Foreword

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

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

   Bob

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

   The Making of a Gigolo (11) - Renee Zimmerman by Beating Off Bob

   1973 - October

   Constance Appleton grieved.  Everyone who knew her wanted to help, but
there are times when no one can.  From her perspective, her world was over.
Her life had been uninteresting as a teen, until Bobby Dalton had brought
joy into her mother's life and her own at the same time.  Then she'd met
Tim and fallen in love with him.  Now he'd been taken away from her by a
war, far, far away, and life was, again, uninteresting.

   There was no shortage of women in Granger who had experienced the same
loss - some of them under the same kind of circumstances - and all of them
sat with her, waiting to talk her through it.  None of them got the chance,
though, because Constance wouldn't talk.  She just sat, her eyes staring
straight ahead.  Tim was gone, and almost all trace of him was gone too. 
There were some of his clothes at her house.  The rest were still with his
parents.  She had nothing else.  As hard as they had tried, in those two
brief weeks he'd been home, she had not gotten pregnant.

   There had been all kinds of official communications.  The first had
devastated her, with its notification that he had been killed in action. 
The following letters made it worse, because they represented the
bureaucracy that had, to her mind, killed her husband, yet which rolled on
without emotion, unkillable, as they notified her of survivor's benefits,
body shipment details, and a host of other things that she didn't care
about and didn't want to know.  They offered to "let" her make funeral
arrangements, and in the next sentence said that they would bury him in a
military cemetery, if she didn't want to.  The thought of seeing his coffin
was unbearable.  She knew she'd be sorry later, but she let the military
take care of his burial.  His parents begged her to go with them, but she
declined.

   Prudence collected all the letters he had written her daughter and
stored them.  They might be needed later.

   Constance sat and stared, until her body finally collapsed from
exhaustion, and people put her in bed.

   She stayed there for almost a week.  All she could think about was how
unfair it was.

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

   Life wasn't fair for another woman in Granger, that fall.

   Renee Harqart-Zimmerman was a very unhappy woman.  She'd had everything
she could hope for, but then something went terribly wrong.  Born with a
silver spoon in her mouth, the only daughter of Howard and Wilamena
Harqart, she had wealth lavished on her as a child.  Her father was an
investment banker, and a good one.  Her mother was a socialite, who spent
money freely on everything, including her only child.  She'd been sent to
the best schools, and had a degree in early childhood education, a new
field that had only been in existence, formally, for a few years.  She'd
met a man in college ...  a bright, handsome, wealthy man, who had
convinced her that together they could lasso the world and have whatever
they wanted.  He had always had money too, and lavished it on her like her
mother and father had all her life.  He'd dressed well, had a beautiful,
expensive Mercedes and perfect manners.

   He'd been somewhat secretive about his parents.  She'd never met them.
He had convinced her to elope, something that had caused her mother endless
anguish and grief.  She had given in to his almost constant suggestions to
sneak off and get married when their petting got to the point where she
knew she was going to let him between her legs.  They had left a graduation
party to drive all night to get to Las Vegas.  The next morning she had
awakened, sore between the legs, with a new last name.

   She'd been raised to be a strict Catholic.  No birth control, no sex
before marriage, and no divorce.  Those were the rules and they were
nonnegotiable.  Even at twenty-one years of age, she bowed to her parents'
wishes in that and in many other things.  The elopement had felt good, like
she was finally able to thumb her nose at her parents.  She had promised
her mother there would be a big wedding later, but she was married now, and
they were moving to central Kansas, so he could take advantage of that
location for his business.

   He hadn't been clear as to just what his business was.  He said he was
in the import export business ...  was a broker for others, who paid him
well to find the products they wanted.  He'd already started it in college.
It required trips, occasionally, and he was gone for days.  He was always
upbeat and happy, when he returned, and talked of all the money he'd made.

   She realized now that she had been an empty-headed idiot, taking
everything he said at face value ...  never asking probing questions.  She
was used to being around wealthy people, and he was wealthy.  Wealthy
people were always a little secretive about their business dealings.  He
had always been very popular too.  Tons and tons of people stopped by for a
five or ten minute chat.  He had a collection of baseball memorabilia they
all seemed to be interested in.  Most of the people who stopped in to chat
wanted to see it and he took them to his room.

