he dropped his pants in front of
Mavis Milleson, that he was fully erect, and ready to please, and be
pleased by the woman.

   To give Mavis credit, her intentions were more those of a detective,
trying to gather evidence to support a hypothesis, than those of a woman
trying to get a glimpse of something she knew, on some level, had to exist.


   But knowing something exists, or would exist under certain
circumstances, is different than being confronted with that object.

   Mavis was a strong woman ...  a resolute woman in most situations.  She
cannot be blamed for having been, not so many years earlier, a hot-blooded
woman who desired to fill a whole house with children from her loins.  Her
husband had been a caring man, who made sure that his wife experienced the
same bliss he did as he rode her to earth-shattering orgasms.  She cannot
be blamed for storing memories of those earth-shattering orgasms in a tiny
corner of her mind.  Like a safety deposit box in a bank some distance
away, those memories were not often visited, but were treasured,
none-the-less.  And while Mavis controlled her conscious mind, there was an
unconscious Mavis who knew from the look on Meg's face, that time her dress
was buttoned wrongly, and from the change in Sally's attitude, and from the
bounciness in Prudence's step, that being in that bathroom with Bobby was
something that could make a woman's life better than it had been.

   Mavis had clamped down on her own emotions when her husband had died. 
She had forged on ahead, and done what needed to be done.  She had pushed
her own emotions and passions into a tiny box, like a traveler sits on a
too-full suitcase to get it closed.  She tried to be proud of how she had
survived.  But the unconscious Mavis ...  the passionate Mavis ...  the
hot-blooded Mavis inside her ...  that Mavis was tired of being cramped and
unused and hidden away.

   Had the conscious Mavis known what her unhappy inner self wanted, she
might have been able to beat it back into submission.  But when she saw
that strong, young, virile penis pointing at her like an accusing finger,
the latch on her over-full emotional suitcase stretched to the snapping
point like it was made of cheap plastic.  She wouldn't have been more
surprised if an alligator had stuck its head up out of the tub and said
"Hello, I'm Chuck, your new boarder."

   She was, in fact, speechless.

   Bobby knew that Mavis used the tub on bath nights, after all the others
were done and all the children were in bed.  He'd heard her complain before
that it caused her to go to bed too late sometimes.  In Bobby's simple
world, it seemed that the rational thing to do was for him and Mavis to
bathe at the same time, like he and Meg had done, since they were both in
the bathroom.

   To that end, he began helping Mavis prepare for their bath by helping
her undress.

   Mavis watched as Bobby's nimble fingers made short work of the buttons
of her dress.  Mavis, having had no children, still had youthful breasts.
She thought of them as not too large, and not too small, but a bother,
because they weren't good for anything, particularly with those long
sensitive nipples perched on top of them that kept trying to remind her
that she was a woman and that they needed attention.  As Bobby pushed the
dress off her shoulders and it began to slide down her arms, the conscious
Mavis took a breath to demand to know just what in tarnation Bobby thought
he was doing.  About then Bobby saw a fat, distended nipple and leaned in
to see what it tasted like.

   Mavis' unconscious mind, loose now inside her body, was doing an
inventory of all the unused sexual parts of her body.  It was alerted to
the fact that a nipple was being stimulated and shouted "YES!  IT'S ABOUT
DAMN TIME!" It then hurriedly went about making sure that all the other
unused sexual parts of her were oiled, primed or otherwise ready to
experience the same fabulous stimulation.

   "Bobbeeeeeeee" squealed Mavis.  Her conscious mind got a word in
edgewise.  "What are you doooooooing?"

   Bobby kissed up her chest to her lips and suddenly Mavis couldn't
breathe any more.

   Before she could catch her breath, she was standing naked in the
bathroom with a Bobby who was equally and gloriously naked.  He pulled her
to the tub and, she reacted instinctively by stepping into it.  He joined
her, behind her, and sat down in the warm water, spreading his legs in an
obvious invitation for her to sit between them.  She stood, eyes wide,
ankles and calves warm and stared at what would press against her lower
back if she accepted that invitation.  It looked larger through the clear
water and the slickness between her legs began to run down her inner
thighs. He reached up with one hand to get the soap, and the other to take
her hand and pull.

   "T-t-this is how you take a bath?" she whispered.

   He smiled and nodded, looking at her with eyes she could just drown in
and she felt her knees bend as her unconscious mind told her to sit.

   Then his soapy hands were all over her shoulders and back and sliding
around to cup and massage her breasts and, again, she couldn't breath.  He
pulled her back against his chest as his hands slid over her distended
nipples and dipped down to rub her belly.  She fully expected those
slippery hands to dip lower and, while her conscious mind screamed at her
to stop this immediately, her knees smacked into the sides of the tub loud
enough to make a dull thunking noise.  She registered the pain of her knees
hitting the porcelain-covered metal, and that pain might have supported her
conscious mind, had not his hands come back up to twiddle and play with her
straining nipples again.  She groaned and her hands, which had been
gripping the edge of the tub at the insistence of her conscious mind, which
was telling her to stand up this very minute and get OUT of that tub, fell
away as they betrayed her.  Those hands went to cover his, HELPING him rub
and squeeze her breasts.  To her conscious mind's horror, her hands pushed
his lower until they went where she had earlier thought they were going to
go.

   She leaned hard against him as one of his fingers split her labia and
now no longer soapy, slid across her clit like a knife on a sharpening
stone.  Her buttocks came up off the bottom of the tub as his finger dipped
into her.  As she rose, his finger helped, pulling at her and she squealed
an inarticulate whine of pleasure.

   Her self control ...  that tenuous stretched plastic latch on her
emotional suitcase shattered, and her passionate nature surged out like a
starving wolf that has been caged and sees fresh meat lying on the ground.

   Her body surged, her hands gripping the edges of the tub again and
pulling her up.  But her conscious mind was no longer telling her to do
this.  Her unconscious mind had screamed "SHUT UP!" and she got out of the
tub, pulling Bobby up with her and then down onto the slim pile of padding
that was her crumpled dress.  She landed hard, bruising her buttocks, but
she didn't care as she pulled Bobby down on top of her between her spread
thighs.  He knew what to do, and before she could grasp his manhood he had
it in his fist, poking it where his finger had just been.  Her hands made
claws and she leaned upward, her belly muscles straining so she could reach
his buttocks.

   As she felt the nose of his prick enter her she dug her fingers in and
pulled hard.  Bobby let go and, reacting to her nails in his flesh, slammed
forward, skewering her to her core.

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

   It was fortunate that Donna was still upstairs, putting children to bed.
She was by herself, which meant she had more children to get tucked in than
usual.  That was because the other three women were huddled, not exactly
outside the bathroom door, but not far from it.  Meg and Sally knew, of
course, why each other were there.  They were in a panic as to what Mavis
would find out about what they had done with Bobby.  No one had told them
that Prudence had given Bobby an 'extra' bath, and they didn't know that
she too was concerned about what Mavis was going to find out in that room.
That was why all three of them were there, instead of doing what they
normally would have done.

   It was fortunate that Donna was still upstairs, because Mavis' shriek as
her pussy was filled with hard cock would have caused Donna to break down
the door.  These three, however, heard in that shriek, echoes of their own
shrieks, though, of course, theirs had been silent ones, more or less.  Meg
and Sally stared at each other, their mouths open.  Then, as one, they
turned to Prudence, whose hands were cupping her breasts, her fingers
pinching her nipples through the cloth that covered them.  She jerked her
hands away instantly, and her face flamed red.

   Meg was astounded.

   "You know?" she asked, unbelieving.

   Prudence's suspicions about the others gelled.  She assumed they had
done with Bobby what she had done with Bobby.  And what MAVIS was now doing
with Bobby!

   "I gave him a bath the other day when he got coal dust all over him,"
she said, her voice meek.

   Sally spoke, her voice tight.  "You mean you ..."

   "He showed me how you give him a bath," said Prudence.  "I couldn't help
myself," she whined.

   Sally's world had changed radically when she had experienced new things
with Bobby.  Even though she hadn't been able to repeat the experience,
just the fact that it had happened made her feel like a real woman.  She
wasn't sorry at all that she had done something most people would shun her
for.  Her primary concern was that the only man she'd ever 'known' would be
sent away if anyone besides Meg ever found out about it.  That came out
now.

   "Well, I feel better," she stated flatly.

   "What?" asked Meg and Prudence in concert.

   "I don't think Mavis will be sending Bobby anywhere after this," she
explained.

   Another joyous wail came through the door, along with a slapping sound
that Prudence recognized, and Meg and Sally did not.  That was the sound of
Bobby's abdomen smacking Mavis' abdomen repeatedly.

   "What's THAT?" asked Meg, suddenly looking unsure.

   "That's the sound of a woman who likes it hard and fast," said Prudence.
She covered her mouth with her hand and blushed at her randy statement.

   Meg's eyes got rounder.  "You mean they're ....?"

   Prudence was confused.  "Of course they're ....  Oh my goodness.  You
mean you didn't ...?"

   "Didn't what?" asked Sally, also confused.

   "Didn't you two make love with him?" asked Prudence, her face going
ashen as she thought she might have made a horrible mistake in admitting
what she'd done.

   Meg's mouth dropped open.  "No!  I mean I played with him" she looked
over at Sally "We played with him and he played with us and it was
wonderful ...  but we didn't do THAT!" She turned to Sally "Did you?"

   Now Sally had finally gotten to where everyone else was.  Her reaction
wasn't quite as virginal as Meg's, and her eyes had a far away look in
them. "No, but from the sounds Mavis is making I wish I had."

   Her eyes cleared as she realized what she'd said and she blushed too.

   "Oh my word," said Prudence.

   "What about Donna?" asked Meg suddenly.

   All three women looked at each other.

   "She's never been alone with him," said Prudence.

   "No" said Sally.  "I mean I know that, but what if she comes back down
and hears that?" pointed out Sally.

   Prudence blanched.  "Oh my."

   "Maybe she's done something with him too," said Meg.

   "I don't think Donna's had a chance to do anything," said Prudence.

   "We didn't think you'd done anything," pointed out Sally maddeningly.

   "Well, if she comes down here and hears Mavis ...  and she HASN'T done
anything ...  she'll call for the constable!" said Meg.

   Sally, the calmest of the three at the moment, said "I'll go up and
stall her.  You two see if you can do anything to quiet things down in
there."

   "What, exactly are we supposed to do?" asked Prudence, frowning.

   "I don't know," said Sally.  "Bang on the door or something." She ran
for the stairs, as if she were afraid that Donna might be on her way down
at that very moment.

   The two remaining co-conspirators, who were distinctly uncomfortable
BEING co-conspirators, looked at each other helplessly.

   There was another wail of ecstacy through the door, and more smacking
sounds.

   "You bang on the door," suggested Prudence.

   "I'm not banging on any doors.  I've never done what they're doing in
there!" stated Meg, backing away as she said it.

   Prudence looked haunted for a few seconds, then straightened her
shoulders and turned to face the door.  Unformed thoughts flitted around in
her head as she raised her hand daintily, as if to knock politely to report
for an engagement somewhere.

   Mavis let loose with another wail of unabashed pleasure inside and it
wavered through the door and hit Prudence like a wave of force.  She looked
toward the stairs and felt unaccountably relieved that Sally and Donna
weren't standing there, horrified.

   Then, too rattled to think clearly, she opened the door instead of
knocking on it.

   She blinked as Mavis' was exposed, lying on the floor of the bathroom,
her legs thrown wide, while Bobby repeatedly slammed what Prudence knew was
a fabulously long and hard penis into the woman violently.

   "Stop making so much noise!" ordered Prudence in a loud hissing voice.
"The children will think the house is HAUNTED!" Then she pulled the door
closed firmly and turned around to face an astonished Meg.

   "You ...  you ...  you" stuttered Meg, who had also seen what was going
on inside the room, and whose knees were so weak that she knew she was
going to have to sit down on the floor any second.

   "Oh be quiet," said Prudence, her own knees not all that sturdy at the
moment.  "Go do something that will make some noise." She looked around
and, for lack of any other idea, began moving chairs away from the dining
table.

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

   Mavis was experiencing many of the same feelings that Rachel had felt
that very afternoon.  She had, indeed, liked hard pounding sex in those
short months that she was able to have it, and her husband had been a lusty
lover too.  Truth be told, hard pounding sex was the only kind of
lovemaking that Mavis had any experience with.  It is quite possible that
that was why, when she suspected some kind of hanky panky was going on in
the bathroom, that she did not suspect that full marital sex was taking
place.  It had always been quiet in the bathroom when one of the women was
in there with Bobby, and in Mavis' experience, a woman just wasn't quiet
when she was stuffed full with a hard penis.

   She was also multi-orgasmic, something else she assumed all women were
like.  She was on her third mind-blowing orgasm when the bathroom door
opened and Prudence's pale visage appeared, looking upside down to Mavis,
as she had said what she had said.  The words had registered with Mavis,
along with something in her mind that suggested she should be horribly
embarrassed, but she was at the very breaking point of that third orgasm,
and when the door closed, it was as if she had permission to finish it, so
she did.

   She fell limply back to the floor just in time to feel Bobby tense, and
to hear his soft sigh, as she was suddenly filled with his warm essence.

   As that feeling of hot sperm filled her belly, Mavis' conscious mind
came back, hat in hand, begging to be let back into control.  It was
slightly battered ...  a little disheveled ...  and nowhere near as cocky
as it had been half an hour before.  Mavis, like Rachel, felt whole again.
Her conscious mind began whispering that she knew better, and that she
shouldn't have done this ...  shouldn't have let this happen.  It told her
that this would ruin everything she had built up.  She looked up at Bobby's
face, his eyes tightly closed, a grimace of ecstasy stretching his lips
tight across his teeth as his prick gave a final spurt of lovely hot sperm.
His eyes opened and his head dipped, his big, liquid eyes locking with hers
as his prick gave that final spurt.  He let his head droop to give her a
kiss that, after the violent pounding he had given her, was so tender that
it brought tears to her eyes.

   In that split second, she knew that she had to find a way to prevent
this from ruining everything.  Again, her conscious mind was told to "Be
quiet, and let me think".  Instead of thinking, though, she kissed him
back.

   Of two minds now, Mavis had a silent conversation with herself as they
finally separated.  She groaned as she sat up.  The floor had been hard and
unyielding, and she felt like her bones had been required, as they met
Bobby's ardent thrusts, to take a lot of the force of his magnificent
thrusts.  As he got to his knees, her eyes went to his penis, which now
looked much more like it did when the women led him out of this room.  Her
eyes went to her own sex, which was drooling his spend out onto her dress.

   "You're in a real pickle now," whispered her conscious mind, knowing
what that dress would look like if she put it back on.  Another part of her
mind was replaying what had happened when the door opened ...  what
Prudence had said when she saw ...  what she saw.  That part of her mind
suggested that Prudence's reaction wasn't quite what the conscious part of
her mind would have expected it to be.  She shook her head, unused to
arguing with herself like this.  She wondered fleetingly if she was going
mad.

   Bobby stood and reached down to pull her up.  When she stood she just
came naturally into his arms.  Half her mind said to push him away, and the
other half laughed and suggested that hugging him back was the most
sensible thing to do, considering what had just happened.

   Then there were a few kisses.  Finally she pushed him away.

   "Is this how every bath you've taken has gone?" she asked.

   Bobby smiled, but shook his head.

   "But they went something like this?" she insisted.

   He nodded, still smiling.

   Mavis stood there, naked and wet.  For lack of anything better to do she
got a towel.  Bobby took it away from her and dried her.  Half her mind
told her to make him stop, while the other half loved being pampered.  When
he was done she took the towel and dried him in return.

   She picked up her dress, which was, indeed sodden where she had lain on
it.  Her ears registered scraping sounds outside in the dining room, but
she ignored them.  She couldn't think.  There was something warm running
down her thighs and, without thinking, she wiped at it with her dress,
making it even worse.

   "I don't know what to do," she said to herself.

   As if by magic, the door opened again, only a few inches this time, and
a slim arm appeared holding a fresh dress.  Nothing was said, and the arm
just stayed where it was until Bobby reacted and took it from the hand on
the end of the disembodied arm.  The door was pulled closed quietly.

   Mavis was aware that what had just happened was very important somehow,
but she couldn't think very clearly just yet.  She took the dress when
Bobby handed it to her and mechanically pulled it on.  She suddenly saw her
shoes lying a few feet away, and wondered when in the world they'd come off
her feet, and who had taken them off.  She shook her head again and then
realized that Bobby was standing patiently, still naked.

   "Aren't you going to get dressed?" she asked.

   He shook his head and pointed at the door.

   "Oh yes, they always bring you out naked, don't they?" She shook her
head again.  This was crazy.  She couldn't just walk out the door with him
and act like nothing had happened.

   "On the other hand," said the other half of her mind, "what else are you
going to do?"

   She opened the door and stepped through it.

   Prudence was sitting where Mavis usually sat, and was mending the same
shirt that Mavis had abandoned to take Bobby to the bathroom.  She didn't
look up.  Meg was, mopping the floor where the dining room table had been,
but no longer was, for some reason.  It, along with the chairs, had been
pushed away to clear the floor she was now mopping.

   Meg looked at Mavis, and then Bobby, who was walking behind her.  Her
eyes went to the open door of the bathroom and she dropped the mop to hurry
to the door.  Mavis turned around and watched as Meg scooped up the sodden
dress she had abandoned, and came out with it, pushing it into the basket,
under the children's dirty clothes.  Then she reclaimed her mop and began
mopping the same spot she had been mopping when Mavis and Bobby exited the
bathroom.

   "Get something to wear Bobby," said Prudence, like it was any normal
bath night.  "And then off to bed with you."

   Mavis stared around her as if she were in a foreign place, where nothing
she saw made any sense at all.  Footfalls came from the staircase, and
Sally and Donna came into view.

   "What took you so long?" asked Prudence, looking up from her mending.

   "Oh, June Bug wanted to be told a bedtime story," said Sally, smiling.
"So Donna and I made one up."

   Donna looked confused.  "I still don't understand how you knew she
wanted to be told a story."

   Sally waved a hand.  "I checked on her and she looked unsettled.  I
asked her if a story would help and she nodded, like Bobby.  You know,
she's getting almost good enough at her letters that she'll be writing
notes like Bobby too pretty soon.  Won't that be nice?"

   Mavis realized her mouth was open and closed it.

   Donna looked at Mavis strangely.  "That isn't the same dress you had on
earlier ...  is it?"

   Prudence laughed.  "Mavis found out how exuberant he is about his baths.
She had to change.  Now she knows how Meg felt when she got all wet."

   "Oh," said Donna.  "Well, surely somebody could teach him not to splash
so much."

   Mavis had the urge to blurt out that Donna could give it a try next
time, but she couldn't get it out because Donna went on.

   "And what in the world happened down here?" she asked gesturing at the
furniture and Meg with the mop.

   "The floor under the table hasn't had a good cleaning in a while," said
Meg sensibly.  "I hope the noise didn't disturb the children.  I just had a
hankering to do it once I thought about it."

   Mavis' mind had been going ninety miles an hour as she took in what was
going on.  Prudence, obviously, and Meg, probably, knew exactly what had
happened in the bathroom.  Now that she looked at Meg, she knew it was
Meg's arm that had supplied the new dress.  And the uncharateristic story
telling episode suggested that Sally had kept Donna ...  the only woman in
the house who hadn't yet given Bobby a bath ...  upstairs while Mavis did
what she had always done when she was being loved ...  made noise.  And
these two had made noise to cover her own.

   She looked at Meg, her eyes wide.  "Thank you Meg," she said.  "That was
very thoughtful of you."

   Meg smiled.  "You're welcome.  It was needed." She smiled, a little
nervously.

   Mavis tried to keep the flush she felt building from showing, and turned
to face away from the rest.  "Well, the whole place needs a good cleaning,
but perhaps we could wait on the rest until tomorrow."

   "Yes, it would be much too noisy to do anything more tonight," said
Prudence, her eyes firmly on the shirt.  She giggled.

   "I don't know about you all," said Donna, getting her coat off the hook,
"but I'm going home.  It's been a long, hard day.  I can't wait to get into
bed."

   She looked up, startled as three women started laughing.  Mavis, feeling
something loosen inside her, joined them.  If Donna had been listening
closer she might have detected a note of hysteria in that laughter.

   "What in the world is WRONG with you all?" asked a very puzzled Donna.
"What did I say?"

   Meg waved her hand.  "Nothing.  We're just tired.  You know how you get
giddy sometimes when you get tired?  That's all it is, I'm sure."

   Donna shook her head, unable to help but smile as the women kept
giggling.

   "Let me get my coat and I'll walk with you," said Prudence, wiping her
eyes.  She bustled around and then the two women left, closing the door on
sudden silence.

   Whether it was by unspoken agreement, or just because the women were too
embarrassed to talk about it, nothing more was said that night.  At least
not among the women.  Meg took Bobby upstairs to his room and, when he was
tucked in she stood and looked at him.

   "Where did you learn to do that, young man?" she asked.  Bobby reached
for the paper that was on the table beside his bed, but Meg stopped him. 
"I didn't actually mean to find out," she said, sitting on the edge of the
bed.  "Was it fun?  What you did with Mavis?"

   He nodded energetically and she sighed.  "I've never done that," she
said, as if confiding to a girlfriend.  "I'd be scared."

   Bobby took his arm out from under the blanket and reached to stroke
Meg's cheek.  It was obvious he was saying he'd be gentle with her.  She
giggled.

   "I just bet you WOULD like to teach me how to do that.  You're
horrible."

   Bobby shook his head.

   "No, I know you're not horrible.  But I don't know if I want to give you
another bath or not now," she teased.  "If you did to me what I saw you
doing to Mavis I'd be black and blue for a month."

   Again he stroked her cheek gently.

   "Don't count on it buster," she said sternly.  But she kissed him long
and hard before she left the room.



   CHAPTER TEN

   The next day was Saturday, one of the two days Donna and Prudence were
off.  In theory Sally and Meg had two days off during the week, but in
reality they took time off only if they had something else to do.  Most
weeks they worked the same seven days as Mavis did.  Families didn't take
days off.  That was the way they looked at it.

   Mavis got up early, as usual.  Saturdays were like any other day to her.
She expected her hips to ache, like they usually did, but she felt fine. 
In fact, as she thought about it, she felt wonderful.  The memory of what
had happened in the bathroom rushed back upon her and she felt heat in her
chest.  She'd forgotten how good that could feel.  As she dressed she
wondered how anyone could forget that feeling.

   Meg was at the stove, and already had bacon frying.

   "Morning," she said.  "Sleep good?"

   It was an innocent greeting ...  one they had shared hundreds of times.
Mavis was suddenly suspicious there was a deeper meaning to the question
though.