   Not once did the thought of drugs ever cross her mind while she was
dating Daniel.  It wasn't that she was ignorant about drugs.  Even
exclusive schools had drugs in them.  She was well aware of that.  She knew
about "Reefer" and "Ludes" and "Speed", even though she had no interest in
that kind of thing.  She didn't hang out with the kids who did.  She'd
known it was around in college too, but it didn't have anything to do with
her, so she ignored it.

   Then, two months after her marriage, while Daniel was on one of his
trips, he had called.  He was in jail, and needed her to bring money to
bail him out.  He wouldn't talk about why he was in jail.  He just told her
to bring fifty thousand dollars to someplace in New Mexico.  Fifty thousand
dollars!  He asked for it like it was lying around somewhere, in a shoe
box. They had twelve thousand in their bank account.  Renee was still
receiving monthly checks from a trust fund set up by her grandfather.  But
they didn't have fifty thousand!

   "We don't have that much!" she said.

   "Get it from your parents," he replied.

   "I can't just ask them for fifty thousand dollars and not tell them
why!"

   "I'm in real trouble here, Renee," he said.  "I only get this one call.
I'm going to need a lawyer too.  A good one."

   "What's going ON, DANIEL?!" she yelled.

   "Just bring the money," he said.

   He had hung up on her.

   She didn't know what to do.  They had only lived here, in this
surprisingly small town in the middle of nowhere, for two months.  She
barely knew anybody.  They'd gotten a good deal on a nice house that was up
for auction in an estate sale, but it was just outside of town, and the
nearest neighbor was a mile away.  She hadn't met, and actually spoken to,
more than five or ten people.

   She wasn't stupid.  She got in the car and went to the police department
in town.

   "Can I help you?" asked a burly man in a blue uniform at the big open
window just inside the front door of the station.

   She told him her story.

   "He wouldn't tell me why he got arrested," she said.  "His bail is fifty
thousand dollars.  I need to get more information, and I thought you could
help me."

   The man turned to a shelf of books, behind him, and pulled one down.

   "What town?" he asked.

   She told him and he flipped through the book.  He picked up the phone
and made a call.  He gave them Daniel's name.  "I got a request for
assistance here," he said.  "Mutual interest kind of thing.  What do you
have on this guy?" He listened, wrote something on a piece of paper and
said "What kind of vehicle?" He wrote some more, said "OK, thanks," and
hung up.

   "He was caught transporting six hundred pounds of marijuana," he said.
"He also had other drugs in the car, but they aren't sure yet what they all
are."

   Renee's jaw dropped.

   "There must be some mistake," she said.  "He's my husband!  He'd never
do anything like that!  It must have been someone else's car."'

   The man looked at the paper he'd made notes on.  "1970 Mercedes Benz,
blue, Vermont license 2LR334, registered to one Daniel K.  Zimmerman?"

   "That's our car!" she cried.  "But that can't be.  My husband is not a
drug dealer!"

   "Ma'am," said the beefy man gently.  "The car had secret compartments
built into it.  It's been into Mexico, according to the Border Patrol, more
than a dozen times since 1971."

   She had fled.  Daniel was a drug dealer?

   The drive home had been agonizing.  Things she had ignored became clear
to her now.  All those visitors in college.  They weren't there to say "Hi"
or look at his autographed baseballs.  They were buying drugs!  His trips
...  his "import export business" ...  it was all a front for being a
fucking drug dealer!

   She was furious.  She was so furious that she not only didn't get any of
the money Daniel had ordered her to get, she also didn't go see the bail
bondsman that the man at the police department had said she could talk to
about the bail.  She felt betrayed.  He got himself into this mess ...  and
HER with it!  Let HIM get himself out!

   She couldn't tell her parents.  She'd never be able to show her face at
home again.  She stewed about it for three weeks, before she finally went
to Eagle Bail Bonds and went inside.

   A man named Johnny listened to her tale.  He made phone calls too,
several of them.

   "I can't help you," he said.  "He's already been tried."

   "Where is he then?" she asked.

   "He is currently incarcerated at the New Mexico State Penitentiary, in
Santa Fe, for a term of twenty-five to fifty years," said the man, as if he
were telling her the price of lettuce.  "Tough break," he added.

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

   She got a letter from him two days later.  He was furious with her.  He
blamed his imprisonment on her, for not getting him out on bail, and for
not getting him a decent lawyer.  He'd had to use a public defender.  The
car had been seized and forfeited.  He'd set a record for the biggest
marijuana bust in New Mexico history, and the wheels of justice had moved
quickly.  There were federal charges pending against him.

   He called her "a stupid cunt" in his letter.

   She hadn't written back.  She hadn't gone to visit him.  She knew she
never would.  In the two months since then, she had lied to her parents,
saying Daniel was overseas, expanding his business.  She had plenty of
money.  She had a place to live.  But she was living a lie.  Her mother
kept insisting that the formal wedding needed to be done quickly ...  that
too much time had already elapsed.

   She couldn't divorce him.  That would get her thrown out of her family.
She couldn't tell them about him.  She'd never live it down, and they'd
never speak to her again.  She wanted to run away.  But from what ...  and
to where?  She was already in the middle of nowhere, in Granger, Kansas. 
She couldn't abandon the house.  This place ...  this little hiding place,
was all she had.

   She even thought about suicide ...  just ending it all and stopping the
pain.  She was a good Catholic, though, and the thought of eternal
damnation was even worse.  She envisioned Hell as where she was right now,
with her life like it was right now.  She got drunk and had a nightmare
vision of waking up from dying ...  right where she was, knowing that she
would be here forever, throughout eternity.

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

   She hid from the world for as long as she could, but there came a time
when hunger drove her to leave, and head for the grocery store.

   She was a mess.  She hadn't showered for days ...  hadn't slept much,
and when she did sleep it was in her clothes.  She hadn't eaten, because
there was no food.  For two days she'd eaten condiments from the
refrigerator ...  ketchup ...  hamburger relish ...  she'd even tried
eating the mustard, but had thrown up.  The meat in the meat drawer smelled
foul.  The frozen food was gone.  A single can of beets was in the pantry.

   The jolt of the collision pushed her forward and her forehead bounced
off of the steering wheel.  She flopped back against the head rest and
stared, dazed, at the car in front of her.  She'd run into somebody.

   A man got out, and stopped at his rear bumper, staring.  She looked
around.  They were at a stop light.  She'd obviously seen him, but hadn't
stopped quickly enough.  She put the car in reverse and stepped on the gas.
There was a wrenching, tearing metallic sound and the car lurched suddenly
backwards.  In a panic she stomped on the brake and the tires screeched. 
Something silver was lying in the road, between her car, and his.

   Then everything faded.

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

   She woke up in the hospital.  Almost as soon as she sat up, a nurse was
there, making her lie down again.  A doctor came, and told her she'd been
in an accident, which hadn't hurt her, but that she had collapsed from
malnourishment.  She'd been asleep for twelve hours, under sedation, while
they pumped liquid food into her veins.

   They knew who she was.  The police had found her purse, and her driver's
license.  She hadn't gotten a new driver's license yet, and her maiden name
was on the old one.  The car was also registered in her name.  They hadn't
had time to do all the changes that a marriage brings about in officialdom.
They wanted to know who to call ...  was she married?  She lied.  She told
them there was nobody to call, that she'd pay the bill herself.

   They were skeptical.  Women who had the money to pay hospital bills
didn't starve themselves to death.  Someone had taken her wedding rings off
while she was unconscious and produced them.  The suggestion was clear that
they thought she was lying to them.

   "My husband is out of the country," she said.  "He won't be back for a
long time.  I'll pay the bill!"

   They told her she had to stay there, at least several days.  They said
the police wanted to talk to her.

   A man came to see her.  He was the man she remembered getting out of the
car she'd hit ...  the man who had been staring at the bumper in the road
between their cars.  It was the last thing she remembered, before waking up
in the hospital.