   "Fine.  Just fine," she said in her usual semi-gruff voice.

   "That's good," said Meg, who appeared to be thinking of something else.
It was obvious that the only added meaning to her greeting had been added
by Mavis herself, and she felt bad about that.

   "Actually, I slept like a log," she said.  "I haven't slept that good in
twenty years." There.  She had called attention to it herself.  Now if Meg
had anything to say she could just say it.

   Meg's greeting had been automatic and unthinking.  She had been thinking
about the few seconds she had seen Bobby, hunched over Mavis, his hips
driving forward hard enough to shake Mavis' whole body.  Mavis' arms had
been spread wide, lying limply on the floor, her legs also spread wide, but
up, pointing at the corners of the ceiling.  Her body had jiggled as Bobby
pounded into her.  Mavis' veiled reference to that broke through her
concentration and she looked at Mavis, actually seeing her for the first
time that morning.  She looked remarkably fresh ...  almost younger
somehow.

   Meg didn't actually want to talk about it.  If things just went on the
way they were she'd be happy enough.  Talking about it would lead to
decisions, and she was afraid about those decisions.

   "What do you want me to say?" she asked.

   Mavis didn't want to talk about it either, to be truthful.  She had NOT
meant for any of that to happen.  The fact that it had still puzzled her.
If she'd been born and raised in Louisiana she'd have believed someone had
used Voodoo, or a magic potion on her or something.  And Meg, young though
she was, was a good woman, and a good friend.  Something else she didn't
want was for this to tear them all apart.

   "I don't know, Meg.  I don't understand any of this," she finally said.
"That wasn't me in there last night."

   "Well pardon me," said Meg, looking straight at her.  "It sure looked
like it was you."

   "You saw?" something shriveled up inside of Mavis and she felt shame.

   "Only a little," said Meg.  She wanted to say "I never saw anything like
that before!", but instead she said "It was ...  interesting." She turned
back to the bacon.

   Well, that wasn't exactly an indictment, thought Mavis.  "What I meant
was that I didn't mean for that to happen.  I don't even understand HOW it
happened."

   Meg sighed.  "I know.  It was the same with me.  One minute I was just
washing him, and the next thing I knew my dress was on the floor." She
darted a look at Mavis to see what her reaction was to that.  Mavis was
staring, but she didn't look angry.

   Mavis had to admire the woman for being so forthright in a tense
situation.  Rather than go any deeper she tried to re-enforce the bond
between them.

   "Well thank you again for getting me a dress.  I'd have looked like a
drowned rat wearing the old one out."

   "What are you going to do?" asked Meg, more interested in the bacon than
any bacon deserved.

   Mavis didn't want to think about that either.

   "I don't know." She sat at the table, suddenly tired.  "I just don't
know."

   Meg turned full on to her boss.  "Please don't make him leave Mavis.  I
promise I'll never touch him again, but please don't make him leave." There
were tears in her eyes.

   Mavis realized the depth of feeling Meg had for the boy.  Then she
thought briefly about the depth of feeling SHE had for the boy.  Then she
thought about the fact that, after what he'd done to her ...  with her ...
last night, it was simply ludicrous to think of him as a boy.

   "I wasn't thinking about you," she said.  "I was thinking about me.  If
last night was anything to gauge by, if I let him stay around here there
will be pregnant women to deal with."

   Meg's eyes got big.  "But Sally and I haven't done THAT with him.  We
only touch him ...  and he touches us, of course, but that's all.  Only
Prudence let him ..." She trailed off as she realized she had spilled every
bean she had in her bucket.

   Mavis was shocked.  She had just assumed that all the women had done the
same thing she had done.  She didn't know if having the facts changed
anything or not.  She remembered quite clearly when her own husband had
taken her WAY past the line she'd set for them when they were courting. 
Then she concentrated on what Bobby had done with her.  She couldn't think
of a single thing he'd done that she hadn't asked him to do, or helped him
do.  Well, there was the fact that he'd undressed her.  And, of course
there was that first feel of his mouth on her.  That had been a surprise.
But then all he'd done was wash her.  It had been Mavis Milleson who had
pulled him out of the tub, and onto the floor, and between her legs.  All
he had done was give her what she so desperately needed.

   Mavis looked up at Meg, who was still standing and staring at her.  Her
carefully tended bacon was smoking now, and would be burning within a
minute.

   "Tend your bacon, dear.  I don't think I could live without him now
either."

   The two of them managed to keep all the rest of the talk about normal
things during breakfast.  Sally was on pins and needles during breakfast,
and kept darting glances at Meg and Mavis.  As usual, though, she didn't
say much.

   After breakfast Mavis got the carvings and took them to the cabinet
maker.  He turned them over and over in his hands, peering closely at the
one Bobby had done, and then at the other one.

   "You saw him do this?" he asked.

   Mavis nodded.  "Took him several hours.  I know the lines aren't
perfectly straight, but it's nice, isn't it?"

   The man looked up.  "I had to work for ten years as an apprentice before
I could do work this good.  Does he go to that school?"

   Mavis nodded.

   "He's free in the afternoons, isn't he?"

   When Mavis nodded again he went on.  "I can teach him.  Don't need to be
able to talk to learn, right?  And I'll pay him too.  If he does work like
this he could make ten, twelve dollars a week."

   Mavis' jaw dropped.  "That much for just half a day?" she gasped.

   The man nodded.  "They's people what have money Mrs.  Milleson, and they
want good work.  And when they get it they'll part with some of that money.
I'm backed up on good carving work.  I could keep that boy busy for a year
if I had him full time."

   Mavis took another bag of wood chunks home with her, thinking about the
fact that, in the catalog, a lawnmower cost twenty dollars these days.  And
that was for one with a grass catcher that attached behind the reel!

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

   Quite often Prudence came to the house on both weekend days.  With her
husband gone, she had little else to do.  Donna spent her days off rattling
around on the farm, doing who knew what.

   So it wasn't odd for Prudence to show up after breakfast that day, and
to pitch in.  Saturdays were lazy days and the children weren't required to
get dressed until lunch if they didn't feel like it.

   She sashayed into the room, swinging her hips.  Meg and Sally were
sitting in the parlor, with some of the children who were listening to a
morning radio program.  The other children were scattered in the kitchen or
dining room, playing with each other.

   "Where's Mavis?" she asked.

   "Gone to the cabinet maker's with Bobby's carving," said Meg, still
thinking about her conversation with Mavis that morning.  She hadn't talked
to Sally about it.  Things were still up in the air.

   "Oh," said Prudence.  "How about Bobby?"

   "He's carving at the kitchen table.  Why?" asked Sally.

   "I need his help over at my house.  I'm moving furniture around," said
Prudence with a completely straight face.

   "Oh," said Sally.  "Well go ask him.  I'm sure he'll do it."

   Both Meg and Sally were engrossed in the radio program when Prudence and
Bobby put on their coats and left.  They were perfectly capable of hearing
a problem with one of the children, and a wrong sound would break right
through their concentration, but the normal sounds of two people leaving
the house didn't register a bit.

   Neither did Mavis' return.

   "I'm back" said Mavis, setting down the heavy bag of wood chunks.  "And
I have good news.  Where's Bobby?"

   Meg waved a hand toward the kitchen and, as soon as her coat was off,
Mavis went in.  She found his carving table, the tools lying on it, and
examined the horse.  The upper part was done and now the horse looked like
it was leaping up out of the wood.  It was exquisite.  But she couldn't
find Bobby anywhere.  She went back to the parlor.

   "Meg, I can't find Bobby.  Where did you say he was?"

   Meg looked up and blinked.  "Oh, I'm sorry.  Pru came over and needed
him to help her move some furniture."

   Mavis put her hands on her hips.  "And you believed that?" she demanded.

   Meg frowned.  "Of course.  Why wouldn't I?"

   Mavis frowned back.  "You've been to her house.  She has a bed that will
only fit into the bedroom one way.  She has a settee and chair that are
both so light that one of the children could move them.  Just what
furniture do you think she needs help with?"

   Mavis' tone of voice made Meg felt guilty for some reason.  "I don't
know.  She just said she needed help.  Why are you yelling at ME?"

   "Because," Mavis said patiently, "the only furniture he's helping her
move is her bed."

   "But I thought you said it would only fit in the bedroom one way," said
Meg, confused.

   "Up and down," said Mavis, clenching her teeth.

   "Oh," said Meg, frowning.  Her eyes went wide.  "OH!" she yipped.  "But
that's not FAIR!  It's MY turn!" she said.  Then she clapped her hand over
her mouth and closed her eyes.

   "Oh, we're taking turns now, are we?" asked Mavis sweetly.

   "It's not what you think," said Meg.  "It just seems like it would only
be fair to take turns."

   "In that case it's probably MY turn," said Sally, who both women had
forgotten all about.  "I've only had one turn and since then you two AND
Pru have ...  well ...  had a turn."

   "This is insane," said Mavis, sitting down.  "We're talking about the
boy like we own him or something.  And to make it worse we shouldn't even
be doing anything with him in the first place."

   "Are we hussies?" asked Sally meekly.

   "No" said Meg resolutely.

   "Yes" said Mavis.  "Of the worst kind."

   "But I love him Mavis," whined Meg.  "How can it be bad if I love him so
much."

   "You have lust for him Meg," said Mavis calmly.  "That's all it is. 
Your biological clock is ticking and your body wants to have babies, and
that makes you lustful."

   "Is that what happened to you last night?" asked Meg, sticking her chin
out.

   "Probably," said Mavis, even though she knew she was at the upper edge
of her child bearing years.

   "He makes me feel all warm and mushy inside," said Sally, staring off
into space.

   "So, if you don't love him" said Meg, "then you wouldn't miss him if you
sent him somewhere else, right?"

   "I probably should send him away," said Mavis.

   Meg stood up.  "You send him away and I'm going WITH HIM!" she shouted.

   "DON'T SEND HIM AWAY" cried Sally.

   "You should know better too Sally Winston!" yelled Mavis.  "You're even
older than Meg!"

   "Well, I'm not as old as YOU, and all I do is TOUCH him a little.  YOU
probably MADE A BABY WITH HIM!" yelled Sally.

   "WHAT ARE WE FIGHTING ABOUT?" screamed Meg, her face red.

   There was a moment of silence and Mavis grunted.  "We're fighting about
a man." She sat back down.  "Look at us ...  fighting about a man like
school girls."

   "Can't we just share?" asked Sally.  "I wouldn't mind sharing."

   Mavis looked at her like she was crazy.  "Women don't share men, Sally.
It just isn't done."

   "Well why not?" asked Sally.  "He's the first man to notice me, or be
nice to me, or make me feel good.  I'll probably never get married.  I'm
not pretty like you and Meg.  Why can't I have a baby of my own?"

   Mavis leaned back in her chair.  "When did we start talking about having
babies?  When did you decided you wanted to be a mother?"

   Sally looked confused.  "I don't know.  I never thought about it until I
realized he might be making babies in other women.  All I know is that he
makes me feel special, and I want to make him feel special too.  And if I
have to share him ...  then fine.  At least I'll have a man in my life part
of the time."

   Meg sat up straight.  "She's got a point Mavis.  Think about it. 
Bobby's an orphan.  He can't get married until he's seventeen.  But when he
DOES turn seventeen, don't you think some woman is going to snap him up? 
Can't we just let things go on as they have until then?"

   Mavis shook her head.  "He's mute, Meg.  No woman is going to want to
marry him."

   Meg stuck out her chin again.  "Well I would."

   "Me too!" chimed in Sally.

   Mavis' mouth opened and closed several times.  She thought about what it
would be like having Bobby around as a husband, instead of as one of her
charges.  That wouldn't be a bad thing in any sense of the word.

   "Well I'll be damned," she said.

   "Mavis!" chided Sally.

   "You'd do it too, wouldn't you?" said Meg.  "Admit it ...  you'd marry
him too!"

   Mavis shook her head.  "I guess I would at that," she said.  "Listen to
me!  An old woman like me, saying she'd marry a boy like that.  I must be
crazy."

   "Did you feel like an old woman last night?" asked Meg slyly.  "Or this
morning either?"

   Mavis didn't answer.  She threw up her hands.  Then she laughed.  "I
almost forgot the news I have." She laughed again.  "And that news is that
Bobby will actually be able to support a wife!"

   She told Meg and Sally about the cabinet maker's offer of employment.

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

   Social relationships have always been a murky subject.  Society sets up
various rules of behavior, some unwritten, and some codified by laws and
statutes.  Then the members of that social group play the game of seeing
how many of those rules, statutes and laws they can stretch, bend, or even
ignore.  There are various reasons people do this, and discussing that that
would take up too much room in an already long story.  Just think of it
like when you're at a stop light at two in the morning, and there's no
traffic in sight.  You ask yourself why in the world you should obey that
light.  It's there to regulate traffic, but you're the only traffic around,
so you feel justified in ignoring it.  You look around, and weigh the risks
of violating the rule.  Then you make a decision on what to do.  For a
whole lot of reasons you may decide to blow the light, and feel completely
justified in doing so.

   With the unwritten social relationships the rules aren't as clear to
begin with, and the urge to break them is even stronger when personal
gratification is involved.  As far as they were concerned, none of these
women had prospects for satisfying their natural urges ...  other than with
Bobby.  All had had a taste of what he could provide them.  In some part of
their minds, they looked around, weighed the risks of violating the rules
about something that could be called "monogamy", but wasn't quite that, and
of engaging in a sexual relationship with an almost-man, and out of wedlock
to boot.

   The pull to keep tasting that glorious pleasure with a man they loved
caused them to ignore the rules and do something they would never have done
in other circumstances.

   They huddled, making decisions about how things would be arranged so
that each of the women got a chance to be alone with Bobby.  Prudence would
have to just live with what they decided, since she had pulled a fast one
and spirited him off.  There was no doubt in any of their minds that the
only furniture Bobby was, in fact, currently moving, was Prudence's bed. 
They didn't know what they'd do about Donna, and decided to cross that
bridge if and when they ever came to it.

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

   About the time that Prudence was being discussed in the Milleson House,
the subject of discussion was having her sixth orgasm of the day.  Bobby
had fucked her almost senseless, and had, indeed, given the bed springs a
good workout.  He had spurted in her twice already, and was about to unload
again.  Good food, and exercise had built his stamina up.  The attention
paid to him by all those women had built up his libido.  He was highly
successful in the role he was currently playing, and Mr.  Maslow would have
discussed putting him firmly on level four of his pyramid.  At least
insofar as he rated in the little community that was Milleson House.

   When they got to her little house and Prudence got him naked, he
experimented with her.  He remembered seeing Sally's almost hairless pussy,
with her pouting pussy lips that had looked so tasty looking.  Two of the
women apparently liked his taste, and he was curious to find out if he'd
like a woman's taste.  So, when Prudence had lain back in her bed, with her
legs spread, urging him to hurry, he had crawled on the bed at her feet and
kissed his way up her legs.  She had giggled at first, then told him he was
tickling her.  When he got to her thighs, her comments went something like
this:

   "Oooo Bobby that tickles."

   "Bobby!"

   "What are you doing Bobby?"

   "BOBBY!"

   "BOBBY YOU CAN'T DO THAT!"

   "BOBBEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE"

   After that she had mostly gurgled, instead of talking, because Bobby had
found out that he liked the taste of "woman" just fine.  And having his
lips and tongue right there, sliding all over her sex, it was no time at
all before he found the little nubbin that made her writhe and scream like
she was going crazy, except he could tell that it was good-crazy, and not
bad-crazy.  He paid particular attention to that little bump from then on,
and she had two of her four orgasms before she ever got his prick in her.
He noticed, after the first one, that the little bud was extra sensitive,
and that if he used the flat of his tongue on it while she caught her
breath, her fingers were soft in his hair.  Then, as her fingers got more
demanding, he went back to suckling and rode her to another jerking,
babbling response.

   He also experimented with her in other ways.  When he got his prick in
her, he tried sliding in and out of her the way that Mavis liked it ... 
hard and fast.  But Prudence made him slow down, saying he was being too
rough.  He found out that she liked it like Rachel liked it, slow and deep,
and while he was deep she liked him to move his hips around.  He was a
smart boy, and realized that when he did that, that little lump of flesh
that had driven her so crazy when he sucked it would be flattened and
rubbed.  Knowing that led him to experiment with the best possible way to
flatten and rub it with the base of his cock.

   That resulted in two more orgasms for Pru, and one for him.

   They lay there for a while as Prudence talked about her childhood, and
about meeting the man she thought would make her happy, and how he had
betrayed her.  Bobby listened, and bestowed little kisses on her chin, and
neck, and chest as she talked.  Then she had to get up to use the bathroom.
She was proud of her body, and wasn't embarrassed to display it to Bobby,
who watched her hips rise and fall as she walked away from him, and the
bounce of her breasts as she walked back toward him.  She was delighted to
find him hard again when she got back in bed.

   Prudence, being loved like she had never been loved by her cheating
husband, told Bobby about her desire to have children and informed him that
what they were doing made babies.  Bobby had never quite connected those
particular dots before, and the realization that he might be making a baby
resulted in his second orgasm.  His seed flushing into Pru's womb got her
off again.

   There had been some more cuddling, but then Pru decided that she'd kept
him longer than she should have, and that the others would be suspicious.
So she got him out of bed and decided to clean him up before he got
dressed.

   That resulted in another erection and Pru couldn't resist him when he
pushed her back to the bed and covered her body with his one more time. 
This time he fucked her hard, but not fast, and she responded to that
combination quite well.  She squealed her way through her sixth cum and,
thinking of babies, Bobby drove deep one last time and fountained into her
already sperm-packed womb.

   He left her lying there, spread eagled and limp.  He dragged a blanket
over her nude body and kissed her on the forehead.  She had fallen asleep
while he dressed.

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

   When Bobby got back home, everything looked the same.  The women were
performing various tasks, and the children were engaged in various forms of
play or relaxation.  But the mood in the house was different.  He could
almost smell that difference.

   Mavis smiled at him and asked him if he'd done his chores for the day.
He set about getting them done.  Then he went to Mavis and pantomimed that
he was going to take a nap.  His life at Milleson House had made him
healthy, but he had worked hard to make Prudence squeal, and three orgasms
in the space of a couple of hours took its toll on him.

   Mavis watched him trudge toward the stairs.

   "She's a greedy little thing," she said, under her breath.

   Mavis, Meg and Sally had decided that the days at Milleson House should
go on as they always had.  The routine was set, and the welfare of the
children was more important than satisfying their lust.  But nights were
something else again.  What did it matter if Bobby slept in his own bed, or
one of theirs?  And, that solved the problem of Donna finding out what was
going on.  Since Prudence was off on Saturdays, Bobby could just continue
to visit her at her house.  She lived on the outskirts of town, and it was
unlikely that anyone would notice him going there.  Even if they did,
they'd just assume he was carrying some message from Mavis or whatever.

   The only other problem was that Mavis knew quite well that she was a
noisy lover, and that, in the still of night, her moans, cries and shrieks
of pleasure might carry upstairs.  She didn't know what she was going to do
about that, but was firm in her resolve to control that problem.

   All three of the women were sure that, knowing they would have an outlet
for their passions, they could now just let Bobby take his own bath.

   It wasn't a bad plan, as far as having been made by women who had let
their emotions control their thinking.  They only made a few mistakes,
which they cannot really be blamed for.

   The first was that they didn't sit Bobby down and explain things to him.
While they might have been able to ignore certain moral rules, none of them
could quite bring themselves to sit and calmly discuss with Bobby that he
was now their private gigolo.  That he was a willing partner suggested that
he would adapt to the new plan.

   The second problem was Rachel, about whom they did not know.  Rachel, as
it turned out, was a very fertile woman.  She too had let her emotions rule
her behavior, and the point at which she decided to bestow her virginity
upon her shining knight may have been advanced by the fact that she was
ovulating at that time of the month.  Her hormone levels helped her make
her decision.  Her exuberance in rewarding the man who saved her life,
resulted in her womb being awash with his sperm, and the two eggs her body
had produced as a result of the stress of the attack on her found that
sperm perfectly acceptable.  Rachel was going to bear Bobby's twins, and
that fact was going to become obvious in about three or four months ... 
painfully obvious in five or six.

   The third problem was Donna.  It was actually problem number three that
reared its head first.  But before you learn the details of that, you must
be provided with a few more details.  They will help illuminate what later
happened with Donna.

   Meg and Sally had offered Mavis the first night with Bobby.  She chose
wait until Monday night, and truth be told, she waited a whole two nights
because she wanted to anticipate it.  She also spent odd moments making
preparations for her tryst.  She hadn't told Bobby about the cabinet
maker's offer.  She wanted to do that as a reward for what she knew he was
going to reward her with, later in bed.

   When Monday night came she was almost beside herself, waiting for Donna
and Prudence to leave.  Prudence had not been told what was going on
either. Mavis had decided that Prudence should be punished for being
greedy. Then, when the two women went home for the night, the children had
to be put to bed.  She decided to let Meg and Sally do that.  When June Bug
and Emily both took one of Bobby's hands, so that he could put them to bed,
she gritted her teeth and simply said "Bobby, when you're done with them
I'd like to talk to you." She felt a blush creeping up her chest.  "In my
room, please."

   Mavis went to her room and then couldn't decide whether to undress and
put on her nightgown, which she didn't plan on sleeping in this night, or
to just wait.  She fiddled with the thing she had made out of strips of
cloth from the bundle of clothing that was used as spare fabric to make
things with, or use in repairs.  She tried it out for possibly the fifth
time and felt silly.  She hoped it would work.

   Then she felt, more than heard, her door open, and he was there.

   She self consciously hid the thing in her hands behind her back by
putting both hands there.  As a result her breasts thrust out at Bobby. 
She could already feel her nipples tightening and extending.  Even though
she was much better prepared for this event than she had been the first
time, she felt her resolve to keep control slipping.

   "Bobby," she started, somewhat breathlessly.  She spoke to him as a man,
and not the boy she was charged with housing.  "Sometimes it gets lonely in
here at night.  I was wondering if maybe you'd sleep here tonight ... 
instead of your own bed."

   Bobby felt his prick thicken immediately.  He liked making love with
Mavis.  He liked making love with all of them.  Each was slightly
different, in her own way, but all were easy to please and it was so much
fun pleasing them.  She sounded nervous, and the way she had phrased her
invitation made it clear that she felt like there was the possibility that
he'd reject her.  That would be unthinkable.  He smiled and nodded.