   "Are you OK?" he asked.

   "No," she said dully.  She hadn't meant to say that.

   "They said you can go home in a couple of days," he said.

   "I'm sorry I hit you," she said.

   "I know."

   She looked at him ...  really looked at him, for the first time.  He
looked like he was a little older than her.  He had black hair, with a
loose forelock that fell onto his forehead, and very blue eyes.

   "I didn't think you hit me on purpose," he added.

   She didn't say anything.  She didn't know what to say.

   "I'm Bobby," he said.

   "What do you want?" she asked.

   "I just wanted to make sure you were OK."

   "I hit YOU," she said.  "Are YOU OK?"

   "I'm fine," he said.  "I saw you weren't going to be able to stop in
time, and tried to get out of your way.  It could have been much worse, but
I was moving when you hit me."

   "Oh," she said, and lapsed back into silence.

   "I guess I'll let you get some rest," he said, moving to the door.

   "OK," she said, listlessly.

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

   They kept her there for three days.  The police brought her purse to the
hospital, but didn't talk to her.  The nurse brought the purse in.  She
would be forever convinced that the only reason they let her go that day
was because her check book was in her purse, and she was able to write them
a check to pay the hospital bill.

   They had kept her clothes, but, of course, hadn't washed them.  They had
washed HER, while she was asleep.  She did feel a lot better, now that she
was eating again, but she dreaded putting on the smelly, stiff clothing
she'd been wearing when the ambulance took her away.  She was disgusted
with herself for letting herself sink as low as she had.

   The next hurdle, once she was dressed, was getting home.  No one knew
where her car was.  There was no taxi service in the small town.  Standing
at the front entrance of the hospital, she didn't know exactly how far it
was to walk, but she knew it was at least five or six miles.  For the first
time in her life she thought about hitchhiking.

   She was, therefore, astonished when the man she'd hit ...  what was his
name? ...  walked toward her from the parking lot.

   "Need a ride?" he asked.

   "Yes!" she said, staring at him.  "But you're the last person on earth I
thought would offer me one."

   He shrugged.  "You need a lift.  I have one.  It's the holiday season
and it's the neighborly thing to do."

   "But I wrecked your car!" she yipped.

   "Wasn't that bad," he said.  "There was some rust underneath, and the
bolts pulled through.  It's already fixed."

   "I'll pay for the repairs," she said.

   "OK," he said amiably.  "It took me two hours.  You owe me twelve
fifty."

   She blinked.  "You fixed it yourself?"

   "That's what I do," he said.  "I fix things.  I had to raise my rates,
or it only would have cost you ten dollars."

   "I don't believe this," she sighed.

   "Somebody out there is worried about you," he said.  "You've been
missing for four days.  Why don't we get you home, so they'll stop
worrying."

   "Why do you think anybody is worrying about me?" she asked.

   "Well, nobody came to see you," he shoved a thumb over his shoulder at
the hospital, "except me.  Ergo, they didn't know where you were.  And that
means they missed you."

   "No," she said, feeling the depression coming back.  "There's nobody to
miss me."

   "Oh," he said.  He looked pointedly at her left hand, where her wedding
and engagement rings were once again in place.  She hadn't been able to
make herself leave them off, even though she didn't feel married any
longer. "Well, at least let me take you home."

   "All right," she said.  "Thank you."

   "Here," he said.  "You didn't have a coat when they took you out of the
car.  He draped his jacket around her shoulders in the cold November wind.
She realized how chilled she was only after the warmth in his jacket hit
her.

   He had been telling the truth.  She saw the car, and the bumper was back
on it.  He opened the door for her, and then got in himself.

   She gave him directions, telling to head out of town on Monroe, which
turned into Highway 52.  Riding with him, she suddenly realized she was
with a strange man, about whom she knew nothing!  She felt a stab of fear.

   "You want to talk about it?" he asked, staring straight forward.

   "About what?" she asked.

   "About why you're married, but nobody missed you?"

   "Not really," she said.