   There was a moment of awkwardness while they both just stood, waiting
for the other to do something.  Bobby, used to responding to instructions,
generally waited to do anything until he knew what was expected.  Here,
though, he felt a little more secure.  He stepped forward and reached his
fingers to the buttons of her dress.  He didn't need to look at them to
undo them.  Instead he looked into her eyes.  They seemed wet, like she was
getting ready to cry and she bounced on the balls of her feet, her hands
still behind her back.  When he was able to push the sides of the dress
apart and bare her breasts, he let his fingertips drift across them with a
feather light touch, ending up under them and lifting them a little.  Mavis
closed her eyes tightly.  Her breathing was ragged.  She jerked as his
fingers left her breasts and went to the bun she usually wore her hair in.
He pulled the pins, picking at the hair until it fell to her shoulders.

   She kept her eyes closed, savoring each new feeling as his fingers
brushed the dress off her shoulders.  She had to let go of what was in her
hands to get it off, but then clasped it tightly again.  She was glad she'd
made it.  She knew she would need it.  She felt her panties being dragged
down and felt his breath on her hairs.  She couldn't suppress a sound that
forced its way through her throat as he kissed her abdomen.  Then she felt
his lips drift upwards, and her nipples grew almost painful as his mouth
got closer and closer to them.

   Her groan, as he sucked the first one in, filled the room.

   "Get ...  undressed now ...  Bobby," she panted.  "I need ...  to be ...
in bed."

   As soon as his lips left her she turned and leapt for the bed, which
she'd turned down already.  She wiggled into the middle of it, on her back,
her legs already spread.  She'd had enough foreplay and she wanted him in
her.  The thing she'd made was in her left hand.  She still felt silly
about that, and she shoved that hand under her pillow.  Then she turned her
head to watch, as his beautiful strong young body was exposed.

   "Oh please" she moaned, seeing his stiff member, ready to fill her.  "Oh
please, oh please, oh please" she begged.  She wasn't begging him, exactly,
she was begging that this happen before she had a stroke or something.  Her
body was taut as a fiddle string, her hips rising to meet him and he wasn't
even there yet.

   Bobby knew what that pleading meant, though.  He wasted no time once he
was naked and went to the bed, climbing straight on top of her.  Holding
himself up he let the tip of his prick descend until it bumped her hair. 
She was moving so much it would be impossible to find the spot.  Both her
hands were up by her head, one under the pillow, the other gripping the
pillow, so he held himself up with one arm and fisted his cock with the
other hand.  Watching for the right moment, he let his hips drop and, at
the instant he felt heat kiss the tip of his penis, he let go and lunged
forward.

   Mavis felt the shock of her emptiness being so suddenly filled that it
was like magic.  He went deep and his skin slapped hers.  The orgasm she'd
been so close to, just from the anticipation, flared brightly as her whole
body seemed to vibrate.  She snatched her left hand out from under the
pillow and stuffed the inch-and-a-half thick woven rope of cloth she'd
braided between her teeth, biting down hard as her shriek of completion
burst out of her lungs.

   It came out as a muffled "EEEEE" sort of sound, high pitched, with a
little "Mfph" sort of sound thrown in several times as she fought to keep
her mouth closed on her gag.

   Bobby, able to recognize by now a woman in the throes of ecstasy,
grinned and pushed harder, wiggling his hips back and forth.  As soon as
that long drawn out "EEEEEE" softened, he began pounding Mavis like he knew
she liked to be pounded.

   He was rewarded with three more "EEEEEE"s before he shot her full of his
spunk.

   Mavis woke up twice that night, her gag still clutched convulsively in
her left hand.  She woke him both times, pulling him between her welcoming
legs.  By morning her gag was wet with her saliva.

   It wasn't until then that she remembered to tell him that he had a job.



   CHAPTER ELEVEN

   The four colluding women had planned for Bobby to have Tuesdays and
Thursdays off, to give him a chance to rest, since each of them was quite
sure he'd get little sleep on the nights he was with them.  Of course they
didn't know about Rachel, and what she did with him on the afternoons she
kept him after school.

   The depth of her passion for Bobby had frightened Rachel a little.  When
she was under him she felt helpless, but safe at the same time.  He was her
Hero, and he'd let nothing happen to her.  But being helpless was also a
little scary for an independent woman.  To prove to herself that she was
still in control of her destiny, she decided that twice a week ... 
Tuesdays and Thursdays, oddly enough ...  should be enough for any woman.

   It's quite likely, according to some doctors, that as a result of
keeping five women full of his teenaged spend, Bobby's sperm count was a
little low for maximum fertility.  Perhaps that's why nobody else got
pregnant until April.  Of course it's also possible that their planning was
responsible for that too.  While Rachel didn't think about her ovaries, all
the others did.

   But we're getting ahead of the story.  You still need more information.

   Wednesday night now belonged to Sally.  She got that first Wednesday by
simple virtue of complaining that it was her turn.  While she deferred to
Mavis, she wanted a chance to explore this new thing in the comfort of her
bedroom, and she wanted to be next.  Wednesday night, when they were
putting the children to bed, Sally sidled up to Bobby and whispered in his
ear.

   "When you're ready for bed, come to my room." She blushed at, what to
her, was her brazen invitation.  What followed could safely be called ...
tumultuous.

   She was horrified at herself for waiting for him stark naked.

   She was amazed that both her mouth and her pussy were soaking wet.

   She had no idea what she was going to say to Bobby when he showed up.

   She didn't need to say anything.  Bobby had been hoping to be with Sally
again.  He couldn't get those fat, juicy pussy lips out of his mind. 
Prudence had tasted wonderful.  He was sure Sally would too.  When he got
to the room he simply started undressing, looking at her naked body as she
stood beside the bed.  Like Mavis, she looked nervous.  And, like he did
with Mavis, he held her and kissed her before they got into the bed.  Like
Mavis, she wanted to be in bed with him, lying down comfortably.  Once
there, her hand found his hardness as she kissed him again, squirming at
the warm pleasure of his skin against hers.  She had been too nervous to
properly appreciate the feel of his skin before, in the bathroom.

   This was MUCH nicer.

   She felt his fingers sliding down her side, to her hip, and then between
her legs.  No man had ever touched her there.  She held her breath,
pressing her lips against his with a hunger that astonished her.  When his
finger split her pussy lips and probed to find the little bump he knew
would be there somewhere, she groaned, her breath gushing into his mouth.

   Bobby pushed himself up, rolling Sally to her back.  She had a sudden
attack of panic.  He wasn't going to ....  No, she wasn't ready for that!

   "Bobby" she panted.  "You can't." She pushed at him.  "I'm a virgin
Bobby."

   Bobby didn't know that word, or what it meant.  What he was thinking
about was those full lips that he wanted to kiss and taste.  She was upset
about something.  That he could hear in her voice, but surely she wouldn't
mind if he licked her down there.  Prudence had loved it.  And she had told
him he couldn't do that too.  He paused, looking into Sally's eyes calmly
...  more calmly than he felt inside.  He kissed her chin, and then her
chest between her flat breasts, and then he teased her nipples with his
tongue until they stuck out enough to suck into his mouth.  When he did
that he could actually feel them get larger in his mouth.  Sally moaned and
squirmed under him.  She had stopped saying he couldn't do what he wanted
to do.

   He kissed her abdomen, not knowing that the nervous receptors between
her skin and her ovaries were hypersensitive.  He didn't know what an
erogenous zone was, and neither did Sally, really.  Her stomach sucked in
at the shock of the tingles.  You could have poured water into that concave
area and it wouldn't have gone anywhere.

   Then he couldn't wait any more and he climbed between her legs.  Her few
wisps of hair were no barrier as his hands found her thighs and pushed them
apart.  He felt resistance, and Sally lifted her head off the pillow,
looking down at him.

   "Bobby, what are you doing Bobby?

   He showed her what he was doing as she sucked in air and her belly went
concave again.  First he sucked at those plump lips, sucking them into his
mouth.  They were fleshy and firm.  Her hips thrust up off the bed, but he
remembered how Prudence had done the same thing and was ready for that. 
His mouth rode her and he dropped to his elbows, cupping her bony buttocks.
She was delicious.

   Then he feasted.

   For Sally, the world suddenly jerked, and seemed to turn ninety degrees
to one side.  Not only had no man touched her between her legs, but she had
never really touched herself there either.  She had all the normal hormones
in her body to create the state of being aroused, and she had been aroused
before.  But she hadn't know what to do about it.  She suffered through
those bouts of frustrated horniness and eventually they went away.  When
she had offered her nipple to a cranky baby, she had received the first
sexual stimulation in her life that involved the touch of another human. 
Bobby had been the first boy or man to kiss her.  His lips on her nipples
had brought her her first orgasm.  When she realized that he had gotten up
to suck them again, rather than just ravish her, her panic abated.  She was
ready for an orgasm now from those sweet sucking lips.

   And then he had stopped sucking.  True, his lips on her stomach were
wonderful, but she wanted them to go back to those aching nipples.

   Instead, they had gone between her legs.  If she'd have had time to
think about it, she might have rationalized that, if a woman could put her
mouth on a man's sex organ, it didn't seem like much of a stretch for him
to put his mouth on the woman's sex organ.  Of course she didn't have time
to reflect.  She forgot all about where her mouth had been, and she stared
unbelieving as he leaned in and made the world jerk.  She took in a breath,
and it froze, deep in her lungs as he sucked at her pussy lips.  Her head
hit the pillow and her back arched automatically and she felt his hands on
her naked buttocks.  Then he let her nether lips go and gave his face a
funny little side to side wiggle and his lips found that same little spot
that his finger had teased not so long before.

   When he sucked on that, Sally thought she might actually die from the
pleasure of it.  Her overworked intercostal muscles relaxed and her breath
gushed out in a babbling moan, a series of nonsensical sounds.  The sounds
stopped as she dragged in a fresh breath, and began again immediately as it
was expelled.  Panic flicked at her like tiny whips striking her body as
she realized that surely no mere human being was allowed to feel this kind
of ecstasy.  Then, what she now realized was an orgasm, washed over her and
she flopped, her arms bouncing off the bed, and her head twisting from side
to side.  She felt her legs come up off the bed, her knees bent, as they
spread apart of their own volition and the orgasm shook her bones.  Her
heels thumped into the center of his back as her thighs crushed his head
between them, but still he sucked and licked and teased her clit.

   To preserve her sanity, Sally willed her legs to open again, and pushed
at his head.

   "No more," she gasped.  "No more." Great wracking breaths whistled in
and out of her lungs as Bobby lifted his shiny face, grinning like he'd
been told the funniest joke he'd ever heard.  Then he dropped his head and
kissed those lips, getting another spastic jerk out of her loins as she
begged him to stop.

   He pushed up and sat back on his heels.  Sally looked at him and her
eyes were drawn to his erection, which had a string of silver hanging from
the tip.  She licked her parched lips and wanted to taste that drip of
silver more than anything in the world.  Finding reserves of strength she
didn't think she had, she sat and rolled, lifting her right leg to get it
past him.  She fell to the floor and scrambled up, not feeling the bruises
that would show in the morning.  She suddenly felt stronger than the
mythical giants Meg read about to the children and she reached out to push
Bobby to his back, where she had just been lying.  Then, with an almost
feral growl, she leapt on the bed and her mouth captured that stiff column
of flesh.

   For a few seconds Bobby was afraid she was going to bite him.  Her teeth
raked down his shaft and he winced, but then her lips sealed on him and she
pulled up, sucking.  His prick left her mouth with a sound as she slurped
and then swallowed.

   "I want your juice," she said, her voice sounding deeper.  "Give me your
juice."

   Then she went back to sucking him.  Her hands slid down his hips and
under them, to pull him up against her face and his prick slid past the
point where her gag reflex was located.  She was so surprised that the
instantaneous gagging feeling was gone before her body could react to it.
She could feel him in her throat and she loved that feeling.  She pulled up
and gagged again as the tip of his penis slid past that point again.  But
she was so excited that she thrust her face down on him again, fighting the
gag reflex by pure will until she felt his soft brown hairs tickling her
nose.  She felt the urge to sneeze, and pulled off of him to cough until
the urge was gone.  Her hand gripped him and stroked while she rested and
watched as the head of his prick was uncovered and then covered again.  She
sucked the head, still stroking and heard his groans with an elation that
thrilled her.  When the first rush of warmth entered her mouth she
swallowed it, and then dove down on him again, pushing her nose into his
pubes.

   That didn't work so well.  Bobby kept spurting, but she couldn't swallow
because her throat was full of prick.  She had another brush with panic as
she choked and pulled up off him to cough again.  His white spend
splattered all over his abdomen as she coughed, but the choking sensation
was gone and she was able to swallow again.  His penis was running with
milky white and she closed her mouth over it to suck it clean, reveling in
his taste.  Then she licked up all the splatter as he panted.

   Afterward, lying quietly with him was so wonderful, his warm body under
hers, his fingers tracing small circles in the middle of her lower back,
that Sally's eyes filled with tears that ran happily down over her nose and
dripped on his chest.  She wished this night would go on forever.

   Like Mavis, Sally woke in the night.  Her waking was different, though.
She had been dreaming, but couldn't remember the dream.  Then she became
aware of Bobby's warm body under her.  When he was clean, she had crawled
up on top of him, to lie on him.  for hugs and kisses, and they had fallen
asleep that way.  She wondered at how good it could feel to lie on top of
something so hard as a body, but she loved it.  She listened to his breath
as he slept.  Her face was down in his neck, and that was a little
uncomfortable.  She wiggled down toward his feet so she could lay her face
on his chest, which was a good idea.  That put her pussy lips right on his
soft penis, and that felt wonderful too.  She couldn't resist the urge to
rub against it, trying to make it touch that wonderful special spot he'd
made her feel so good with.

   The kerosene lantern had gone out, but there was a full moon that night,
and its white light flowed in through the window.  As she rubbed her pussy
back and forth on that lump she could see his face.  His eyes opened.

   "Hi" she said, feeling foolish.

   His loins tensed and pushed up against her.

   "You like that?" she whispered.  He nodded and she said "Me too."

   She felt him getting hard, and that was even better.  She wiggled until
her fat pussy lips split apart and rode along his lengthening rod.  She
felt electric tingles shoot through her as her clit came into direct
contact with his cock.

   "Ohhhh yes I like this," she murmured.

   On the upstroke she leaned down to kiss his lips softly, before she rode
that long hard thing back down towards their feet.  She set up a rhythm of
doing that, sliding forward for a kiss, and then back away from his face.
Her nipples scraped along his chest, and that felt good too.  She suddenly
realized she could have an orgasm this way too, and her speed increased. 
Her pussy got slick and wet, and that just made it all feel even better. 
Her movements got faster and it was inevitable that she slid forward enough
to slip down off the head of his prick and onto his abdomen.  When she
rocked back, his prick nosed into her pussy mouth and stuck there.

   "MMMM" she said as she felt pain.  But it was a sweet pain.  She lifted
up and slid back down his shaft, and this time slid forward off of him on
purpose.  She pushed back, feeling his penis prod her open pussy and she
felt the pain again.  She knew enough about sex to know that his penis was
supposed to fit inside her.  She honestly hadn't thought about actually
doing that.  She was completely satisfied with what they did together.  But
this strange pain was addictive somehow.  She knew that if she pushed hard
enough, it might go in her a little more.  She doubted that her small body
could take that thing fully into it.  Surely she was smaller down there
than her throat was.

   But it felt so nice to push against that blunt slippery head the
produced such delicious pudding.  So she rocked, and she pushed, and she
rocked, and she pushed, and then, unexpectedly, the head popped through
that pain, causing the pain to increase to a sharpness that wasn't
pleasurable.

   "Ohh owwww" she complained.  It wasn't fair that something so nice
should hurt so much.

   She rocked back forward and the pain vanished, to be replaced by a dull
ache.  She lifted up and slid her clit down his shaft, pleased that the
tingling feeling was back.  Again she rocked too far forward, and pushed,
and the head slid into her again.  The pain wasn't so sharp this time,
though still uncomfortable.

   Then his prick spat, and her pussy tunnel was filled with warm spend. 
She knew instantly what it was.  She knew instantly that his pudding was
going inside her.  He grunted and his hips lifted, and she felt more warm
fluid inside her.  She wiggled, loving the feel of the heat inside her. 
She realized that it had gone deeper and now the pain was more of a
stretching sensation that, while it wasn't pleasurable, was not so bad. 
She wiggled some more as he grunted again.  He went in further, but then
stopped.  She felt a sudden desire for more and pushed against his chest
with her hands to sit up, drawing her knees up beside his hips.  Carefully,
she let her weight down and was shocked to feel that sack under his penis
touching her buttocks.

   She sat and just concentrated on the feelings.  What he had done to her
before had driven her mad.  But this was a different kind of feeling.  She
could feel that spot tingling, but his penis rubbed the tender inner flesh
of her body in a way that was just as good, but eminently more bearable. 
She rocked and his penis moved inside her, stroking her inner walls and she
sighed.

   This she could do all night long.

   She knew if she tried hard enough, she could have an orgasm doing this.
But it was just as nice to just feel him inside of her.  She wasn't aware
that his prick had gone half soft after it filled her belly with sperm.  It
was cold, sitting up like this.  The covers had fallen down her back when
she sat up.  She lay down on him again, reaching behind her for the covers.
He gripped them himself and pulled them up.

   With her face on his chest, and his young penis in her pussy, Sally
Winston fell asleep on top of the man who had just destroyed the maidenhead
she had always assumed would be firmly intact until the day she died.

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

   Thursday afternoon, Bobby introduced Rachel to the joys of having a
man's mouth on her sex.

   She tasted wonderful too.  She was awfully loud, and Bobby wondered if
he should ask Mavis to make another of those cloth ropes for her, but she
tasted wonderful.

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

   Sally didn't tell anyone that she was no longer a virgin.  It wasn't a
topic of conversation that was easy to insert into their usual idle
chatter. It never even entered her mind to confide in Meg or Mavis that
Bobby had made her crazy with his mouth glued to her sex.

   And it just so happened that Meg never saw Bobby leaving either woman's
room in the morning, so she was not aware that he had spent the whole night
in their beds.

   Meg simply had no idea that the boy she'd experimented with, such a
relatively short time ago, and who, before she gave him that bath, was
completely uninitiated in the ways of sex, was now an accomplished and
experienced lover.

   Like Sally, she was thrilled with the little they'd done together,
though to her it wasn't little at all.  It was earth shaking to her to have
been naked, in a bathtub, while a man's hands had roamed across her body,
and to have taken his manhood into her mouth.  Like Sally, she was looking
forward to the comfort of being able to play with him in bed, her body
pressed against his as she got hot kisses prior to sucking him.  Like
Sally, she just hadn't thought seriously about the mysteries full sexual
intercourse.  It was something that happened when you got married, and the
man knew what to do.  That was the extent of the sexual education her
mother had given her.  She had caught only a glimpse of Bobby on top of
Mavis in the bathroom, and she had thought about that glimpse a lot.  But
she hadn't been able to see the penetration, and that was still something
that she had no imagination for.

   So Meg didn't think about inviting Bobby to stay the night in her bed.
What she planned to do was go to his room, play with him and swallow his
delicious warm sperm, and then go to her own bed.

   She took Constance and Felicity to their room, following June Bug and
Emily, who were dragging Bobby to theirs.  Emily was complaining that it
wasn't fair that Bobby couldn't tell them a good night story like Sally
did, but she didn't sound all that upset.  When she had Constance and
Felicity tucked in she waited in the doorway to the next room while Emily
hugged Bobby's neck fiercely and she said she loved him.  Then he gave June
Bug a kiss on her forehead while she wiggled with joy under her covers,
before turning him over to Jenny, who kissed him too.

   Meg's heart almost burst, and she felt her pussy getting wet.

   When Bobby stood up to leave and saw Meg waiting for him, he smiled.  It
wasn't a particularly special smile ...  just a smile for Meg.  When he got
to the door though, she put her arms around him and kissed him on the lips,
a long, hot kiss.

   When she had to stop to breathe she leaned back and looked into his
eyes.

   "You're a sweet man," she said.

   He smiled again and his hands slid to her hips.

   "I'm going to tuck you in," she said.  "Would you like that?"

   What Bobby would like to do was lie on top of this beautiful woman and
slide his prick into her until he spurted.  But he made no assumptions. 
Bobby's experience with women to that point in his life was completely
atypical for most boys, and unheard of for a virgin orphan.  In an odd sort
of way his reaction to each of the women was to accept their sexual
attention as simply their expression of friendship and love for him. 
Nobody had taught him that he shouldn't express friendship like that with
more than one woman.  At that point in his life he would happily have
fucked any woman someone else would have classified as a "friend".  On the
other hand, he got many more opportunities to spurt in a woman than any
other man in town, so he wasn't driven, particularly, to seek that with a
woman either.

   So, while he was a little disappointed that all Meg was going to do was
tuck him in, he wasn't unhappy.  Maybe she'd kiss him again.  He liked
kissing her.

   He was therefore surprised when she took him to his room and, while he
undressed, she did too.

   "I'm going to stay here for a little while," she said, her voice husky.
"I want to do what we did in the bathroom."

   Bobby's cock sprang to full hardness instantly.

   Meg's plan for the night was a very simple and basic one.  She would rub
up against him ...  dry this time ...  and she would suck him until he
spurted, and maybe she'd get that tingly wonderful feeling in her belly. 
Then, happy and warm, she would go to her own bed and sleep peacefully.  To
us it sounds like a silly kind of plan, but Meg had no frame of reference
to compare her plan against.

   She had no idea that, when her naked body touched Bobby's under the
covers, that the warm smooth feel of his skin against hers would make her
want never to get out of the bed again.  She had felt his fingers on her
nipple in the bathtub, and just that touch had brought her to a climax, and
now, feeling his skin against her legs and chest and arms she was primed to
pop again.  It was so intense that she didn't know what to do next.  Her
mouth watered for the taste of his prick, but that meant she'd have to get
to her knees, and his warm body wouldn't be pressed against her any more.

   Then he started kissing her, and she suddenly forgot all about anything
else.

   Bobby's formula for getting his penis in a nice hot pussy was fairly
basic and simple.  He knew women liked to be kissed, and he knew what kind
of kisses made them wiggle.  He had never seen Meg's pussy lips, and it was
too dark in his room for that, especially under the covers.  But he wanted
to taste her.  So he started kissing his way in that direction.

   Meg couldn't believe what she was feeling.  Bobby's kisses on her lips
were wonderful.  She loved them, and could happily kiss him like that for
hours.  But then he started kissing her cheeks, and jaw and throat and she
shivered because those kisses were so different.  She was completely
unprepared for him to close his mouth over her nipples and suck them.  The
intensity of the feeling all but paralyzed her and she whined, staring into
the dark with her eyes wide open.  Suddenly, the loss of the feel of his
skin against hers wasn't so bad.

   Meg was an intelligent woman.  There were gaps in her education, sex
being one of them, but given a set of facts, she could use her brain to
make deductions and could, in most cases, anticipate an outcome.  So, when
Bobby started kissing his way down her body, stopping at her breasts for
long enough to make her brain boil, and then KEPT kissing lower, across her
belly, Meg had a pretty good idea where he was going.

   What came into her mind at that moment, was the memory of her favorite
dog, a Beagle, named Sunshine.  She had been ten at the time, and Sunshine
followed her everywhere.  Except one day, when she stepped out of the
house, Sunshine wasn't there.  She went looking for the dog and found her
in the back yard, playing with Howard Thurston's dog, which was named Blue
for some strange reason.  Meg had seen dogs sniff each other, so that was
nothing new.  But Blue was doing a lot more than sniffing Sunshine.  Blue
was LICKING sunshine!  As Meg walked closer she could see that Sunshine was
LETTING Blue lick her, standing with her tail up, and her back legs spread.
Meg looked, curiously, and saw that the vertical black split, under
Sunshine's poop hole, was all swollen up.  Then Blue had jumped up on
Sunshine's back with his front paws and his rear end had started smacking
into Sunshine's rear end and Meg screamed and ran to get help.  When she
told her mother to come quick because Blue was hurting Sunshine ...  well,
that was when she got her lecture about what happened when a woman got
married.  Such as it was.

   While Meg was remembering that incident, Bobby reached his target,
crawled between her legs under the covers, and stuck his tongue in her
pussy.

   Meg quit thinking about Sunshine.  Except insofar as she thought about
how strange it was for Bobby to be doing this.  People didn't do this. 
Dogs did this.

   Then she couldn't think about anything any more.  She wasn't sure she
could remember to breathe any more.  There was a huge sunburst of joy that
was consuming her body ...  turning it to ash ...  except that it didn't.
She took in a shuddering breath as the feeling began to fade and she could
sense things about her body again.  She could feel Bobby's cheeks between
her thighs, and his slippery tongue against where she sometimes rubbed. 
She was delighted that he had thought to do this wonderful thing for her.
She wasn't sure what had just happened.  It had been so much stronger than
anything she'd ever felt before that she wasn't sure it was even real.  At
any rate, she wanted to thank him for giving it to her.  She wanted to kiss
him again.  That was how she would thank him.  She pulled at his hair to
get him to come up to her face for a kiss.  He could always go back down
there later.

   Bobby felt her body signal that it was going through an orgasm.  She had
a big clit, that was easy to suck and chew on.  Then he felt her pulling
him up.  When the other women had done this they were ready to be
penetrated.  His prick ached with need now.  As he moved up he fisted it,
getting it ready.  He rubbed the tip along her inner thigh until he felt
the juncture of her legs.  Then he felt the tip slip into that familiar
heat.

   As he kissed her lips, he pushed.

   He still didn't understand virginity.  When he pushed he felt resistance
and pushed harder.  With a sudden release he was able to power forward and
sink into Meg clear to her cervix.  Her groan of pain was muffled by his
lips sealing hers.  Her fingers scrabbling at his hips, trying to push that
hurtful thing out of her body were ineffectual.  Bobby, knowing how the
others liked to have him deep inside them and moving so that it rubbed that
special place, began to rub his embedded prick in circles, mashing Meg's
clitty by rubbing it in circles too.

   Meg was still coming down from her blinding orgasm when her body felt
the invader at her sexual gates.  Those gates still hummed with the
pleasure his tongue and teeth had given her.  When the first stretching
came, she barely had time to recognize it when it was replaced by a sharp
stinging pain that made her cry out into Bobby's mouth.  That was instantly
followed by the feeling that her insides were being moved around by what
was forcing its way into her pussy.  Her thighs automatically flexed apart,
trying to ease the pressure, but now that pressure was deep inside her. 
She felt panic as her mind grappled with the feelings ...  and what they
meant.  She had no doubt what they meant, but the concept was something she
was not prepared to think about.

   She tried to push his hips away, but her hands slipped off his skin and
she groaned again as his pubic bone hit her own.  Tears leaked from her
tightly closed eyes from the residual burning at the bottom of her pussy
lips where her maidenhead lay shredded.

   Then he began his circular rotation, and Meg sucked in another lungful
of air to replace what had just been used in that groan.  She held this in
her lungs though, because what was happening down there now had wiped out
all pain ...  wiped out her ability to think clearly.  His lips were still
on hers, and what he was doing made her use her tongue to find his.  Her
legs flopped, her knees hitting the mattress and then coming back up to
bounce off of his hips.  She couldn't hold her breath any more and her
combination groan and whine whistled into his mouth so hard that some of it
came out his nose.  He pulled back from her lips in surprise and her eyes
popped open.  She could see that he was in the same position over her that
he had been over Mavis.

   This was what he had been doing to Mavis.

   She didn't understand how this had happened, but right then she didn't
care.  All she cared about was that he kept doing what he was doing.

   "Yes" she panted, her hands going to his hips now to help them complete
their little circles.

   "Ohhh yes!" she groaned.

   She began to realize there had been numbness, that was fading away, and
she could feel his prick moving around inside her.  She could feel her
vaginal walls being massaged, and the tip of his cock was digging into
something that was deliciously painful deep inside her.  Her hips gave a
convulsive lurch as he pressed, trying to get him even deeper and she felt
the tingling warning that she was going to have an orgasm.  She had been
unprepared for his entry ...  unprepared for the pain ...  and her whirling
mind reached for that orgasm as something she thought she knew what to
expect from.

   But when she reached for it, and welcomed it, its intensity was so much
more than anything she'd ever felt before that it overwhelmed her and she
burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably as the pleasure washed through her
body like fire.  Her mind screamed that, if this wasn't a real orgasm, she
never wanted to have one, because a real one would kill her.

   Bobby heard her sobs and even though he couldn't see her face his lips
felt the wet of her tears.  He realized that her tightness meant he had
hurt her and that fact lanced into his heart.  He stopped moving, difficult
though that was, and held himself still.

   Meg's sobs continued as her hips jerked repeatedly up against him.  When
she felt him stop moving and the delicious sensations he was causing began
to wane, her fingers grabbed at his hips again, trying to make him move.

   "Oh don't stop ...  Mooooore" she moaned between gasps for air.

   Bobby was confused by her tears, and her body's response that signaled
she liked what was happening.  Very slowly he dragged his still rod almost
out of her pussy and then eased back in to see what her response would be.
Her hands pulled at his hips and her pussy jumped up to gobble his prick.

   "Ohhhhh yessssss" she gasped.

   He set up a slow rhythm of repeating those moves and he heard her get
better control of her breath as her orgasm faded slowly.  Her head lifted,
her lips trying to kiss him.  She missed in the dark and got his cheek and
he moved his lips to find hers.  Hers were hungry and she bit his lower
lip, sucking on it before mashing her lips against his hard and licking his
tongue frantically.  Then her head flopped back down on the pillow.

   "Ohhh more Bobby, please more," she moaned through her teeth.

   His speed increased until he was slicking in and out of her slippery
channel and his pubic bone started to impact her clit again.  She gave a
little yip each time that happened, which turned to an explosive "Uh!" each
time, her grunts coming faster and faster as he sped up.

   Then the moment was upon him and he pressed in deep to deliver his thick
sperm into the mouth of her womb as she strained up against him, rubbing
her clit hard against him.

   That extended contact with her clit, and the warm bath he was spurting
into her brought another orgasm within reach and she snatched for it again,
almost frantic to see if this one would be as sweet and hot as the last. 
Her welcome turned into a long, drawn out "UHHHHHHhhhhhnnnnnnng" as the
fire swept through her again, her body jerking spasmodically under Bobby's
weight.

   Bobby sagged, letting his chest down on her breasts, and Meg welcomed
that weight as her mind felt like she was floating off somewhere.  There
were long minutes during which they both just breathed.  When he started to
roll sideways, she stopped him, not wanting the feel of his skin to go
away. She wanted more kisses and she found herself squeezing his softening
cock with muscles she hadn't been aware of before this happened.

   "Ooooooo, it's getting soft," she complained in his ear.

   Meg's reaction to having sex was different than that of the others. 
Being prodded like that energized her, instead of making her lazy.  She
felt full of energy, no longer interested in sleep.  Part of her mind was
still anticipating tasting him, and now she pushed him off of her, getting
to her knees under the covers and kissing her way down to his groin.  She
knew her own smell, and it was strong under the confining covers, but she
had no room in her brain to think about that as she found his limp cock and
sucked it into her mouth.  Now she tasted the difference ...  her taste
mixed with his as she suckled him happily.  It felt so different in her
mouth when it was soft, and she could play with it with her tongue.  She
liked being able to get all of it in her mouth at one time.  His moan
electrified her and she sucked harder, delighted that it became more firm.
She worked and played until it was hard again, amazed that something so
soft could get so firm.

   She kissed her way back up his body, stopping to suck at his nipples, so
different from her own.  When she got to his lips she kissed him hungrily.

   "More" she said, pulling him over on top of her.

   The second time she felt him gush inside her, and that raging fire swept
through her body again, she was content to lie with him, alternating
between nibbling his ear and pressing her hot lips to his.

   Finally they slept.

   She awoke early, with the dawn, and now she could see his face.  She
demanded that he mount her again, wincing at first at the pain of his
initial entry and the scrape of his hard prick against abused and tender
flesh.  But that pain faded quickly as she reached for another of those
fantastic orgasms.

   As he grunted for the third time that night, and his penis spurted its
life-giving fluid deep in her belly, Meg knew she was addicted to this ...
that she would have to have this often, for as long as she lived.

   She gave no thought at all to the fact that she was dead in the middle
of her cycle, or that, with all the sperm her womb now held, it was almost
impossible that one of them wouldn't ferlize the egg that was descending
through her fallopian tube, and almost to her womb.

   CHAPTER TWELVE

   That morning, when Bobby appeared at breakfast, Mavis took him aside.

   "Bobby, what you do with us in bed ...  do you like that?"

   Bobby looked at her like she was crazy, and nodded, smiling.

   "You do that with Prudence too, don't you ...  at her house?" she asked.

   Months earlier Bobby would probably have tried to avoid answering.  But
his relationships with all the women had convinced him that what they ...
and he did was acceptable, so he nodded again.

   "I'm going to send you over to Prudence's house this morning," said
Mavis.  "She doesn't know about the rest of us.  But if we're all going to
share you then she needs to have a place in the schedule too.  Are you sure
this is all all right with you?" Mavis couldn't believe she was having this
conversation.

   Bobby nodded again, smiling, and Mavis snorted.

   "Why I thought a man might balk is beyond me," she said, half to
herself.

   Prudence was home, wondering if she could finagle a way to get with
Bobby again when he appeared at her door suddenly, with a note from Mavis
that said "Saturday is your day with Bobby." She didn't understand at
first, but when she looked up from the note to see Bobby undressing, she
blushed bright red.

   "They know about us?" she asked, aghast.

   He smiled and nodded.

   "And she SENT you here?!" asked Prudence again, unbelieving.

   Bobby was naked now, his prick straining toward her.  He held out his
arms for a hug.

   Prudence decided not to ask any more questions.  Dropping her housedress
was simple.  Getting to the bed without stopping to kiss him took more self
control.

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

   Life in Milleson House went on, much as it had in the past, but vastly
different too.  Though times were hard, and the war pulled at everyone's
spirits, for Mavis, Meg, Sally and Prudence, life now had hope, and joy and
love that made each day something to look forward to.  While all of the
women wanted to make love with Bobby much more frequently than once a week,
all four women treated that experience like chocolate, or sugar, or any of
the other treats that were rationed at that time in American life.  They
accepted the ache of anticipation they endured each time they looked at
Bobby, or worked beside him, letting the anticipation build until it was
their turn to lie with him and submerge themselves in his hot embrace and
spurting penis.

   That one planning session notwithstanding, the women were too inhibited
by the rules of polite discourse to discuss their relationships with Bobby
in the open.  While all of the participants knew the schedule, and made
accommodations for that schedule, there was no public discussion about what
went on behind the doors that the women pulled Bobby through.

   Only Donna had no idea of the underlying relationships that were going
on.  Meg or Sally continued to give him his bath, when it became apparent
that changing the routine would alert Donna that something had happened. 
But now, other than perhaps a quick blow job, they controlled what happened
in the bathroom, saving their lust for a time when they could welcome it
with open arms.

   The women took what they could get ...  gratefully and with vigor.

   Bobby ate more, took more naps, and looked forward to the nights.  His
body strengthened as his testosterone levels were raised by his amorous
activities.  He was eminently qualified for the role he was asked to play.

   The cabinet maker was elated with the quality of work that Bobby did for
him in the afternoons.  The fact that the teacher still wanted to work with
him two days a week bothered him only because that meant Bobby couldn't
produce quite as much of his detailed and gorgeous carvings.  Bobby grasped
the importance of riffle files immediately, and his carvings soon took on
the professional appearance of a master craftsman.  His work began to be
requested, and a bank account was opened in his name.  It took three weeks
for Bobby to understand (and accept, really) what a bank was, and that he
actually had money in that facility that was his, and which he could access
for his own wants.

   In short, all was well in Bobby's little microcosm of human
relationships for the first time in his life.  If he hadn't reached level
five of Mister Maslow's pyramid, he wasn't far from it.

   As was stated at the beginning of this tale, however, life is a
struggle. The good fortune that had descended on Milleson house couldn't
last forever.

   And it did not.

   On the seventh of May, 1945, which just happened to be Sally's scheduled
day for hot sex with Bobby, Germany surrendered unconditionally to the
Allied forces.  The next day was declared Victory in Europe day and the
whole country celebrated.

   America, including those few Americans in Hampstead Nebraska, went nuts.


   What Americans in general did, that day, is well documented.  What
happened in Hampstead Nebraska, a mere footnote compared to larger events,
was that Sally Winston, an unmarried woman of age twenty-three, lay with
her lover, Bobby Martin, a supposedly mute orphan boy, and got thoroughly
pregnant.  The euphoria of Germany's surrender could be argued to have, in
some part, been responsible.  For one thing, she was joyous to her very
core when she let Bobby spurt her belly full of his virile sperm.  Some
doctors claim that a woman who is relaxed and happy is more fertile than
one who is not.  For another, she did not think about where she was in her
monthly cycle, which had never been regular, but which she still tried to
guess at before she took Bobby's sperm into her womb.  On those days when
she thought it might be dangerous, she simply sucked down his delicious
treat in her throat.  But on this day, she was so happy that she just
wanted to celebrate ...  and celebrate she did, getting pregnant in the
process.

   Germany's surrender had other consequences as well.  Fresh troops being
sent there to fight, ended up relieving weary combat troops, who were
pulled out for badly needed rest and relaxation before being shifted to the
Pacific Theater, where the war was decidedly NOT over.  The fresh troops,
and those who managed to stay in Germany and France, took up occupation
duties.

   That created two situations that would, in time, change everything in
Milleson House.

   The first was that Prudence received official notification that her
husband was seeking a divorce.  She had known this would happen, and had
not sought it herself only because she still depended on his income, at
least to some extent.  Still she was both hurt and angry.  She assuaged her
anger and hurt in Bobby's arms ...  extensively.  She missed her very next
period, which was supposed to have arrived the middle of June.

   The second was that, in early June, Donna got a letter from her son,
Wally, that said he was being given leave to come home.  He knew he would
only be able to stay for thirty days, and that he would have to go
somewhere after that, but didn't know where that was.  He made oblique
mention that his two best friends, one of whom had saved his life, were
coming with him because they had nowhere else, really, to go.

   The celebrations carried into bed with Bobby.  For Rachel, who know knew
she was pregnant, and Prudence, who suspected she was in the same
situation, Their angst about that was more easily subdued as they joined in
the national feeling that things were looking up.  For the rest, the
euphoria about the war's end, at least in europe, made their time with
Bobby just that much sweeter.  Of them all, only Donna had no outlet for
her intense joy - that her son was coming home.

   It was on a Saturday, mid morning, when the excitement and strain got to
Donna as she paced in her lonely farm house.  She thought of things that
needed to be done around the house, but couldn't get motivated to do any of
them.  Instead, on impulse, she decided to go visit Pru.

   That, in itself, wasn't so strange.  She had a close bond to Pru because
she knew what it was like to lose a husband, even though Pru had lost hers
in a totally different way than Donna had.  She had visited Prudence many
times in the past, but it had slacked off during the cold winter months. 
She hurried toward's Pru's house, anticipating taking her mind off the
anguish of waiting for her son's homecoming by filling the morning with
idle chat.

   It also wasn't unusual for her to just open the door and walk into Pru's
tiny house.  She simply called out merrily as she did so.

   She was completely and utterly unprepared to find Pru, naked, flat on
her back, legs spread, with a man lunging between those legs as Pru moaned
her pleasure.  And as her numb mind recognized who that man was with his
cock obviously buried deep in Pru's belly, her mind struggled to make sense
of it all.

   Two faces turned to look at her as she stood in the open doorway.  Pru's
expression flashed to one of horror.  Bobby simply smiled his usual
welcoming smile.

   "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Donna screeched.

   Prudence's face unfroze and she pushed Bobby off of her.  She looked at
her friend, who stood frozen, gasping for air like she had run as fast as
she could, for as long as she could.

   "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Donna croaked, this time, her voice taking on a
whine.

   Prudence had no idea what to say, so she said nothing.  She put her
dressing gown on and belted it to cover her nakedness.  Then she went to
Donna and pulled her gently into the house and closed the door.

   "YOU'RE MARRIED!" yipped Donna.

   This was something Prudence could talk about.  "You know good and well
that I'm not married any longer, or won't be soon.  Don't try to make me
feel bad," she said, defensive now.

   "But ...  but ...  that's BOBBY!" squeaked Donna, staring at Bobby, who
sat, still naked, Indian style on the bed, watching the two women with
interest.  He was unashamed of his nakedness, and the ease with which he
sat there made the situation seem all the more odd to Donna.

   "Yes, that's Bobby," agreed Pru.  "Now come in and sit down."

   "What?" asked Donna, looking at Pru for the first time since she'd put
on her dressing gown.

   "Come in and sit down," said Pru, like she was talking to a child.

   Donna's mind was beginning to adapt.  What her eyes had told her was
going on was so bizarre that she had tried to deny them.  But, as she
looked at Bobby her mind began to realize that what she had seen was real.

   "You can't do that," she said, her voice a whisper.

   "I already have, so you may as well not take that attitude," said
Prudence.  Her attitude about this was beginning to change too.  Instead of
shame, which she knew she SHOULD feel, the only thing she WAS feeling was
fear and anger that it might be taken away from her.

   "You could get pregnant," said Donna, reaching with her mind for
something pragmatic to talk about.

   "I already am ...  I think," said Prudence.

   "WHAT?!" gasped Donna.

   "We've been ...  doing this ...  for some time now," said Prudence. 
"And you know my husband has abandoned me.  I'll be divorced soon.  If I
get nothing else out of this damned war, I'll at least get the baby that
that bastard couldn't give me before he went away and found another woman."
She felt hot with anger now.  "And it serves him right that I'm going to
have Bobby's baby instead of his!" she said firmly.

   "But what will Mavis say?" asked Donna.  This was too strange, and her
mind flitted about, going from one concept to another.

   Prudence thought it might be too much for Donna to grasp if she admitted
that all the rest of the women were doing the same thing with Bobby.  "I
don't know," said Pru quietly.  "I haven't told her yet." That was,
technically true.  Pru had not confided in anyone that she thought she
might be pregnant.

   "I don't understand any of this," moaned Donna, sitting down in a chair.

   For lack of anything else to say, Prudence spilled her guts about that
first time with Bobby had come about, and how she had gotten so excited in
the bathroom, and was so upset about her husband's abandonment, that she
had brought Bobby home and their relationship had started.

   "Why didn't you tell ME?" she asked wounded.

   "I didn't know how you'd react," admitted Prudence.  "You might have
complained, or forbidden us, or even told others."

   "How SHOULD I react?" asked Donna heatedly.  "Sneaking around behind my
back like that!  Having SEX with a boy!  What were you THINKING?!" she
shouted.

   Prudence expected this from her friend.  But her desire to maintain the
pleasure she shared with Bobby made her fight to keep that.

   "He makes me HAPPY, Donna!" she said back forcefully.  "He makes me feel
loved!  Is that such a terrible thing?" she asked earnestly.

   "But ...  you can't just ...  have sex with him!" said Donna, her voice
lower.

   "Why not?" asked Pru, yearning in her voice.  "Bobby certainly doesn't
mind." She swiveled her head to him.  "Do you Bobby?"

   Bobby shook his head and smiled.

   Donna looked at him in disbelief.  "But he's just a BOY!" she said.

   Prudence straightened her shoulders.  "No he's not," she said.  "He's as
much a man as your son is.  He'll be seventeen in just months.  He's all
man when he's with me."

   Prudence's response made Donna think again about what she'd seen when
she opened the door.  She remembered something now that she hadn't realized
or thought about.  When Prudence had pushed Bobby off of her and he'd
gotten to his knees, his penis had been long and straight and hard, shiny
with the moisture they had created.  He HAD looked like a man right then!
She felt something twist in her loins as she remembered how long and hard
he had looked.  Her husband had been short, and never that ...  hard
looking.  That was the kind of penis that could easily make babies ...  had
made one in Prudence, in fact.

   Donna blinked, and her eyes went to Prudence.  "You're going to have his
baby?!" she said, as if she hadn't quite understood before, but did now.

   Prudence actually smiled.  "Yes," she said.

   "But that's not fair!" said Donna.  Her mouth snapped shut.  She
couldn't imagine where that came from.

   "Why not?" asked Pru again.  "I'm a woman.  I wanted children.  My
husband didn't give me one.  Now he never will.  Maybe I'll just marry
Bobby when he turns seventeen!"

   "I wanted more children too!" said Donna heatedly.  "But I didn't get
them either.  That doesn't mean you can have them with Bobby!"

   "Didn't you ever look at him when he came out of the bathroom on bath
night?" asked Pru.  "Didn't you ever look at him as a man and wonder what
it would be like?" It was obvious what she meant.

   "Of course I did," said Donna, exasperated.  Then she blinked again. 
Why had she said that?

   "I did too," said Pru patiently.  "I just did something about it."

   "What if I wanted to too?" asked Donna, suddenly angry that she had been
left out.  Her eyes got wide and she clapped her hands over her mouth.

   Prudence felt hope for the first time since Donna had come into the
room. "If we'd have known you wanted to, you'd have been included," she
said.  On impulse she turned to Bobby again.  "Bobby?  If Donna wanted you
to make love to her, would you be willing to do that for her?"

   Bobby's smile bloomed and he nodded firmly.  He tried not to look too
eager.  It was obvious that Donna had some problem with what had been going
on.  This was a new concept to Bobby, and he wondered about her responses.