   "That's OK," he said.  "Maybe tomorrow."

   "Tomorrow?  What about tomorrow?" she asked, the fear pulsing in her
veins.

   "Well, the police impounded your car, and you obviously live outside of
town.  I'll come pick you up and we'll go get your car back.  It wasn't
damaged much either.  The bumpers just got hooked together.  I think it
will run OK."

   The thought that BOTH Daniel's and her cars had been impounded by
different law enforcement agencies, in different states, seemed suddenly
hilarious to Renee, and she started to chuckle.  All the stress bubbled up,
past the barriers she had erected to clamp it inside of her, and she
started laughing so hard she couldn't breathe.  That soon turned to sobs,
though, as she felt completely stupid for laughing at something that
wasn't, in the slightest way, funny.  He opened the center console, and
pulled out a handful of napkins, offering them to her.  She took them and
pressed them to her face, crying real tears of grief, mostly for herself,
but still true grief that her life had gone so terribly wrong.

   He pulled over to the shoulder and just sat.  She looked at him,
embarrassed that she'd made such a scene.

   "I didn't want to go too far and pass the turnoff," he said softly. 
"Which way?"

   She pointed straight, and then, just past the city limits, to the left.
Two houses and a mile and a half later she pointed at her house.

   He pulled in and she got out.  She stared at the house.  Everything in
there reminded her of Daniel ...  of their perfect life that had been a
lie. She still had no food, and, until tomorrow, no car.  She suddenly
didn't want to go in.

   "Is there someone in there that might hurt you?" he asked, concern in
his voice.

   "No," she said.

   "I'm not comfortable leaving you here, in your condition," he said. 
"Not alone."

   "What else can I do?" she asked.

   "You could come home with me," he said.  He saw her stiffen.  "No, that
came out wrong.  I live with my mother and three sisters.  Four other
sisters have gotten married and moved out.  We have plenty of room, and you
won't be alone."

   She wavered.  Not being alone sounded so nice.  Was he telling the
truth?

   "You live with your mother?" she asked, clearly skeptical.

   He grinned.  "It's a long story.  Maybe someday I'll tell it to you. 
What do you say?  Home cooked meal ...  nice soft bed ...  women who'll
talk your ear off."

   "Won't your mother be upset?" she asked.  "I mean you can't just bring a
stranger home with you."

   "Why not?" he asked.

   She wavered some more and leaned closer to going with him.  It was
foolish.  It might even be insane.  She didn't know him from Adam.  But
he'd been perfectly nice to her thus far.

   "Let me get something to wear," she said.  "I can't stand these
clothes."

   "I'll be right here," he said.

   It was the fact that he offered to wait in the car for her that tipped
her over the edge.  If he had some kind of designs on her, he'd have wanted
to come inside with her ...  someplace people couldn't see them ...  where
they couldn't hear her if she had to call for help.

   She ran then, wanting to get her clothes and get back out, as quickly as
possible.  She grabbed her own coat, and a change of clothes, and ran back
to the car.  It was warm inside.

   "I thought you'd change in there," he said.

   "I didn't want to be there any longer than I had to," she answered.

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

   Being around Bobby's family was a completely new kind of experience for
Renee.  She had probably had friends in High School and college who came
from families like this, but she didn't know it.  If her attitude toward
people in general had been broken down to its basic components, a large
part of that would have been the assumption that everybody had enough money
to do whatever they wanted to.

   Just the appearance of the old two-story farm house, with faded barns
and outbuildings, and dusty patches of brown grass amongst trees with no
leaves on them seemed foreign to her.  Bobby's seemingly inane chatter,
while he drove her there had been comforting, though she didn't pay that
much attention to what he actually said.  Her mind was still whirling, and
her level of self pity was high.  Now, though, seeing this dismal looking
place where this man lived ...  with his mother ...  made her wish she'd
decided not to come with him.