   Donna's life had been pale and colorless after Walter had died.  Except
for her son, who then went off to war, she had felt like she had nothing
left.  She didn't know the ways of men, having married so young, and her
life had been isolated on the farm until she started working at Milleson
House.  Coming to town every day had been something that brought a little
color to her life, and she depended on that to keep her interested in life.
Like many widows, the thought of trying to start another relationship
seemed like it would be more trouble and pain than it would be worth.  And
she HAD looked at Bobby's naked body as that of a man, with tittilating
unformed fantasies shooting thrills through her body.

   That, combined with the excitement she felt about the war being over in
Europe and her son coming home, but couldn't find an outlet for, is
probably responsible for her completely uncharacteristic response to all
that Prudence had said.  That, and seeing Bobby's smile ...  the eagerness
on his face at the idea of doing something so intimate with her.

   "This is crazy," she said, her voice dull, as her mind tried to convince
her that what she was now thinking of was, indeed crazy.

   "I don't know about that," said Pru.  "All I know is that Bobby makes me
gloriously happy."

   Again Donna thought about that long hard prick she had seen, and she
felt her nipples tighten.

   "I'd like to be happy again," she sighed.

   "Bobby can make you happy, Donna," Prudence urged.

   "Can he?" asked Donna, her voice young.

   "Oh yes," assured Prudence.  "Do you want him to make you happy right
now, Donna?"

   "Now?" asked Donna.  "Here?"

   "I don't mind," said Prudence, now trying to seal the suggestion.  If
Donna lay with Bobby than everything would just go on as usual, and she
wanted that badly.

   "In front of you?" whined Donna, suddenly wanting more than anything
else to be ...  happy.

   "I can go to the kitchen and fix us all some lunch," said Prudence. 
"You want to feel happy again ...  don't you Donna?" she urged.

   "Yes," whispered Donna, looking down.

   Prudence turned to Bobby.  "Be nice to Donna Bobby.  She needs to feel
happy.  Will you help her feel happy Bobby?" she asked.  He nodded soberly,
and not knowing what else to do, Prudence turned and went into the kitchen.
There was no doorway, so she started banging around pots and pans, to make
it sound like she was busy.

   Bobby had admired Donna's lush figure often.  At his age, and
considering the frequency with which he saw naked women and got to love
them, it was almost impossible for him not to wonder about what Donna's
body looked like under her clothing.  She had never approached him for sex,
and he accepted that.  Lots of other women in town spoke to him but didn't
approach him for sex too, so he had not attempted to initiate anything with
Donna.  His lack of understanding of the mores of society, as they
concerned a young male and numerous older females though, didn't stop him
from wondering what it would be like with her.

   Bobby assumed that Donna had, at last, made the overture he was quite
willing to respond to.

   Donna looked at him, suddenly unable to meet and keep his gaze.  Her
eyes darted away.  Part of her couldn't believe she had said she wanted to
enter this kind of relationship with him, but part of her thought it just
might have found an outlet for her nervous energy.  Still, she didn't know
what to do.  Walter had always come to her and flirted with her, and wooed
her, suggesting that they have some fun.  She had rarely initiated any
sexual activity with him, and didn't know how to begin.

   Once again, the routine Bobby had gotten into came into play.  He was
used to getting things going by disrobing the women.  He stood, and stepped
toward her.  His penis, which had softened while the two women talked, had
begun to refill with blood, in anticipation of being with Donna.  It hung,
not quite straight out, but rising by the moment.  Her eyes went to that
organ and watched it bob as he stepped toward her.  She was frozen, like a
rabbit that cowers behind a bush, hoping the wolf will stalk on by.

   The heat in her chest grew, making her whole body feel hot.  Her clothes
felt heavy and itchy.  She was astonished at herself as feelings of lust
attacked her with unrelenting insistence that she deserved to experience
that strong young penis, just as much as Prudence did.  Part of her
emotional upheaval as she stood there, was based on anger that her friend
had kept this for herself, instead of sharing it with her.  She somehow
forgot completely that she was shocked by her friend's actions of doing
something with Bobby in the first place.

   When Bobby stood before her, and ducked his head to make her eyes meet
his, she took a shuddering breath.

   "I can't," she said weakly.

   Bobby had heard this too, and in his experience, all that meant was that
he was supposed to do things that would make her say "OK, now I can!" He
took her hands, and pulled her up.  He clasped her cheeks between his
hands, and leaned in for an exploratory kiss.  Her lips didn't return that
kiss at first, but the moan that she exhaled told him to do it again, this
time more forcefully, mashing his lips to hers.  His tongut slipped out and
she felt shock at that.  No one had ever kissed her this way.  It was so
much more ...  intimate ...  than she'd ever been kissed before.

   She felt his arms around her and that strong embrace, more than anything
else, broke her frozen posture.  That embrace brought back the feel of
Walter's embrace, which she had liked so much.  Her own hands fluttered to
his back, and she felt his wimpled skin.  She had seen those scars as he
was dressed for bed, and her touch was light.

   He pulled her toward the bed ...  Prudence's bed ...  where only moments
before Prudence had lain ...  naked ...  with this man.  He felt like a man
now, and thoughts of him as a boy vanished in his strong embrace.  Still
... that bed was frightening.  She resisted, her mind telling her this
couldn't be happening, but his insistent pull made her take another step
and then another.  His hands cupped her breasts through her dress and she
shuddered.  No one had touched them in years.  The tingles she felt made
her gasp.

   He kissed her neck and she shivered again.  Then he backed up and his
fingers went to the closings of her dress.  She stood limply, letting him
make her naked as her mind still railed that this was crazy.  But his hands
on her naked skin blew those thoughts out of her mind.  She could no longer
think about Prudence in the next room, or whether this was right or wrong
as the passion exploded in her loins and he lay her back on the bed.

   Her last shred of resistance blew away on the winds of her passion as he
put his mouth on her aching nipples and insistently pushed at her so
long-unused sexual opening, and slowly penetrated her.  It felt like he
went in forever and, as his hairs mingled with hers, he kissed her again.

   Her knees jerked up reflexively and he ground against her.  Donna's
initial response was to just go limp as she was overwhelmed by memories and
physical feelings.  Her muscles turned to jelly, and she lay there
luxuriating in the feel of a hard bone in her pussy after so long without
one.  She lay limp, just concentrating on the feel of what she was
experiencing deep inside her.  It was when she realized just HOW deep
inside her she felt those things that she realized how different Bobby's
prick was than that of her aged husband before he died.  Bobby touched in
places she'd never been touched before ...  ever.  When his prick tried to
push its way through her cervix she didn't feel pain, like the other women
did.  Her cervix had passed a baby through it, and something inside her was
ready to do that again.  Her cervix welcomed that intruder and opened for
it as the tip slid into the small hole.

   She gasped as he withdrew almost all the way out of her and then, every
so slowly, slid back in.

   Then her muscles awoke, first among them her lungs, as she grunted as
her cervix was penetrated again.  Her arms came up and wrapped around her
lover now, and her head strained to lift so she could see with her own eyes
where they were joined.  She pushed his chest away from her breasts and he
straightened his arms, looking at her curiously.

   "I want to see" she panted, looking.

   He drew out for her, that long hard thing that she quite suddenly
realized she was going to want to feel in her again.  Her legs came up
then, wrapping around his as she pulled him back into her.  She couldn't
tell when it happened, but somehow he was suddenly slicking in and out of
her rapidly and smoothly.  She was so wet that she made horrible noises
where they were joined, but she didn't care.  That was because she felt the
orgasm approaching that she thought she might never have again.  It hit her
and she welcomed it, relishing in the feel of something so long gone in her
life.  He kept going and she realized he wasn't going to stop as quickly as
Walter had.  That thought made her think that, impossibly, she might be
able to feel that gorgeous feeling one more time before it was all over and
she had to stop doing this.

   "Uhhhhhhh" she moaned as she reached for it and found it, tugging it
along and pulling at his hips.  Somehow he knew to push in and stay there,
where it felt soooo good.  Her pussy clenched and released during her cum.
With shock she heard his grunt and felt heat deep inside her.  She knew
that feeling, but not in the amounts he was supplying and again she was
shocked at how different he was from her departed husband.  Bobby held
still as his prick continued to spurt into her, and he leaned down to taste
her lips, his favorite thing to do as his penis delivered its cargo.  Now
she gave him her tongue back as, frozen together, their muscles began to
relax, more and more, until he lay fully upon her, their lips still crushed
together.  Her hands went to his hair and she pulled his face even harder to
her.

   "I told you he'd make you happy," came Prudence's quiet voice, only a
foot away.

   Donna's eyes flew open and she broke the kiss, turning her head.

   "You said you'd stay in the kitchen!" she gasped.

   "I know, but I couldn't help it.  I had to see what it looked like when
he makes me feel that way," said Prudence.  "I'm sorry."

   Donna exhaled, not feeling the shame she expected to feel.  "I saw you,"
she said.  "I guess I can't complain."

   "Thank you," said Prudence, turning away, going back to the kitchen. 
"It was beautiful." As she went into the doorway her head turned, and over
her shoulder she said "He isn't finished yet.  Not unless you want him to
be."

   Donna looked up at Bobby, who was smiling down at her, his liquid brown
eyes staring deep inside her.

   He began to move again, and she felt an unaccountable joy welling up in
her as she realized that, indeed, he wasn't finished.

   She experienced that unaccountable joy for the next three Saturdays, as
she visited Prudence's house, and they shared Bobby's love together.

   CHAPTER THIRTEEN

   On the seventh of June, there was a field trip for everyone in Milleson
House.  The women made up a picnic lunch and took it to the train station
to support Donna as she anxiously waited for the train that was bringing
her only son back home to her.

   Mavis had a moment of deja vu as she saw the smoke from the locomotive
on the horizon, though she couldn't hear the zinging of the tracks this
time due to the large crowd on hand.  Most of the town was there, because
this train would have a lot of soldiers on it.  There were no less than
thirty-two men who fought in the war, and came from Hampstead, Nebraska.

   Rachel was even there, embarrassed as she was about the now noticeable
swell of her belly, that had announced to the town that she had been
indiscrete.  Some people thought that perhaps her rapist got much farther
with her than she had admitted.  Others thought not, and that one of the
married men had dallied with her, though there was no evidence of that. 
While there were no known suspects, an awful lot of women kept an eye on
their husbands that day, watching to see if there was anything that looked
like guilty communication between the harlot and their man.  Her welcome,
and the warm thoughts of most of the townspeople toward her after the
attack, suffered greatly when it became known she was with child.

   But Meg and Sally had insisted that she come, and they protected her
from the snorts of the women by simply proclaiming that they were jealous.
Rachel hadn't admitted anything to anyone at all, but knowing that Bobby
went to her house twice a week, and knowing Bobby, they had their
suspicions.

   Finally the train came into view, far down the tracks.  The five piece
band, made up of a battered tuba, a bugle, a drummer, a clarinet and a
fiddle, struck up a cacophony that was energetic, if not in tune, playing
"Over There" to the best of their ability.  They were playing it for the
fifth time when the train groaned to a hissing halt and the doors opened.

   There was a hush of the crowd, and men, blinking in the bright sunlight,
began stepping out of the coaches.

   Bedlam ensued.

   Two hundred and thirteen mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters and other
relatives, as well as neighbors, roared their approval, drowning out the
poor band, which finally gave up because they couldn't hear themselves
playing.  There was a surge and the men were surrounded, beaten half to
death by well meaning slaps on the back and hugs that crushed them.  Men
were hugged and kissed by women they didn't know, or weren't related to. 
All the hoarded excitement of VE day was brought back and burst from those
people and saturated the soldiers.

   Donna, who had seen a man she thought might be Wally, struggled through
the crowd, using her elbows like they were weapons, until she stood facing
a tall, thin man, now almost twenty-two years old, who looked enough like
her seventeen year old little boy that she was sure it was him, but who was
a stranger as well.

   "Wally?" she said, her voice high and strained.

   "Hi Mama," he said with a toothy grin.

   Then he couldn't move because he had his mother wrapped around him like
a boa constrictor.  When she was finally pried off of him there was a stain
where her tears had wet his shoulder.  Then he got hugs from women he had
known existed, but had never actually paid any attention to, as Meg,
Prudence, Sally and Mavis all took their turns with more gentle and polite
hugs, but smiles just as big as his.  Donna babbled, trying to introduce
them all.  Rachel stayed back with the children, who, at the uproar, had
huddled around her instinctively, looking around in wonder and not a little
fear.

   Things calmed down a little bit and Wally looked around, spotting the
two men he loved more than any other in the world, possibly more than even
his own father's memory.  They were both standing awkwardly, talking to
complete strangers nearby.  He waved at them and they shuffled toward him,
nodding and thanking the people who had welcomed them, even though they'd
never been in this town in their lives.

   "Ma" said Wally, as the two men arrived in the little group.  "This is
Ralph Carter" he gripped the arm of the taller man, who had very dark hair
and a scar across one cheek, "And this poor excuse for a human being is
Jimmy Franklin." Jimmy was shorter than both Ralph and Wally, appeared
older and had blond hair.  "Ralph here saved my life when we went ashore on
Omaha beach in France.  All three of us have been together ever since."

   Donna looked at Ralph, who was obviously embarrassed to be the center of
attention.  She moved to him, took his face in her hands and, oblivious of
the fact that he was almost the same age as her son, kissed him firmly on
the lips.  When she pulled back, he had a dazed look on his face, and
licked his lips.

   "Thank you," said Donna with great dignity.

   Ralph swallowed visibly.  "Ma'am" he drawled with a southern accent. 
"You are most certainly welcome."

   Then it was off to the picnic.  When Donna apologized for all the
children being dragged along both Ralph and the soft spoken Jimmy said that
it was one of the nicest things that had happened to them since they got
back.

   The women of Milleson House had no designs on the soldiers.  They were
there just as a show of support for the returning heroes and for Donna's
sake.  They tended the children, feeding them and tried to keep them out of
Donna's hair so she could talk to her son and his friends.

   The men, however, were quite interested in those women.  They had been
gone for almost four years and the women they had seen, as Jimmy would
later describe them, were "beaten down, starved, and would do anything in
the world for a bar of chocolate." The men had felt sorry for them, but in
most cases the women didn't speak English either, and just didn't appeal to
them in a blatantly sexual way.  Besides that, the unit they were in was on
the move constantly as the battles progressed and Germany was penetrated.

   Now, though, on a warm June afternoon, back in America, the vibrancy of
these women electrified all three lonesome soldiers.  It was easy for Donna
to see as she plied them with questions.

   The first thing she learned was that after their 30 day leave, which
everyone in the whole company had been compelled to take, they would ship
out to the Pacific Theater of Operations.  They boasted that they would do
in Japan what they had done in Germany.  Donna was shocked by the
seriousness they showed when they talked about that.  During those moments
they were grim men, despite their youthful appearance.

   Ralph was only a year older than Wally and from Texas.  He had been
notified that his parents had died of tuberculosis while he was overseas.
His sister and her husband were holding down the fort in Brownsville and he
wanted to get home for a few days before they got shipped out again if he
could figure out a way to get there.

   Jimmy was twenty three and an orphan.  When Donna heard that her eyes
got round and she excitedly explained about Milleson House.  She pointed
out Bobby as their oldest and newest charge and described how he had showed
up.  Without another word Jimmy got up and went to talk to Bobby, even
before Donna could explain that Bobby couldn't talk.

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

   Meg and Bobby were feeding children sandwiches and cole slaw when Meg
saw the shortest of the three men who had gotten off the train together
walking towards her.  His eyes were on Bobby, and she wondered what was
happening.  When he arrived he stood, casting his shadow on Bobby, who
looked up, his head turned.

   "Miz Pratt says you ain't got parents," he said abruptly.  Then he
smiled, his teeth white against his face.  "Me neither.  Joined the Army
when I turned seventeen just to get out of the place they had me in." He
stuck out his hand.

   Bobby almost spoke.  He took in the breath, and his unused vocal chords
vibrated as he tried to introduce himself.  He clamped it off in a panic,
and all that came out was a guttural rasp.  His hand, which had been rising
to meet Jimmy's faltered and fell back in his lap as he darted a glance at
Meg to see what she would do at the sound he had made.

   Meg looked up.  "Bobby can't talk.  There's something wrong, and we
don't know what it is," she said.

   Jimmy looked startled, and sat down.  "'S Okay" he said, holding out his
hand again.  "We're still brothers, you 'n me, far's I'm concerned."

   Bobby grinned and shook the offered hand vigorously.

   "Bobby's doing fine," said Meg, smiling at him.  "He's even employed. 
He carves wood.  He's doing very well indeed.  We try to take good care of
him." She pinked up just a little at that last statement as she thought
about just HOW they took such good care of him.

   Jimmy scratched his head.  "I imagine I'd be doing just fine too if I
had a bunch of beautiful women taking care of me." He grinned to show he
had no salacious thoughts.  He was pretty good at covering for the fact
that his thoughts were all salacious at that point in the conversation. 
Meg was a good looking woman, with fine thrusting breasts, and no ring on
her hand to show she was taken.  She was, perhaps, an inch taller than
Jimmy, but that didn't matter to him in the least.  "I never would have
tried to run away if there had been ladies like you around," he added.

   Meg responded the way any other woman would have responded in that
situation.  She was pleased.  But, like any other woman, she didn't want to
APPEAR pleased.  Not blatantly anyway.

   "Why mister ...  why I don't even know your name!" she said, with a
little giggle.

   "Jimmy Franklin, ma'am, at your service," he said, extending his hand to
her too.  He looked over at Bobby.  "You ain't claimed her yet have you?"
he joked.  "Wouldn't want to horn in on a brother."

   Bobby blinked.  While he was adept at some adult actions, at least in
the bedroom and with tools in his hands, he had no social basis on which to
draw in this situation.  Had he had time to think about things, he might
have figured it out, but Meg's outburst shattered his concentration.

   "Why Mister Franklin, you are embarrassing me!  I don't believe I've met
such a forward man in my entire life!" Her response was based on mixed
emotions.  Her first thought was to protect Bobby.  She was quite sure that
no one outside Milleson House would understand or appreciate her
relationship with him.  By now she knew she was pregnant as well ...  had
lost the flat plane that used to be her abdomen in fact.  When she was
dressed that slight bulge wasn't noticeable yet, and she'd let out her
dresses to camouflage that rounded belly, trying to delay the inevitable
scorn that would be sent her way as soon as the townspeople knew her
condition.  At the same time she was flattered at attention from a grown
man, and she wasn't prepared to deal with that eventuality.  She hadn't
spent much time thinking about normal relationships, because they had
seemed so far away.  She can't be blamed for the fact that the men, like
Jimmy, who would normally have pursued her, were all off at war.  What
complicated things was her urge to dismiss him forthwith, avoiding the
inevitable disgust he'd reveal when he found out she was with child ... 
while at the same time craving his attention.

   Jimmy looked back at her with a very frank ...  and very adult
appraisal. "Ma'am, it would hurt me to my very bones to cause you pain.  I
shall withdraw if that would ease your concern."

   His sudden change to dignified ...  and surprisingly educated speech,
threw Meg another curve ball.  It so startled her that, instead of
accepting his offer to withdraw, she blurted: "You needn't withdraw, sir
... merely behave." It came out as a mild admonishment, rather than the
dismissal she knew was for the best.

   Jimmy, unable to behave on the instant, grinned and said "I'll behave if
it will let me stay near to you, that's for sure." Then he blinked.  "I
don't imagine it would be too forward to ask your name ...  would it?"

   Now Meg blushed again.  "I'm sorry.  Where are my manners?  Meg.  Meg
Johnson.  Happy to meet you mister Franklin," she said.

   "I'd be tickled if you'd just call me Jimmy," he said.  Then, throwing
her yet another loop, he turned back to Bobby.  "So, iff'n you can't talk,
how the heck do you get by?"

   Bobby whipped out a sheet of paper from his pocket, along with his
pencil stub, and scribbled quickly.  Meg heard squabbling and saw that
Patrick and Jerry were arguing over the last sandwich.  She went to resolve
the matter.  When she looked back, Jimmy and Bobby had their heads
together, and Bobby was writing more.

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

   When Donna saw where Jimmy had gone, even though she couldn't hear the
conversation, she saw him stick out his hand and eventually get it shaken.
She turned back to her son and his remaining friend.

   "Well, with Meg right there I doubt we'll be seeing much of him for a
while," she said, half joking.

   Wally laughed.  "I remember her, but not like that."

   Donna turned to Ralph.  "And what about you?  A handsome man like
yourself must have a girl somewhere, right?"

   Ralph looked morose.  "There was a girl back home, but she got married
while I was gone." His eyes drifted to Prudence, who was playing catch with
Terrence.

   Donna saw where he was looking and her lips thinned.  "I don't think
she's the one for you," she said.  "Her husband was over there with you
boys and he dumped her for some French tart.  He even sent her divorce
papers.  I don't imagine she's got much patience with soldiers right now."

   "Man must be off his feed to abandon a woman like that," said Ralph,
half under his breath.  Like other men, he let his eyes drift across Sally,
but not light on her.

   Donna nodded.  She wanted to talk to Wally some more, so she tossed off
something to get off the subject.  "Well, I'm sure there will be a dance in
honor of your return.  You could ask her to it, but don't be surprised if
she throws something at you." Then she turned back to her son and began
peppering him with questions about where he'd been, and what he'd seen, and
how he was and so on.

   Unnoticed by either his best friend, or his best friend's mother, Ralph
stood up to take a walk.  His walk took him vaguely in the direction of one
Mrs.  Prudence Watson, soon to be divorced.

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

   The object of Ralph's interest missed a wild throw of the balled up sock
that the children often played catch with.  It had been made heavier by
rolling three more socks up inside and then folding the outside sock down,
twisting it and folding it over the lump again.  What resulted was between
the size of a hardball and softball, and if it hit you it didn't hurt.  She
twisted, reaching as the "ball" sailed over her head and to the left, and
saw the sock caught by one of the soldiers who was with Donna's son.  She
saw it was the tall one, with the scar on his cheek.  He held the sock out
to her.

   "Thank you," she said, somewhat stiffly.  What she saw most was his
uniform ...  the same uniform her husband had been wearing when he left
her.

   "Ma'am?" came the man's deep voice ...  much deeper than George's voice.
She looked up again.  "I just wanted to say how sorry I am about how things
turned out for you."

   "What?" asked Prudence, astonished.

   "Wally's mom explained what happened with your husband and all, and I
just wanted you to know that not all of us behaved like that over there."

   Prudence was horrified that this strange man knew about her ... 
situation.  The first thing she thought of was the fistfuls of hair she was
going to pull out of Donna's head the first chance she got.  She was so mad
she sputtered, unable to say anything.

   Ralph held up his hands.  "Now don't get all riled up, Ma'am.  I'll
leave you in peace.  I just wanted you to know that hard as things was over
there, a man would have to be plumb loco to abandon a woman like you. 
That's all.  I just wanted to say that."

   Ralph Carter was not a sophisticated man.  He was from a culture where a
man said what he meant, and meant what he said.  Most times, whatever it
was that was said wasn't held against a man either, as far as that went,
whether people agreed with him or not.  He, too, had left home when he was
young, being eighteen on the seventh of December, 1941, and since then his
world had been that of men.  He didn't put on airs, and what he had done to
save Wally's life he would have done for any other man.  He didn't know how
to talk to a woman, especially a woman as beautiful as he thought Prudence
Watson was.  So, having said his piece, he turned around and walked back
towards his friend.

   Prudence sat, dumbstruck.  The man had paid her a compliment, strange as
it might have been.  And then he had just walked away from her.  As mad as
she was at Donna, something in her wished that the man had stayed a little
longer.  Then she decided that she would just have yelled at him, and
something in her was glad he HADN'T stayed, and that she HADN'T had the
opportunity to heap all her scorn on him.

   "PRU!"

   Her concentration was fragmented by Terrence's insistent call for her to
throw him the sock again.

   This time she was the one who threw wildly.

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

   Wally answered all his mother's questions as his eyes roved over the
scene, drinking in the normality of it.  Battle had been terrifying, and he
had almost broken under the strain, like many other men.  Seeing his
friends die had hardened him in some ways, and had made him reflect often
on the meaning of life.  As his mother peppered him with questions, his
eyes lit on the blond woman who was reading a book to a group of smaller
children.  She sat awkwardly, her legs folded under her and to one side. 
She was obviously pregnant and, like many pregnant women, she was beautiful
in a way that tugged at a man's heart.

   Unknown to his mother, Wally was not a virgin.  While he had been in
temporary billets, waiting for his troopship, certain that he was going off
to die, he had taken a walk in the biggest city he'd ever seen in his life.
He'd been approached by a whore, offering him something he'd never had
before.  She too had been pregnant, though not so much as the woman he was
looking at now.  His first impulse had been to scorn the whore, but as he
looked through the dirt on her unwashed face, he saw a girl, about his own
age, down on her luck.  He had wanted to just give her some money, but she
insisted that the man watching them would beat her if she didn't perform
for her "fee", and he had allowed her to take him to a dingy room, where
she initiated him into the ways of being a man.  He couldn't look at her as
anything other than the poor girl she was as, bit by bit he pulled her
story from her.  Then she had sat atop him, riding him to a release that he
could still remember if he closed his eyes, and it was quiet.  He could
still see the swell of the child some other man had put into her, that soft
white curve of her belly, riding right on top of what felt so amazing to
him.

   Now, as he stared at the blond woman, her image was superimposed on the
thin face, with the dank, oily hair, of the girl who had taken his
virginity.  He flushed and felt guilty.

   Donna saw consternation in her son's face and looked to see what was
troubling him.  He was looking at Rachel.  She frowned.

   "She's the school teacher.  A man tried to rape her.  She's not married.
Things are ...  difficult for her now," she said.

   Wally looked at his mother.  "Tried ...  to rape her?" he asked.

   Donna signed.  "Bobby, the boy your friend Jimmy is talking to, stopped
it.  Or at least we thought he stopped it.  He hit the rapist on the head
and killed him.  She's always claimed that the man didn't finish the rape.
Events suggest otherwise, though," she finished.  Donna, like many others
in Milleson House, was fairly sure that Bobby had something to do with that
swollen belly, but she wasn't going to pursue that.  Especially not,
considering what role Bobby played in her own life.

   "She's beautiful," said Wally.

   "She's a sweet girl," said his mother.

   "Really?" asked Wally.

   "She's a sweet ...  pregnant girl," cautioned his mother.

   "I can see that mother," said the young man.

   "There are a lot of sweet un-pregnant girls out there to dear," said
Donna.

   "True," said her son, who was suddenly much more independent than his
mother remembered ...  or appreciated right now.  "But I bet there aren't a
whole lot of them un-pregnant who are that good looking."

   "Wally," asked Donna, curious now, "Why would you even be interested in
a woman who is already pregnant with another man's child?"

   Wally blinked, like he hadn't been actually paying attention to their
conversation.

   "I don't know," he said truthfully.  "I guess it just doesn't matter if
she's not married and interested in me.  I just like the way she is sitting
there with the kids.  She looks like a mother and I think mothers are kind
of sexy."

   Donna arched an eyebrow.  "Really?" she asked.

   Wally looked at his mother calmly.  "Look at you.  You're a mother and
you're sexy."

   "Wally!" said Donna, blushing.  "That's a completely inappropriate thing
to say to your mother!"

   "Hey, the truth is the truth," he said, looking back at Rachel.  "I
think I'm going to go introduce myself."

   Donna stared at him, unbelieving as he rose and sauntered toward the
group of children, being read to by their teacher.

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

   Rachel saw the soldier coming, but didn't pay much attention to him. 
She was concentrating on trying to read like Meg read, using different
voices, and inflection that made the story come alive.  The children
ignored the soldier too, their full attention on the story.

   "...  and they lived happily ever after," pronounced Rachel at the end.
The children called for more stories, but Rachel told them to run and play
in the warm air.  "You'll get all fat like me if you sit around all the
time," she said.  She put the book down on the blanket and leaned back to
stretch her back, putting her legs out in front of her.  It was then that
she realized the soldier was still standing a few feet away.  He had
obviously been listening to her read.

   "You're a fine story teller Ma'am," he said.

   "Thank you," she said, aware of her bulging belly.  "You should hear Meg
read to them though.  She's fabulous."

   "I haven't heard that story since I was their age," said Wally.  "Who
would have thought that a grown man would enjoy listening to a children's
tale?  I'm Wally," he said.  "Mind if I sit down?"

   Rachel wasn't exactly afraid of strangers.  She knew that when that man
had attacked her, it was an aberration.  Still, she was startled, and a
little nervous.  Why would this man want to talk to her?  No one else in
town did, with the exception of the women at Milleson House.

   "It's a free country," she said.  It suddenly occurred to her how banal
that sounded.  "Of course, we have you to thank for that," she added,
feeling foolish.

   Wally settled in beside her on the blanket.  "Somebody had to do it," he
said casually.  "So you're the teacher.  I went to school here, and the
teacher didn't look anything like you."

   Rachel looked at the young man strangely.  If she didn't know better
she'd have thought he was flirting with her.  Maybe he was making fun of
her.  She knew men had the capacity to be unbelievably cruel.  She didn't
want to think that Donna's son was that way, but she decided to find out.

   "I'm sure your teacher was married and probably not ...  with child,"
she said evenly.

   Wally looked up at the clouds.  "True, but I was thinking more of how
gray her hair was, and how bony she was, and how she frowned all the time.
She was pretty free with that ruler of hers too.  I imagine I'd be a lot
smarter today if she'd have been a beautiful young woman such as yourself."
He pointed at a grouping of clouds, changing the subject suddenly.  "Hey,
there's one that looks like a Sherman tank!"

   Rachel didn't know what to think.  The young man had paid her an obvious
compliment, almost a forward one.  It was as if he were blind to the
evidence that she was a slut.  Rachel was not unhappy that she carried
Bobby's baby in her womb.  What he had done for her deserved recognition of
the highest order, and as far as she was concerned, having his child was
that kind of highest recognition.  What she was unhappy about was the way
she was treated.  She couldn't tell people why she'd done what she'd done.
If she did that they'd treat Bobby the same way, maybe even worse.  As a
result, they all just assumed she was a slut.  But this man didn't seem to
see the negative.

   "Thank you," she said belatedly.  Then "I'm not sure I know what a
Patton tank looks like."

   So Wally pointed out the cloud mass he was referring to, and then to
another that looked like a dog.  That caused Rachel to want to talk about
Bobby's carvings of dogs.  On impulse she called to Bobby, who was not far
away, being ridden like a horse by Patrick, next to one of the other
soldiers, who was providing the same service to June Bug.  there was a line
of children chasing both "horses", waiting for their turn to ride.  Bobby
trundled over towards her, crawling quickly and jostling Patrick, who
screamed and yelled like a cowboy.

   "Bobby, do you have one of your carvings with you today?" asked Rachel.

   Bobby reared, trying to buck off Patrick, who clung to his throat and
laughed.  Reaching into his pocket Bobby took out a small carving he had
been working on with his knife.  He still liked to whittle and carve that
way, though he spent most of his free time working on larger projects.  He
handed it to Rachel, who handed it to Wally.

   It was a cat, curled up and sleeping, its tail wrapped around it.  It
was almost finished.  It was made out of cherry wood, and was so finely
carved you felt like you could see the individual hairs on its back.

   "Wow!" said Wally with appreciation.  He looked at Rachel, who was still
looking at Bobby.  He saw love in her face for the boy.  His mother had
said this boy saved her from the rape, or that people had thought he had
saved her.  "Is this for sale?" he asked, looking up at Bobby.

   Bobby shook his head.  Carvings like this were being saved to be given
away as gifts.  He wanted to make sure he had enough for all the women in
the house, and Rachel, before he gave one to anybody.

   "It should be," suggested Wally, handing it back to Bobby.  "It's the
kind of thing that would make a perfect gift for somebody like this pretty
lady here."

   Rachel suddenly realized she'd never introduced herself.  She bit her
lip, though, ambivalent about encouraging this strange young man.

   "Thank you Bobby," she said.  He turned, and was set upon by Jenny who,
at ten years of age, had long enough legs that they dragged the ground when
she mounted her steed.  She didn't care, though, and slapped his butt with
her hand, yelling "giddy up horsy".  Bobby bucked a little and then plodded
off as she slapped at his butt again, yelling for him to go faster.

   "Nice kid," said Wally, on a hunch.

   "He's wonderful," said Rachel with more feeling than she realized.

   Wally could understand how being saved from rape would endear a woman to
a boy ...  no, man, like that.  Bobby appeared to be of an age where he was
eligible for service.

   "My mom said he can't talk," said Wally.

   "Yes" said Rachel, still watching Bobby frolic with the children.  "It's
very sad.  He's very smart.  He can read as well as I can almost."

   "How would you know?" asked Wally.

   She said "I spend a lot of extra time with him, and he writes me notes."
She turned back to Wally, feeling like she was being interrogated.  "He's
not eligible for service."

   "Oh, I know," said Wally, looking back up at the sky.  "My mom told me
what happened.  I'm sorry you had to go through that."

   "You don't even know me," said Rachel.  "Why would you care?"

   "Oh, I don't know.  Maybe you look like somebody I'd like to get to
know. Then would it be all right if I cared?"

   Rachel was embarrassed.  This man had been nothing but civil to her, and
she was treating him badly.

   "It's just that most people don't ...  approve ...  they don't want to
get to know me," she said.

   "I'm not like most people," he said, looking over at her.  "Would it be
all right if I called on you?"

   Rachel felt flustered.  This was so outside her expectations she was at
a loss.  The girl in her said "Yes, that would be all right." Then she
added.  "I don't imagine your mother would be impressed, though."

   "My mother is a nice woman, almost as beautiful as you are," he said. 
"I'm going to spend some time with her too." He grinned.  "But I can't hope
for holding her hand, or maybe stealing a kiss from her.  People would
REALLY be in an uproar if I did that.  Being seen with you won't be nearly
so controversial."

   Rachel felt a flush of warmth in her chest.  "You, mister Pratt, are a
very forward man."

   Wally smiled, and looked at her pregnant abdomen.  "I think we have more
in common than you might realize," he said.  "I'm not concerned with your
past, other than to wish that it had been happier.  And I'm not concerned
about what people think who haven't been where I've been, or seen what I've
seen.  I'd just like to spend some time with you and see how things go. 
Maybe I'll get that kiss, and maybe not.  But spending time with you will
be fun even if all I get is a slap in the face."

   It was the kind of speech a woman in Rachel's situation would dream to
hear, and her heart fluttered in her chest.  Wally gave her a relaxed
salute and got up.

   "Now I'd better go spend some time with that other beautiful woman I
mentioned, or I might not get any supper.  He grinned and trod off towards
Donna, who had joined Mavis in cleaning up the ruin left by hungry, but
distracted children.

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

   The rest of the afternoon passed pleasantly, and the men helped herd the
children back to Milleson House.  Wally spent most of his time with his
mother.  Both Jimmy and Ralph had been lassoed into being horses, and had
become favorites of the children.  Still, Jimmy seemed to be near Meg
frequently, and Ralph spent plenty of time in the vicinity of Prudence. 
When it was time to go the knees of their uniform pants were stained green.
Mavis ordered them to bring the pants to her and she would clean them.

   "Least I can do for you," she said firmly.

   "Sure thing ma'am" said Jimmy, looking at Meg.  "I'd like to see this
orphanage of yours anyhow.  From what I've seen it can't be anything like
the ones I was ever in."

   Mavis snorted.  "You might see the orphanage," she commented, "but I
doubt that's what you'll be looking at."

   Both Meg and Jimmy flushed.  But both smiled too.

   "I'll ride herd on him ma'am," drawled Ralph.

   Mavis arched her eyebrow at him.  "If you can tear yourself away from
other interests," she said, glancing at Prudence.  Prudence was suddenly
very busy looking elsewhere.  Ralph just smiled.

   On the way back to the orphanage, the children traded off riding on the
shoulders of Bobby and the three soldiers, who were already loaded down
with their kits.

   None of them complained.



   CHAPTER FOURTEEN

   That night at supper the mood was euphoric, with the possible exception
of Sally.  She had seen the same thing happen that day that always
happened. Men just weren't interested in her.  She tried hard to be happy
for Meg and Prudence, and she was pleasantly amazed at Wally's interest in
Rachel.  But her face was back to its normal unsmiling visage as she dealt
with supper.  She was distracted during the evening radio mystery, and was
still feeling sorry for herself when she opened the door to her room and
went in, wondering if she'd be able to get to sleep.

   Bobby was in her bed, and he was naked.  She'd forgotten completely that
it was Wednesday.

   He smiled at her and her heart melted.  She was blinded by tears of
mixed happiness and disgust with herself for feeling so alone.

   "Ohhh Bobby" she moaned, and she ran to the bed, flinging herself on top
of him and kissing him urgently.  They fumbled with her clothing, and she
was almost mad with desire by the time he got her dress off of her.  She
let him remove her panties and threw her legs wide in welcome.  Her groan
of satisfaction was loud as she sheathed his stiff prick deep in her belly.

   On this night Sally was, again, insatiable, as she drank in everything
Bobby had to offer her.  Finally she slept, entwined in his arms.

   Her smile was back.

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

   In another house, on a farm nearby, three weary fighting men bedded down
together in Wally's room.  Donna had offered them individual rooms, but
they delined.  They had slept together for years, in conditions much worse
than this, and neither Jimmy nor Ralph complained that his bed was on the
floor.  Donna provided blankets enough that one could be rolled up for a
pillow.  For the men it was, if not heaven, close enough for now.

   They talked in the dark, as men do on a campout, or hunting trip, and
the women were discussed in intimate detail that would have embarrassed
them had they known.  Breasts and hips were compared and judged better than
the other man's pick.  Wally got guff for being interested in a woman who
had obviously spread her legs for another man.  They didn't know about the
girl who'd taken his virginity.

   "She's beautiful, and intelligent," said Wally, who claimed his own bed
that first night, but offered to trade out in nights to come.  "And she was
raped, or almost raped.  Either way, she can have more babies in the
future. I'd sure like to see what one of mine would look like coming from
her."

   "That's just plain nuts," said Ralph.  "She's been ridden already,
pardner."

   "Well, maybe she's broke for riding, but the way I see it, that just
means she'll be more gentle," quipped Wally.  "At least I'll be able to
stay in the saddle." He grinned in the dark.

   "There is that," admitted Ralph.  "And I have to admit that Prudence has
been broke to ride too."

   "Right now I don't care if they're ALL pregnant," said Jimmy, completely
unaware of his prophetic comment.  "I ain't seen a woman like Meg in longer
than I can remember.  I'm hard as nails right now just thinking 'bout her."

   "Don't mess up my mamma's blankets" warned Wally, laughing.  "She'd have
my head."

   "Never you mind 'bout that, buddy," said Jimmy.  "I'm saving it up for
later."

   There was the usual joking banter about dreams they had about what might
happen, and of getting slapped for pursuing those dreams, and ending up
with blue balls as each man claimed that HE would be successful, but the
others would fail in their pursuit of their chosen women.

   All of them went to sleep with hardons before it was finished.

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

   Over the next three weeks the soldiers, perhaps because they were used
to pursuing their mission to the end, bitter or sweet, were relentless in
their pursuit of the women who had caught their eye.

   Wally visited the school first, and convinced Rachel to have dinner with
him at the restaurant in the saloon.  That caused a sensation, which they
both ignored.  She was nervous about letting him come to her house,
primarily because she was sure that tongues would wag.  When it occurred to
her that tongues were already wagging, and had been for months, she put her
attention on this amazing man and stopped caring.  He'd be gone in less
than a month, and she wanted to enjoy the facade of normality he brought to
her.

   By the time they'd known each other for a week, and he began wanting to
spend the afternoons with her, she felt compelled to talk to Bobby about
it. She explained that this man wanted to be with her during the times they
usually spent in bed, and asked him how he felt about that.

   "Do you like him?" he wrote.

   She nodded, a strange reversal of their usual roles.

   "Then you should spend time with him," wrote Bobby.

   Wally spent the first two weeks just talking, or listening to her read,
or walking with her, hand in hand.  He talked little about the war, but
talked much about the places he'd seen, and the people he'd met.

   Rachel was smitten.

   When, two weeks before he was to ship out, he calmly said "I'd sure like
to try for that kiss now Rachel."

   Still unbelieving, she let him kiss her.  His kiss was different than
Bobby's.  The stubble on his face was rough, and he tasted different.  But
his kisses were just as hot, and Rachel was just as horny as she was with
Bobby.

   A week before he left, he relived his one sexual escapade, as the skinny
girl's image was replaced forever by Rachel.  Blond, pale and round, she
rode his stiff prick until it bulged and spat her full of Pratt seed, his
hands caressing the bulge made by the life inside her.  He loved her, and
didn't care where the baby had come from.  He would love it too.

   Every day until he left, he tried to impress on her how much it meant to
him that she would grace him with her love.  And every day she fell more
and more under his spell as he held out to her more than she ever thought
she'd be offered.

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

   For Jimmy and Meg it was a much more easy-going relationship.  His light
heartedness, and the interest he showed in her were both welcome to a girl
who hadn't been on a date since before the war started.  They found it easy
to talk and Meg was giddy, except for the fact that she was pregnant, and
nobody knew it yet.  That bothered her a lot.  It bothered her so much she
asked Jimmy what he thought about Wally's interest in Rachel.

   "I don't know," he said, as they walked along the street.  She had
actually taken her days off for two weeks in a row, and had spent most of
each day with Jimmy.  They walked, her fingers loosely held in two of his.
"I mean if he likes her, and it doesn't bother him, then who am I to say
anything about it?"

   "But you wouldn't want to be seen with a pregnant woman," she said, her
hopes fading.

   "I never thought about it.  Why, are you pregnant too?" He grinned,
thinking he had made a joke.

   But her reaction to that wasn't to slap him, or laugh, or call him a
name.  She just walked on, and pulled her fingers from his.

   "Uh oh," said Jimmy, stopping.  "I said something bad, didn't I?"

   Meg held back her tears.  "You won't want to be seeing me any more, I
suppose."

   Jimmy's reaction to that was not what she expected.

   "What the heck is in the water 'round here?" he said.  "That Rachel girl
and now you too?  How the heck did this happen?"

   Meg, who knew exactly how it had happened, and who, up to now had
decided that she would raise Bobby's baby proudly, despite what she knew
would happen when people found out, got a little surly.

   "You know how it happened," she said.  "It happened the way every baby
gets made.

   "But I thought you didn't have a man friend," said Jimmy helplessly.

   "I don't," she said.  "And I'm not telling anyone who made this baby in
me either!" she said hotly.  "This was a special situation, and I can't
talk about it ...  won't talk about it."

   "Hey," he said, holding up his hands.  "Don't be all mad at me.  I
didn't do it."

   "No, but you COULD have!" she cried.  She rubbed her fists into her
eyes, forcing herself to stop crying by will alone.  She was not going to
break down in front of this man.  "If only I'd have met you before.  It
could have been you!  But you were off in that stupid war, instead of here,
making me happy.  So somebody ELSE had to make me happy!" She was on a roll
now, but Jimmy let it all roll off of him.  Her comments suggested she was
more interested in him than she had let on.  He let her finish, and she
stood there, quivering.

   "OK" he said calmly.  "You got that off your chest?  I thought we were
on a walk here." He reached for her hand and started walking.  He had to
pull to get her moving.

   "Some day I have to hear the story of how this happened.  You're no
tramp.  Believe me, I know a tramp when I see one.  So I'll take it on your
word that something important happened, and the guy can't take credit for
it.  Maybe that's what happened to Miss Rachel too."

   "But you don't hate me?" whined Meg.

   "Meg, I got to confess that I been tryin' to get under your skirts ever
since I saw you.  Now that don't make me any better or worse than the man
that got there first.  Least that's the way I see it.  Hell, I never had a
girlfriend who was pretty and smart.  I kind of thought I'd like to try
that for a while."

   They walked on for a while, quietly.

   "How can you be interested in a fallen woman?" she asked finally.

   He looked at her.  "One way of lookin' at things is that, if I should
happen to get lucky enough to get under your skirts ...  I shore won't be
able to knock you up all accidental like."

   "That's a bit crude," said Meg, pulling at her hand.  He held on
tightly.

   "Another way of lookin' at things is that anybody can make a mistake,
but that don't mean they have to be punished more than yore labor pains are
goin' to punish you later on."

   He stopped and faced her, taking her other hand too.

   "I like you Meg.  I like you a lot.  It was strange circumstances that
brought us together here, and I suppose it's strange circumstances that
happened before I got here.  But if you don't plan on taking up with the
father of what's inside you, then I'd kind of like to have somebody to come
back to when this war is over."

   "You'd come back to me?" she squeaked.

   "Wally's offered both Ralph and me room and board for helping him work
the farm after the war.  When things get goin' we'll even get some pay. 
Maybe some day I'll have a place of my own.  Here's as good a place as any
to start a family.  If you think about it, I even got a head start on
that!" He grinned.  Then his face got serious.  "And no little baby should
be without a mamma AND a pappa.  I know what that's like, and it shouldn't
happen to anybody."

   Meg looked at his face.  He wasn't the handsomest man she'd ever seen,
and he wasn't as educated as some men she'd met.  She had noticed that his
speech got much better sometimes, like he was putting on a hick face, and
sometimes forgot to keep that up.  He was like Bobby, an orphan who made
his way in the world as best he could.  He intrigued her, and she liked him
too.