   All that changed as soon as she walked into the warm, comfortable house,
and was immediately caught up in a whirlwind of feminine solicitousness. 
Not only Mirriam, but Linda, Suzie and even the twins, who were only
sixteen, seemed to sense how desperate this new young woman was.  Bobby's
description of her circumstances sounded completely innocuous, but somehow
the women knew what to do.  Perhaps it was the look on her face, or the
clothing in her arms.  In any case she was taken to a bathroom, where she
could freshen up and change clothes.  She was given a grocery bag to put
her dirty clothes in.

   Then, still off balance from her warm welcome, she was shown rooms,
treasured possessions, even a stuffed animal or two, each with a name and a
tender story attached.  Renee was almost overwhelmed with the level of
attention she was given.  Within an hour, she was seated at the dining room
table where her lackluster attitude toward eating vanished, as she was
served mashed potatoes, beef so tender she could cut it with her fork,
green beans, carrots, and homemade hot rolls that seemed to melt in her
mouth.

   The chatter around that table was inane too, in a sense.  It was about
what had happened that day, or that week, or what might happen in the days
to come.  Events in school were discussed, and she was included in the
conversation as if she was an old friend of them all.  No one probed into
her life.  They just made it clear they were glad she was there, and that
they were eager to get to know her better.

   Twice, during the meal, she put her fork down, blushing faintly, because
she'd been eating like a pig.  The others went on eating, and, eventually,
she picked her fork back up, determined to be more ladylike in her
consumption.

   Several times she looked at the lone adult male at the table.  He wasn't
just sitting there eating.  He joined in the conversation, sometimes giving
an opinion, sometimes teasing one of his sisters, but he didn't hog the
conversation, like the men she was used to being around.  He hadn't sat
next to her, either, which she had expected him to do.  Some social rule in
her head assumed that, since he had brought her here, she was for the
moment "his".  That's what the men she was familiar with would have done.

   She also examined Mirriam, who had a baby sitting next to her in a high
chair that she was feeding, like she was its mother.  The woman had a
healthy, youthful appearance, but she was clearly over forty, and Renee's
assumption was that one of her daughters had had the baby, which she was
caring for.  He was a happy little thing, with black hair, an unruly lock
of which fell forward on his forehead, just like Bobby's.  His hands and
feet were constantly moving, and he gurgled and chuckled, as if he too was
taking part in the casual conversation that never seemed to stop, even
though the food was disappearing at an astonishing pace.

   She watched as that little boy reached constantly towards Mirriam. 
She'd feed him a spoonful of something when he opened his mouth, but his
arms reached for her.  Finally, he got fussy, as if he was frustrated.

   "Oh all RIGHT!" said Mirriam suddenly.  "What in the world am I going to
DO with you?" she complained, without really complaining.  She turned to
her guest.  "I'm trying to wean him, but, like a man, he's not cooperating.
I can take him in the other room if breastfeeding him would make you
uncomfortable."

   Renee blinked.  SHE was breastfeeding?  This was HER baby?

   Renee already knew there was no man around.  Nobody had said anything,
exactly, but it was just obvious that Mirriam was either divorced or
widowed.  No man had been mentioned in any of the conversation.  No
"Where's Daddy, tonight?" or "My husband is out feeding the cows, and will
join us later," or anything like that.

   "I don't mind," came from her lips, actually just an attempt to be
polite in someone else's home.  Simple manners required that she adapt to
their home habits, instead of forcing her own mores upon them.

   Mirriam took her at her word, and casually unbuttoned the dress she was
wearing, to expose the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra.  Slipping the
dress off one shoulder, she reached for the little boy and cradled him in
her arms.  He knew what to do.  That was obvious.  His little hands went to
knead and almost stroke the full, surprisingly young-looking breast in
front of him, and his mouth opened to latch onto a long, stiff, brown
nipple.

   Everything had stopped for a few seconds, as if everyone in the room was
honoring some special moment.  The little boy's delighted gurgling coos as
he sucked and swallowed seemed to fill the room.  Renee was astonished at
how noisy breastfeeding was.  This was the first time in her life she had
ever seen this activity.  Her mind told her this had been going on for
millions of years, but it was so immediate, and so personal, that it
affected her profoundly.  It was something that was both incredibly
intimate and incredibly routine.  While the baby sucked happily, Mirriam
picked up her fork and continued to eat.  That seemed to be the signal that
everything should go on as before, and the conversation burst into the air
again, almost as if someone had pushed "pause" on life, and then pushed
"play".