   "Have you ever been skinny dipping?" she asked him, turning to lead him
to the creek, where a wide turn held fairly deep water.

   As Jimmy would tell it later, to his two best friends, he found out what
had attracted Wally to a good looking pregnant woman.  When Meg dropped her
clothing on the bank of the creek, she stood proudly.  There was only a
gentle swell to her belly, making it round enough that what her clothes
hid, was plain to see when her soft abdomen was revealed.  He stopped his
description there, though, because what else he saw he wanted to keep just
to himself.

   He was only down to his pants when she stood naked before him, and it
stopped him cold.  He, like Bobby, had been housed in places where he never
got to see what a woman's body looked like.  He had told lies about being
with women, while he was in the Army, but Meg was the first woman he'd seen
like this.  Being older, and hearing the other men talk, he had a much
better grasp of the sex act than Bobby had.  But he was still a virgin, and
this woman was not.  He suddenly got cold feet.  What if he didn't do it
right?  What if he couldn't do it at all?  His prick, which had firmed up
nicely, began to wilt.  He didn't want to take his pants off.

   Meg stood and watched him, saying nothing.  Similar fears were going
through her mind.  What if he found her ugly, with her swollen belly?  What
if, after she had made herself naked in front of him, he didn't want her
any more?  Her proud shoulders drooped.  When he didn't move, she bent to
pick up her dress.

   "I understand," she said miserably.  "They were nice words, but ..."

   "NO!" he blurted.  "Wait ...  please.  It's just that ...  well, I'm
kind of ashamed to say this, but ...  well, I never done this before."

   "But ...  you said you wanted to ..." said Meg, confused now.

   "Oh hell, men lie about all kinds of stuff," he said.  When she winced
he held up his hands.  "NO!  I don't mean I was lying about that.  Not
about you.  Oh this isn't going good at all!" he said.  "What I mean is I
want to, but I don't know how.  I don't want to ..." He trailed off.

   Meg's hopes were rekindled.  "Fail?" she said.

   He hung his head.  "Yeah ...  fail."

   What she'd done with Bobby raced through her mind.  Bobby had made her
feel beautiful and desirable and loved.  She would always love Bobby for
who he was, and what they'd shared.  Now, here was another orphan who she
could experience things with ...  teach things.

   "You won't fail," she said, dropping her dress again, and stepping
toward him.  "I won't let you fail."

   She went to him and said "Let me." She knelt in front of him, working at
his pants until they gaped open.  She worked them down, pulling his drawers
down with them and baring his limp penis.  She was amazed at how similar it
looked to Bobby's, but how different it was too.  She looked up at him,
through her lashes.

   "It's quite handsome." She felt foolish.  "I've only seen one other, but
yours compares nicely." Then she felt even sillier, and blushed.

   Now Meg's inexperience came into play.  She wasn't aware that oral sex
wasn't widely known of or practiced in the 1940s.  She just did what she'd
done with Bobby.  Grasping his penis, she leaned forward and sucked it into
her mouth.  She'd brought Bobby's from this state to full rigidity, and she
knew how to do that.

   Jimmy had heard of this, but hadn't believed the men who claimed it was
the best thing since sliced bread.  He decided he owed them an apology. 
Within half a minute, he was, as he had characterized it, "hard as nails."

   Meg pulled of his now rampant prick.  "I like it better this way," she
said.  "Do you want to go swimming now?"

   "No ma'am, I do not," croaked the soldier.

   "Good," said Meg.  She sat him down on the grass and pulled the pants
off his feet, after unlacing his boots.  He lay back, staring at her as she
worked.

   "Meg, honey," he said.  "You have got the most beautiful breasts in the
whole world."

   "Thank you," she said, her confidence soaring.  "Would you like to taste
them?"

   "More than anything I can think of," he panted.

   Meg had learned from Bobby about being on top of him.  Sometimes he
liked her to be that way, and he played with her breasts when she rode him
like that.  She straddled Jimmy and, putting one hand on his chest,
squatted slowly, bringing her pussy down to meet the stiff prick she held
in her other hand.  She notched it, and sank gratefully down on it with a
sigh.

   Jimmy gasped as his prick was covered by heat.  Then she leaned forward
and dangled one of those fabulous breasts in his face.  He sucked at the
nipple, lifting his head, as she began to rock on him.

   Meg, used to being able to bring her orgasms almost on command now,
decided to have a quick one, just in case he got overexcited.  When it
happened, she told him it was happening, and she told him how happy he was
making her.  When her pussy rippled along his prick, he groaned and gave
Meg the only other seed she'd ever had in her body besides Bobby's.

   They lay together, catching their breath, and Meg kissed him for the
first time.  He laughed when the kiss was over.

   "I never figured to do what we just did before I ever kissed the girl,"
he said.

   "I really am a hussy," she said, but she didn't feel all that guilty any
more.

   He had to pee, and jumped up to go do that into a bush.  When he came
back she was looking at him with tears in her eyes.

   "You have scars too," she said.  "On your back."

   "That's over and done with," he said gruffly.  Then he was curious. 
"Scars like who?"

   "Bobby," she said shortly.  "He's got them all down his back, even on
his legs and rear.  It breaks my heart," she moaned.

   Jimmy thought about the fact that Meg knew what Bobby's naked backside
looked like.  That thought buzzed in his mind.  When would she have seen
that?  He knew the boy had been sent to Milleson House by mistake.  Mavis
had asked him about that.  And he'd only been at the orphanage a short
time. So, he was as fully grown when she saw him as he was now, for the
most part.

   He looked at Meg.

   "It was Bobby, wasn't it?"

   Meg covered her face with her hands and cried.

   Jimmy felt heat build in his chest, that threatened to burst out.  "Did
he force you?" he asked heavily.

   Meg's hands flew away from her face, shock showing there.  "Oh no!" she
said.  "I was just giving him a bath.  We didn't know how smart he was
then, and we thought he was simple minded.  And while I washed him ... 
things got kind of complicated," she ended.

   "But he didn't force you?" he asked again, the heat fading slowly.

   "No" she said.  "I'm a trollop ...  a hussy.  I seduced him," she
moaned. "He was so scarred up, and seemed so sweet.  He's never forced me
to do anything." Her memory of losing her maidenhead had altered over the
months.  Until recently - very recently - it was one of the high points of
her life.

   Jimmy reached over and smoothed his hand over Meg's humped abdomen.

   "So this is my little brother's baby in there?" he asked.

   She nodded, her eyes red.  "He's not really your brother," she sniffled.

   With very serious eyes, Jimmy said "We're all brothers and sisters, who
come from those places.  He's my brother all right.  We're family as far as
I'm concerned." He stroked her belly again, sliding his hand to her breast.

   "My brother's baby," he mused.  "I think I can live with that," he said,
leaning in for another kiss.

   This time Jimmy got on top of her, and, as he experienced sliding his
stiff cock in and out of a welcoming, loving woman for the first time in
his life, he asked her to be his bride.

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

   Prudence also had a lot on her mind as Ralph pursued her.  Like the
others, her cherished time with Bobby had become so important that she
hadn't paid as much attention to her cycle as she should have.  The result
was that, as of June the fifteenth, she was exactly two weeks overdue for
her "monthly trial" as she thought of it.  She had never been late in her
life.  Her suspicions, voiced to Donna three weeks earlier, had born out
true.  She was quite sure that she was pregnant.  She had always wanted to
be pregnant, but not quite this way.

   Now, she had been notified that her husband was seeking a divorce, and
she would probably have to find some other place to live.

   Ralph's attentions were unwelcome, since he was a soldier, but welcome,
since he was a nice man, who treated her with respect.  She actually liked
him a lot, even though she tried not to show it.  She didn't know what to
do, and she couldn't talk to anyone about it except Donna, who was busy
with her son.  Had she known that Meg was showing, and that Sally too had
missed two periods, she might have done things differently.

   But the truth of it was that she saw Ralph as a possible way out of her
predicament.  She would later confess to him what had happened, based on
true and deep love she felt for him then.  And, he would forgive her, but
she didn't know that now, of course.

   But for now, her motives were less than sterling.  She didn't feel good
about it, but she did what she thought she needed to do.  She accepted his
attention, and encouraged it.  She knew Donna would give her fits later,
but ...  that would be later.

   Within three weeks she felt terrible.  He really WAS a nice man, with a
quick wit who made her laugh.  He was a strong and dependable man too, from
what she could see.  He told her about Wally's offer of employment, and how
he dreamed of having a family.  He had saved almost all his Army pay, and
had a nest egg that would allow him to buy land, or perhaps start a
business when the war was over.

   As he showed her what a decent man he was, she felt worse and worse
about what she was hiding from him.  But she kept her mouth closed, and
continued with her plan.

   At the 4th of July picnic, she had no trouble at all succumbing to his
advances and she led him to her house, where they made wild, sweet love in
her bed.  She cried tears of shame, mixed with tears of joy.  Had she been
a less desperate woman, she might have broken under the strain.

   Three days later she kissed Ralph goodbye at the train station.  He
asked her to wait for him, and she said she would.

   To punish herself, she told Bobby that they could not make love any
longer ...  that she belonged to Ralph now.  She did not tell him that he
had made her pregnant.  She only felt worse when Bobby wrote her a note,
telling her how glad he was for her new found happiness.

   She had to tell Donna then what she was doing.  She couldn't bear to
have Bobby making love to Donna in her house any more.  Donna was disgusted
with her, and tried to talk her out of her deceit, but Prudence begged her
to leave it alone.  After that Bobby went to Donna's house on Saturdays.

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

   Mavis could feel the change in the mood of the house when the men
shipped off to war.  She understood the fear that the girls felt.  Meg had
announced her engagement to Jimmy, and Prudence made a happy face when she
said she was promised to Ralph, saying nothing about the baby inside her.
Donna stopped talking to her unless it was absolutely necessary.

   In another few weeks Meg was showing through her clothes, and Sally as
well.  Prudence, later in August started showing too.  Mavis, along with
Sally, had seen no need to deprive herself of Bobby's affections, and had
missed the first period she had ever wanted badly to arrive.

   All in all, things were glum indeed.  The reaction of the townsfolk
wasn't quite as negative as Mavis would have expected.  She kept Sally and
Meg in the house as long as she could, and their first exposure to the
public view as obviously pregnant ladies didn't come until September. 
Prudence had already been seen to be heavy around the middle as she shopped
for food.  As luck would have it, there were two or three other women in
town who needed bigger dresses.  Two of those women were married to
soldiers on that train.  One was the sister of a soldier.  People in town
counted back, and remembered that trainload of lonely GIs, and made
assumptions that were not as negative as if those soldiers had not been
around.  Somehow, the idea that lonely soldiers might have strayed with the
women didn't seem so bad as it might otherwise have.

   Though the people of Hampstead Nebraska weren't aware of it, what would
come to be known as the Baby Boom of the late forties had begun.

   War news was now avidly sought by more than just Donna, and Bobby and
Mavis played with the children while the adults huddled around the radio
set.  Rachel became a constant visitor, and listened with them.

   The attitude of the women toward Bobby was something a good doctoral
thesis on psychology could have been based on.

   Donna might have been the best study.  Only Prudence knew that she too
was involved with Bobby sexually.  The others thought their secrets were
secrets.  But Donna wasn't stupid, and when bellies began to swell all
around her it didn't take long for her to make assumptions about who was
"responsible".  Rather than making her slack off her relationship, she used
both Prudence's time and her own, keeping Bobby at her house all morning,
or all afternoon, urging him to do the same thing to her that he'd done to
all of them.  She, alone, tried her best to get pregnant with Bobby.  And
when, in August, she knew she WAS pregnant, she exulted in that knowledge.
What she felt with him was so precious that she wanted his baby, to take
the place of her grown son, and the babies her dead husband hadn't been
able to give her.  And when that baby was old enough, she'd have another
one, if Bobby was still available to father one on her.

   None of the rest of the women had intended to, or wanted to get pregnant
with Bobby's baby.  All of them knew it was their own fault that they had
conceived.  Even though, in today's world, Bobby's part in the process
would have resulted in him taking half of the responsibility, the women
didn't look at it that way.  They still viewed Bobby as the hapless youth
who had made them so happy with his loving touches, and kisses ...  and
more, as they manipulated him.

   Even so, like Donna, they all still loved him, and they loved the feel
of his babies growing in their wombs.  At the same time, they wished they
weren't with child, because of the problems those swelling bellies caused.

   Some people love to drive fast, even though it scares them to death. 
It's the same with being in high places, or handling dangerous creatures.
There is a thrill that can't be experienced any other way, but that thrill
also carries with it dangers.  These women felt that way.  None of them
would have though of ending the pregnancy Bobby had caused in them.  But
most would have rather it hadn't happened.

   And yet, all of them were, in one way or another, glad beyond reason
that it HAD happened.

   For Sally, as she rubbed her hands over her bulging abdomen, she felt
only her love for Bobby.  No one had cared about her before she was
pregnant, and she was fast coming to an acceptance that what people outside
the house thought about her now just didn't matter.  Now that some of the
other women had given up their access to Bobby, she expanded it, sleeping
with him two nights a week.  She wished she could sleep with him every
night.

   For Mavis, she would have the chance now to have her own baby, something
she had given up on long ago.  She, like Sally, was fast approaching the
point where she didn't care what others in town thought about her
indiscretion.  She felt no compulsion to stop what she did with Bobby.  She
felt lavishly wonderful and complete when he pounded her and she clamped
her teeth on her gag.

   Everyone in the house assumed that Prudence's baby was Bobby's too.  It
was impossible not to for them, even though she had told them how, in a
moment of weakness, she had let Ralph have her.  But none of them would say
anything to Ralph about that, and he would think it was his baby.  She felt
miserable about that, but at the same time she firmed her resolve to get
another man, however she could.  She had nightmares about him coming back
and deciding that he didn't want her after all.  Or that he wouldn't come
back at all.

   Meg had experienced a roller coaster of emotions, first with Bobby
himself, and then, against all odds, with Jimmy, who decided to love her
despite the fact that she was a fallen woman.  She still had trouble
believing that this was all going to work out as well as Jimmy had
described it to her as they lay in the sun on the grass.  His dreams were
infectious, and she had only hope for a bright and happy future - as long
as Jimmy came back from the war.  Since he had left she had forced herself
to be true to him.  She still ached for Bobby's touch, though, and Jimmy's
acceptance of his little brother's baby in his fiancé's belly only made it
harder to keep from stealing away in the night to Bobby's bed.

   Of them all, Rachel's attitude about life had changed the most.  Her
inflated view of her own importance had died a horrible death when her
pregnancy became common knowledge.  That she loved Bobby so much made her
accept the ridicule and shame as something she deserved for some unstated
reason, and she refused to name him as the father.  And then when Wally
accepted her as she was, with another man's baby in her womb, her world had
expanded to include a new kind of joy and love.  She still loved Bobby. 
She would always love Bobby.  But now she had experienced something that
went beyond meeting just her physical needs, on an emotional level that
Bobby couldn't approach.  It could be argued that, had Bobby been
completely truthful with her, and the other women, he could have met that
need too.  But he limited his own world by the role he played.

   The dichotomy was that he had expanded his world even more, in one
sense, with his prevarication.  He had worked to climb up the levels of Mr.
Maslow's pyramid.  It had worked for him in some ways, and not in others.

   And all the women were conflicted in some ways, and happy in others.  It
is the natural state of humanity when they struggle to climb from one level
of Mister Maslow's pyramid to another, or get knocked from one level to the
one below.  Life is just that way.

   Bobby's life, however, was about to take a turn for the worse.  At least
initially.

   It happened one day in July, when harvest was in full swing, and
carefully hoarded and rationed gasoline was being used to transport grain
from the fields to the grain elevator in town.  There was dust everywhere,
in choking clouds, and it was hot and sticky.

   Mavis decided that a picnic was in order, down at the creek, at the bend
where Meg had skinny-dipped with Jimmy, and where he had proposed to her.
There had been four days of heavy rain north of them, to the anguish of the
farmers, who couldn't harvest if the moisture content in the grain was too
high.  The weather had been fine around Hampstead, but the watershed came
toward them.  As a result, the little placid creek was a rushing maelstrom
of turbulent water.  Since swimming wasn't part of the plan, however, the
lush grassy spot was the perfect place to get away from the dust and noise,
and enjoy nature.

   They were playing a game of keep-away with the rolled up sock ball. 
That ball had caused a boy to almost lose the use of his hand when the
broken window almost ruined it.  Now that ball almost caused more tragedy.

   Bobby was watching, lying on his side in the grass, while the children
ran and played.  He saw the ball arch up into the sky, and saw June Bug
reaching for it, running full speed ...  toward the creek.  As in slow
motion he saw her trip, and fall headlong over the embankment.  Below that,
he knew, ran raging water.

   His scream of "JUNE BUG" was out of his throat before he had any
rational thought.  The women were in two groups, one with Mavis, Meg and
Donna, who were preparing the food, spreading it out on a blanket. 
Prudence, Sally and Rachel were sitting on another blanket, just chatting
while they kept one eye on the children.

   None of them had seen June Bug's tumble.  At Bobby's strange yelling
voice, though, all six women looked up.

   Bobby's mind put first priority on the little girl who loved him and sat
on his lap listening to stories.  He jumped up and yelled again.  "JUNE BUG
JUST FELL IN THE RIVER!"

   Then he ran, cutting at an angle away from where she had disappeared,
heading downstream, hoping he could run faster than the water was carrying
the little girl.  He fell once, rolled and was up and running again as if
he had done it on purpose, as some fancy stunt.  He reached the shore,
tearing through the brush growing on the bank and raking long bloody
scratches on his arms and face.  As he broke through, he saw her bobbing
body about to sweep past him.  One arm was up in the air as she struggled
to stay afloat.

   He dove as he saw her little body disappear under the water.

   Bobby couldn't swim.  Only providence managed to put both him and June
Bug at a part of the creek where the water was shallow enough that, once he
felt her clothing in his grasp, allowed him to push off the bottom so that
his head broke the surface.  The water swept him and his charge along and
toward the shore where the creek made a wide curve, where it was shallower
still.  He managed to get his feet in front of him and, when they dug into
the bottom of the creek, the water stood him up and almost knocked him over
again.  His instinctive movement to lean back as June Bug's weight came
onto his arm saved him.  Teetering in water up to his thighs, he kept
leaning and pulled the little girl's body to his.  He couldn't know that,
when he hugged her fiercely to his body that he squeezed her hard enough to
force the water out of her lungs, almost as if he had done what would some
day be called CPR to her.

   As he staggered toward the shore, toward a branch that was hanging out,
she began to cough, and her limp body took on some tone.  He adjusted her
in his arms, getting his arm under her buttocks, as if he was just carrying
her from one place to another.  She coughed more, and began crying, her
body shaking in his arms.  He picked his way through the brush, onto dry
land, and stood, looking around.  He was disoriented now, and looked back
at the creek, knowing he needed to go upstream.

   He started slogging in that direction, cooing in June Bug's ear that
everything was going to be all right, and that she was safe now, and
patting her on the back.  She hugged him tightly.

   He heard the women before he saw them through the dense brush that lined
the side of the creek.  They were yelling to each other as they picked
their way through the vegetation, telling each other they didn't see
anything.  The, through a break in the branches, Bobby saw a splash of
color that was Sally's blouse.  She had pulled ahead of the others because
she wore slacks this day.

   Knowing that he had already alerted them to the fact that he could
speak, and knowing he couldn't carry June Bug much further, he called out.
"Sally ...  over here."

   She screamed, and the other voices slowly converged on them as she took
June Bug from his arms and he sat weakly on the ground.  Within minutes he
was surrounded by women, all of whom ignored him completely, and tended to
the crying little girl.  She still coughed, but less often now, and her
gasping breaths reassured the women.  She was handed to Donna, who turned
and began retracing her steps toward the swale where the other children
huddled nervously, abandoned by their adult supervisors.  Lou Anne and
Jenny, as the oldest, had taken charge and kept the children in a group.

   Mavis looked down at Bobby, a strange look on her face, and she held out
her hand to him, pulling him to his feet.  Her fingers went to the bleeding
scratches on his face, which looked much worse than they were because the
blood had mixed with the water running down from his hair.  It wasn't until
they were into the clearing that she spoke.

   "So you can speak after all." She looked at him sideways.  "Unless this
is a miracle of some sort."

   Bobby couldn't look at her.  "No miracle," he mumbled.

   "Well, well, well," was all she said.

   It was immediately decided that the picnic was over ...  that June Bug
needed to be looked at by the doctor.  Prudence said she would stay and
recover the blankets.

   "Bobby will stay and help you," Mavis said tersely.

   The women herded the children out toward the road, and the short walk
back to town.  bobby began folding up blankets, and putting food back in
the baskets that had carried it to the site.  Prudence glanced at him
repeatedly.  He felt her looks.

   "Are you mad at me?" he asked.

   Prudence jumped at the sound of his voice, still not used to the idea
that he could make that kind of noise.

   "Why?" she asked.  She had lots more questions, but that one was the
most important, to her mind.  Why had the man she loved so much lied to
her.

   "I was afraid you'd send me away," he said.  "It was kind of an accident
that it happened.  But this was so much better than anywhere else I'd been
I just wanted to stay."

   "You're much more intelligent than we thought," she said, amazed at his
cultured voice and his diction.

   "I guess so," he responded.

   Prudence couldn't help but think about all the times they'd lain in bed,
as she talked to him, and urged him to love her again.  She felt naked
somehow, but realized that was silly.

   "So it was all a game," she said.  There was sadness in her voice.

   Bobby looked up, hearing that sadness.  "No.  It was no game. 
Everything was very real."

   "When we were alone together ..." she started.  She couldn't, somehow,
say the words out loud.  "The look in your eyes ...  it made me feel ... 
special.  Was that real too?"

   "Yes," he said.  He wasn't used to talking, and it was easier to mimic
with his voice what his motions had communicated so efficiently.

   Then he asked again.  "Are you mad at me?"

   "I don't know," she answered truthfully.  "I have to think about that."

   They walked in silence back to Milleson House.

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

   The doctor was there when they arrived, having been gone for by Sally.
He had just pronounced June Bug fine, but put her on some of his carefully
hoarded penicillin to handle any infection that might pop up from having
inhaled any water.  He had been told about what happened, including Bobby's
sudden ability to speak.  When Bobby and Prudence came in, weighed down by
their burdens, he turned to the boy.

   "Well, you are just full of surprises, aren't you?"

   Bobby just hung his head.

   The doctor cleared his throat.  "Well, be that as it may, it's turned
out to be a good thing you came to Hampstead.  It's saved the lives of two
people." He packed up his black bag and closed it.  "You ladies ...  all
you ladies," he said looking at Mavis, "You need to get in to see me about
prenatal care.  I'll expect to see you all," he said with authority in his
voice.

   The women nodded as one, looking startled.

   "I wonder if I could have a word with you privately?" he said, looking
at Bobby.

   Bobby looked at Mavis, who waved her hand toward the parlor.  She turned
back to June Bug, who had calmed down and was enjoying all the attention.

   The Doctor took Bobby into the parlor and faced him.  He reached into
his bag for mercurochrome and began to treat the scratches on Bobby's face
and arms.

   "Have you always been able to talk?" he asked.

   "Yes sir," was Bobby's reply.

   "Tell me what happened when you ...  stopped that man." Bobby knew he
was talking about Rachel's attempted rape.

   "He was attacking her and I hit him," said Bobby.  "She was screaming,"
he added.

   "Did you see him actually ...  uh ...  was he actually in ...  I need to
know if he had sex with her," he finally finished.

   "Why?" asked Bobby.

   "Because, when we buried that man, I got a look at him, and he was
wasting away with a disease that that teacher will have if he actually
raped her.  If he did, then I need to start her treatment as soon as
possible.  She keeps telling me that he didn't, but she can't remember
everything and she is, after all ...  well, with child."

   "He didn't rape her," said Bobby.  "He was ready to, but I hit him and
made him stop."

   "You did at that," said the doctor.  "All right.  That's what I needed
to know.  He looked shrewdly at Bobby.  "You visit her house frequently,
don't you?" Bobby got cautious.  "She lets me read books ...  teaches me
things."

   The doctor nodded.  "As I suspected, of course.  Well, education is very
important, especially if you can talk.  All this is confidential, of
course. Teaches you things.  Humph.  Lot of pregnant women around here." He
looked at Bobby.

   "Yes sir," said Bobby.

   The doctor smiled.  "Well, since from what I can see there are no other
men around, I suppose it's handy for them that you're here." He winked. 
"And it's a good thing you were there at the creek, and saw what happened.
That little girl owes you her life." He seemed to be thinking about
something.  Then he straightened up.  "Yes ...  I'm thinking it's a good
thing you came here."

   With that he shook Bobby's hand, and headed for the door.  "Teaches him
things!" he chuckled as he opened it and left.

   With lunch missed, and supper being prepared, the women were too busy to
deal with Bobby.  June Bug wanted to sit on his lap anyway, and she stared
at him with adoring eyes.  Not only did he dispel monsters from the closet,
he had saved her life too.  She felt compelled to give him a hug about
every two or three minutes, and had to be pried off of him for supper.

   After supper, it being bath night, the women were still busy, and both
June Bug and Emily were in their rightful places on his lap as Meg read. 
When the second shift of kids came out of the bathroom, and had been
dressed for bed, Mavis looked at Bobby.

   "I reckon you'll take your own bath tonight, young man," she said.

   "Yes ma'am," he answered.  He headed for the bathroom.  He was in the
bathtub when Sally came in with his night shirt.

   "Here," she said, putting it on the floor by the wall.

   "Are you mad at me?" he asked her, sitting in the warm water.

   "Yes!" she said.  "NO! ...  oh I don't know!" she finished.  She turned
and left before he could say anything else.

   When he came out, all five women were waiting for him.  They were seated
at the dining table, and there was an empty chair waiting for him.

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

   Author's comment: Sometiems readers respond to an ongoing story with
ideas and suggestions that make a lot of sense.  My thanks to DirtyH for
just that kind of thing, which affected the ending of this story.

   CHAPTER FIFTEEN

   Bobby looked at the circle of women ...  at the five pairs of eyes
staring at him.  He noticed how quiet it was in the house, almost as if he
had gone deaf.  Mavis shifted in her seat, and the rustle of her skirts and
creak of the chair came as a remarkably welcome sound.

   There wasn't anything to do but sit in that empty chair, waiting for
him. Bobby didn't want to do that.  But he knew he had to.  He owed that to
them, at a minimum.  And he knew he'd tell the truth.  He owed them that
too.

   Feeling tense, like when he knew he'd get a beating, he sat.  No one
noticed the irony of the fact that he didn't speak until spoken to.

   That ...  conversation, to put it gently, would make a story all by
itself.  There developed, during the hour that they bombarded him with
questions, the full range of emotions that women are capable of.  There was
anger, and disappointment, and curiosity.  Remembered incidents were
discussed, sometimes as if he weren't even there any more.  Donna's
participation with Bobby at Prudence's house came out in the process and,
red faced, she defended her actions by pointing out the actions of the
rest.

   The women wanted to be angry.  In their minds they had the right to be
angry ...  SHOULD be angry.  And being duped was the least of what Bobby
had done to them.  There were, in a sense, eleven people in the room.  Five
of them were nestled deep inside five of the others, floating, unconcerned,
warm and safe.  The women carrying them, though, were not so serene, and
they wanted to blame their condition on Bobby.

   But try as they could to be angry with him for his deception, all of
those women had loved him on some level, and been loved back, and his
answers about why he had done what he had done did nothing to suggest that
he had preyed upon them.  They questioned him closely about his life before
Milleson House, and his experience with women before he came there, half
expecting that he was some Lothario who had taken advantage of them.  It
became clear, however, as all their sexual exploits were finally aired
publicly, that the opposite was true.

   They had exploited him.  Not that he had cared.  Quite the opposite in
fact, but it was clear that the only reason they were all pregnant with his
babies was because of THEIR emotional needs, and his willingness to meet
them.

   Finally Mavis told him to go on to bed.

   "Are you going to send me away?" he asked, standing.  At this point he
expected that ...  feared that ...  but also felt like he deserved it.

   Mavis snorted.  "You'll be seventeen in what, two months?  I couldn't
get the paperwork through in that time."

   Her comment did not suggest that he was still welcome.

   "I could just go on the road," he said.  "If that would make things
better."

   "No!" said Sally firmly.  "You'll not go off and leave us all here
alone." It wasn't clear exactly what she meant by that.  There was some
muttering, but Bobby couldn't understand the words.

   "Off to bed," ordered Mavis.  "We have more talking to do."

   Bobby went to bed, but he couldn't get to sleep right away, even though
he felt very lucky to still have a soft, warm place to sleep.  He could
still hear the occasional muttering voices of the women down below.  More
than once those voices rose to a scale where he could hear a word or two
clearly.

   He stared at the ceiling in the dark, trying not to listen.

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

   He had finally nodded off when the door to his room opened.  Someone
came in.  She smelled like Sally.  There was the rustle of clothing, and a
naked body climbed into bed with him.  He was right.  It was Sally.

   He was, to put it mildly, astonished.

   He was still wearing his night shirt, and her hand snaked down, and
under it, to slid up to his chest, passing by his flaccid penis.  She felt
warm against him.

   "You can't go off and leave me alone," she said to his cheek.  "No one
has ever made me feel like you do." She snuggled more, and her hand played
with his skin.  "I'd curl up and die if you left," she said.

   "I don't want to leave," he said into her hair.

   "It's still so strange to hear your voice," she said.  "Will you make
love to me?"

   "Yes," he said.

   She tugged and pulled at his shirt, getting it off of him, and melted
against him.  Their lovemaking was slow and gentle, with her starting on
top and then pulling him over on top of her.

   "We won't be able to do this much longer," she said from under him. 
"I'm going to get too big for you to be on top."

   "I wish I could marry you," murmured Bobby.  "Then we could do this
forever."

   Sally's hands, which had been on his chest, holding him up off of her
swelling belly clenched his skin, almost painfully as she froze and she
gasped.

   "What's wrong?" he asked, glad that he could voice his question.

   "You'd marry me?" she said in a tiny reedy voice.

   "They'd never let me marry you," he sighed.

   It was a frozen tableau in the dark as silence stretched.  Her fingers
still gripped his skin painfully, but he didn't care.

   "Why not Bobby?" she asked.

   He thought about that.  "I guess I just thought I'd always be an
orphan," he said.  "I'm not used to thinking about making my own
decisions." Her knees came up and hugged his sides as her pussy squeezed at
his prick.  "If I could ...  would you marry me?" he asked, his heart in
his throat.

   There was another agonizing moment of frozen silence and then he felt
her body go limp as she drew in a lungful of air.

   "YES!" she screamed.  "OH YES BOBBY, YES!"

   There was the thump of feet hitting the floor next door in Meg's room,
then the sound of the door opening, the hinges squeaking lightly.  Bobby's
door opened again and Meg was standing there.

   "Bobby?" she asked.  "Sally?  What's going on?"

   Sally clutched Bobby to her.

   "Bobby just asked me to marry him," she said in a completely normal
voice.  "And I said YES!" She yelled the last word.

   "SSHHHHH" scolded Meg.  Then "What?!  Did you say MARRY you?"

   "YES!" yelled Sally again, joyously.

   Meg felt a rush of emotions run through her body.  It seemed as if the
baby jumped in her womb, even though it was too early for that to be
happening.  She felt jealousy, then joy, then worry, all in a rush.  She
wanted to be elated for her friend, but she wasn't sure she should be.

   "Quiet down!" she scolded.  "You're going to wake up everybody in the
house!"

   "I'll be good," said Sally in a quiet voice that sounded more like one
of her small female charges than an adult.  Then she started giggling, and
then laughing until she covered her mouth with both hands.

   Meg closed the door and stood, listening, not so much to Bobby and
Sally, but to see if any of the children had gotten up, or if Mavis had
heard Sally's shouts and was coming up to investigate.  When she heard
nothing she shook her head.  The bedsprings in Bobby's room were making a
racket now.  As she went back to her room she found her hands molded to the
swell of her own belly, holding her baby ...  Bobby's baby.  She wished
more than anything that Jimmy was here, so he could make her bedsprings
sing too.

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

   In the morning Sally took the first opportunity to face Mavis and
announce that she couldn't make Bobby leave, because she was going to marry
him.

   Mavis passed through the shock of the announcement almost instantly as
the sense of that hit her.  Why hadn't she thought about that?  Oh, there
had been that one time, when she and Meg had talked of marriage, but that
was in the abstract.  Why hadn't any of the women seriously thought about
that?  She thought about herself, being wed to a seventeen year old, and
wanted to giggle.  That wouldn't work.  Not for her anyway.  But it was
perfect for Sally.  And Bobby WOULD get to stay.  No one could gainsay him
if he were a married man, with a job.  She slumped as she realized that, of
them all, she was the only one likely to end up as an unwed mother.  In her
own self pity she forgot about Donna.

   Sally had watched Mavis' face closely as all that flitted through her
mind.  She knew her employer well, and she saw that slump for what it was.

   "You can still see him," she said, clutching Mavis' sleeve.  "I'll still
share."

   "You must be joking," said Mavis, shocked.

   "Not at all," said Sally, as if it were the most normal thing in the
world to say in 1945.  "If it weren't for you, Bobby would never have come
here.  You let him stay.  You and I both know I'd have ended up as an old
maid.  Now I have a baby on the way, and I'm going to have a husband, and
my life is going to be full of joy.  All because of you.  I couldn't do
anything else but share him with you."

   "That's crazy," said Mavis.  But at the same time her heart leapt.  When
she was with Bobby in bed she was happier than at almost any other time.

   "And if you want to have more babies you can," said Sally.  "I know I'm
going to.  I'm going to have as many as I can!"

   "Let's not get ahead of ourselves here," cautioned Mavis.  "Bobby may
have something to say about this."

   "Bobby loves us all," said Sally firmly.  "We talked last night, in
bed." She didn't blush at her admission, which she would have before.  Her
self confidence was as high as it had ever been in her life.  "He's worried
because he loves all of us, and he's afraid we all hate him now."

   Sally's eyes looked startled for an instant as she reflected on what
she'd just said.

   "Well, not me.  He knows I love him.  I made that clear." Now she did
blush.

   "I don't think any of us hate him," said Mavis.  "We might be perturbed
with him, but nobody hates him."

   "Well, nobody told him that last night," said Sally.  "We talked for
hours.  He was still afraid you'd send him away.  But you can't.  He's my
fiancé now."

   "I wasn't going to send him anywhere," snorted Mavis.  "He's almost a
man.  He's got a job, and he made a whole lot of babies around here.  He
needs to be here.  This is where he belongs."

   Then her eyes got round as the full impact of everything that had been
said hit her.  He COULD stay ...  WOULD stay ...  and she'd STILL get to be
with him sometimes.  She hugged Sally tightly.  "I'm so HAPPY for you," she
said.

   The mood in the house improved markedly that day.  To those of us in
this modern day it seemes inconcievable that Sally would do what she did,
but remember that these women had been through years and years of self
denial, and sacrifice, and times so hard we have no concept of what that
was like.  Sally went to each woman, explaining that, while she was going
to marry Bobby when he turned seventeen, on the 5th of August, 1945, until
then, and quite possibly after then, the women would have access to Bobby
if they so desired.  She didn't exactly encourage that.  She simply stated
it, and told the women that Bobby loved them all.  After lunch she went to
see Rachel, who, when she was finally able to unburden herself to somebody
about whose baby she was carrying, cried with relief.  Sally hugged her,
suggesting that now they were sisters ...  all of them.

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

   The wedding caused a sensation in town.  Many people had tried to figure
out how all those women at the Milleson House could turn up pregnant, more
or less within the same time frame.  Many just believed that the soldiers
had caused it when they spread their wild oats before being shipped out
again.  But when people found out that one of the women was going to marry
the orphan boy - the one who couldn't talk, but then who experienced some
kind of miraculous cure and COULD talk - minds began looking at things
another way.  Suspicion abounded, and that was probably one reason why
Sally's wedding was the best attended wedding in Hampstead history.

   One of the most prominent attendees was Doctor Johansen, who gathered a
crowd as he expounded on what many people had been wondering about.  He
described, in pompous tones, how many mute people were that way because of
things in their past, usually terrible things, but that the ability to
speak still resided in their brain.  Then, in extreme emotional situations,
that ability could be broken loose.  He described how Bobby's love for the
poor little girl he'd saved must have broken his silence.  He characterized
Bobby as "recovering" from his muteness, though not completely over it yet.
When Maud, the fat cook from the saloon argued that SHE had heard him talk
before, the doctor just smiled and reminded everyone that THAT had been a
horrific and emotional situation then too.

   No one noticed the glint in the Doctor's eye or the hint of a smile on
his lips as he voiced his hypothesis.  People's eyes began to soften when
they went Bobby's way as he stood ...  silently, interestingly enough,
waiting for events to proceed.

   The fact that Homer acted as Bobby's best man, wearing his badge and
pistol prominently, didn't hurt things either for that matter.  Still, it
was a festive and rumor-filled assemblage, generating more excitement than
had been unleashed in the town in some years.

   Sally herself, having few means, just got married in her best dress,
which had been altered to fit snugly over the evidence that Bobby was,
after all, simple minded, since otherwise he would not marry a pregnant
woman otherwise.  At least that's what some thought.  Others assumed he was
marrying the woman he'd knocked up, but then he'd have to be simple minded
to want such a plain woman too, wouldn't he?  Since all the other pregnant
women from Milleson house were not only present at the wedding, but were
bridesmaids, and since they displayed only love toward the bride, the
rumors that Bobby had been responsible for all of them were discounted. 
What woman, pregnant with a man's baby, would stand idly by while he
married some other woman?

   After a simple wedding, during which the whole congregation leaned
forward as one to hear Bobby say "I Do", the happy couple just walked back
to Milleson House, where they were going to keep living until other
accommodations could be found.  It was five-fifteen in the evening when
things broke up.

   The uproar in town would have gone on much longer than it did, but for
one thing.  As Bobby and Sally left the wedding, to begin their new life
together, and bring new life into the world, thousands of miles away,
hundreds of thousands of people were dying in the same amount of time that
it took Bobby to utter the first two words most people in town had ever
heard him speak.

   The American public didn't find out what happened at 5:15 PM, on the 5th
of August, 1945, in a place a lot of people couldn't even pronounce -
Hiroshima, Japan - until sixteen hours later.

   The news that an atomic bomb had been dropped on Japan swept all other
news, both national, regional and local, out of people's minds.  The
descriptions released were horrible, unimaginable, and people couldn't
grasp the immensity of what had happened.

   Three days later another bomb was dropped, and not quite a month later,
as leaves on trees in America began to emulate the populations of two
cities far away by dropping lifeless to the ground, Japan surrendered.

   It was all over.

   The boys were coming home.

   And many more boys were coming home than had been thought would be. 
Estimates of how many American soldiers would have to die in the invasion
of Japan varied, but all of them were in the hundreds of thousands.  Now,
instead of those hundreds of thousands of American GIs dying, an equal
number of Japanese people had died instead.

   Among the thousands who would live, and would be coming home, there were
three, named Wally, Ralph and Jimmy.  So few, among so many.

   But they were very important to four women back in Nebraska.

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

   As Bobby and Sally's wedding had taken place on a momentous day in
history, so it was decided that another momentous day would be used for the
weddings of Meg, Prudence and Rachel.  All three weddings would take place
on the seventh of December.

   Rachel was the only one who looked normal, as far as brides go.  Except
for the two week old twins, one held by her and the other by her groom as
they said their nuptials.

   It was a study in contrasts, as Meg looked like she might go into labor
during the wedding.  Jimmy had to lean past her eight month swollen belly
to kiss her when it was time, and instead of hugging her when he gave her
that first kiss between husband and wife, his hands rested softly on the
thin fabric and skin that separated him from the baby that wasn't his.  As
he stood, holding her hand, when it was Prudence and Ralph's turn, he
looked at the babies in Rachel's and Wally's arms.  If "his" baby looked
anything like that, he was going to be a proud father.

   Prudence, at seven months, wasn't far behind Meg, though she wasn't as
extravagantly pregnant.  Some people though Meg was going to have twins
too. Prudence looked radiant, though, as many pregnant women do.  Part of
that radiance was the result of a clear conscience.  Prudence's conscience
had bothered her so much, and Ralph's attitude toward her was so loving
when he got "home", that in a huddle with Meg and Rachel, she told them she
was going to confess to him whose baby she was carrying.  She couldn't lie
to him any longer.  When Meg admitted that she had already told Jimmy, and
that he loved her anyway, it was decided that all would come clean to the
men.  At that time, the men had only been back home a week.  A dinner
engagement was set up at Milleson House and, before dinner, Rachel took
Wally into Mavis' room, while Prudence took Ralph into Meg's room.

   The rest waited in the dining room anxiously.  Jimmy, who who had been
through so much with his two friends, was let in on what was happening.

   "And you let them go in a bedroom alone?" he asked, scratching his head.
"I thought we wuz here for dinner."

   "You don't think they'll stay?" asked Mavis worriedly.

   "Ma'am, I lived with those men the last few months, and all they could
talk about was those women.  I don't think there's any arguing going on in
there at all.  But that's the first time either of them has been alone with
their woman.  I don't s'pect there's any talking going on in those rooms at
all!"

   In fact, when, almost forty-five minutes later the two couples came back
into the dining room, their clothes were rumpled and there were big smiles
on the faces of both men.  The women just blushed, and announced that the
weddings would proceed as planned.

   As if a triple wedding with all the women either pregnant or recently
delivered wasn't enough to cause a sensation in town, the attendance of
Mavis and Donna, now both five months pregnant would have caused a riot,
except for the fact that there were almost fifty other women in town who
were with child.  Everybody knew a pregnant woman, many of whom were
planning hurried weddings, and it was difficult to chastise one woman and
not another.

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

   Prudence's divorce was adjudged final in October, and the landlord let
her stay.  After the wedding Ralph moved in, but they didn't stay long.  It
was too small, and Ralph wanted to be closer to the farm.  Wally and Rachel
were already living there, of course, and with the twins and Rachel's
stated goal to raise at least six children, it was clear that the house
would be full of their own family.  So two houses were built side by side,
with a common wall, in a style that was catching on around the country,
called a duplex house.  Ralph and Prudence lived in one, while Jimmy and
Meg moved into the other.  They all thought that having three bedrooms in a
house was extravagant, but they'd be glad for all that room in a short two
or three years.  Prudence, Meg and Rachel entered into a friendly
competition that the men didn't know about, to see who could get pregnant
first after all Bobby's children were born.

   Sally and Bobby stayed at Milleson House.  After the war, the desire to
adopt children gained in popularity, and the Government, in its infinite
wisdom, decided that small orphanages like Milleson House were not
efficient enough.  Financial support was withdrawn.  By the time the letter
was received notifying Mavis that the last government payment to her would
be made in three months, and suggesting that she complete all remaining
transfer orders, most of the children had already been adopted.  Only June
Bug, who could not speak and Patrick, who had one ankle with something wrong with it that made the foot attached to it look pigeon-toed, were left.

   One night, as decisions were being made by Mavis in the next room about
what she would do with her house now, Bobby was reading to June Bug and
Patrick.  When he got to the end of the story, and said the magical words
"and they all lived happily ever after", June Bug looked up at Bobby's face
and said the first words anyone had ever heard cross her lips.

   "Will you be my daddy?"

   Sally and Bobby adopted both children, adding to their growing family.
Together with Mavis, they had two babies, and now two older children.  Both
Mavis and Sally were already pregnant again.

   Bobby, now working full time for the cabinet maker, ordered a house to
be built that would hold three more children than they already had.  Sally
thought she might be satisfied with six, but wasn't promising Bobby
anything.

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

   One other thing needs mentioning as this tale winds to a close.  One of
the things associated with weddings is wedding gifts.  In those hard times,
when people did without so that their sons and husbands would have what was
needed to end the bloodshed, wedding gifts were fairly mundane things.  You
might get some towels.  If you were lucky, and people worked together,
maybe there would be a set of dishes.  Many gifts were hand-me-downs, from
relatives.  An heirloom clock, or the family silver might be transferred to
those who were going to carry on the family line.

   In Hampstead Nebraska, sitting prominently where each of six women can
see them, are six exquisite wood carvings, gifts at their weddings, from
the orphan boy they took in and learned to love.  They are small things,
when compared to the other gift he gave each of those women, but you may
rest assured that, if the house in which any of those women live ever
catches fire, after grabbing the children she bore, each of those women
will snatch up that carving and rescue it too.

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

   A new sign sits out in front of Milleson House.  Donna and Mavis run it
now, and Sally is the cook until the new house being built for her and her
husband is ready to move into.  There's really no need of any other help.
And the new tenants feel right at home with those two women ...  women who
fully understand the situation those tenants are in.

   The townspeople still chuckle about what Mavis decided to do.  The town
now accepted all the children running around, who looked amazingly alike
whenever they got in a group.  But they had not forgotten all those
pregnancies in that house.  That was why they laughed at what Milleson
House had become.

   The Milleson Home for Unwed Mothers.






   