   Renee watched, out of the corner of her eye, occasionally.  Seeing this
made her have strange feelings in her belly.  At one point, Mirriam pulled
the baby off the breast, and handed him to Bobby, who was sitting next to
her.  Bobby lifted him in front of his face and kissed the little boy's
nose, talking to him, while Mirriam covered the empty breast and exposed
the other one.  Then the little boy attacked that one, his hands grabbing,
almost like Daniel had grabbed at her own breasts when they were making
love.

   Then, after sucking for only a few minutes, he seemed to lose interest
and was put back in his high chair, where he happily played with the tiny
spoon that had been used to feed him.  He banged it on the wooden tray in
front of him, and looked around again, making noises.

   She thought dessert would undo her, because she already felt stuffed
when a big chocolate cake was produced.  How in the world these girls
around her kept their feminine shapes was a mystery, if they ate like this
all the time.  She felt bloated, but the cake looked so good she had to try
some of it.  Somehow, Mirriam must've known that, because the piece she
served Renee was tiny by comparison to that which she doled out to the
others.  It turned out to be just enough for her to enjoy the explosion of
sweet taste, and then let her put her fork down for the last time.

   She leaned back in her chair and sighed.

   After supper, the activity level didn't drop much.  The twins were
working on a 5000 piece picture puzzle, spread out on a card table that was
obviously going to be too small for the finished product.  Someone else
would stop by the table, from time to time, pick up a piece, and put it in
place.  The response was inevitably "I was looking for that piece.  No
fair!" The television was on, but no one was actually sitting and paying
strict attention to it.  Suzie was doing homework, curled up in an easy
chair.  Mirriam, Linda and even Bobby were clearing the table and doing
dishes, but didn't seem in a big hurry to be done with that, and took
breaks to talk to Renee, put a piece in the puzzle, or watch TV for a few
moments.

   Mirriam called out "Who did eggs today?"

   Suzie looked up.  "Oops, I forgot."

   "How am I supposed to feed you in the morning if there are no eggs?"
asked her mother.

   "O-Kay!" sighed Suzie, who closed her book and started to get up.

   "I'll get them," said Bobby.  He turned to Renee.  "Want to help me
wrestle some eggs away from the chickens?"

   Renee had never even seen a chicken.  Not a live one anyway.  All the
eggs she'd ever seen were properly in an egg carton, where she assumed they
mysteriously appeared.

   "OK," she said, not sure why she was agreeing to do this thing.

   She would have forgotten to put on her jacket, if he hadn't put his on
first.  She followed him out, surprised that it was dark already.  She was
nervous as he took her to a little wooden house, and she was surprised, for
some reason, when he reached in and flicked a switch, and a light bulb went
on inside.  She wondered, for an instant, why she had assumed there would
be no electricity out here.

   Then she was terrified, as real, live chickens, sitting on beds of hay,
on shelves, were displayed, and began to squawk and make noises.  Bobby
casually reached under one, which lifted and flapped her wings, standing,
as if outraged.  His hand came back with an egg in it.  Within the space of
a minute, he had five eggs in a basket she hadn't even seen him pick up and
bring with him.

   "You want to try it?" he asked.

   "No!" she gasped.

   "Come on, it's easy.  They won't hurt you."

   "They're alive!" she said weakly.

   "Yup," he said, not making fun of her.

   He basically bullied her into it.  Terrified, she reached out and, like
he was telling her to, slid her hand under a real, live chicken.  She was
surprised at the warmth, and realized that her hand must be cold, though
she hadn't felt the discomfort of that.  She felt around, but nothing was
there.  The chicken got up and walked away, flapping her wings.

   "Dry hole," said Bobby.  "Some of them don't lay every day.  Try the
next one."

   She did it again, and this time came up with an egg.  She was delighted.

   By the time they left, they had a basket with twelve eggs in it, and she
felt like she had accomplished something akin to landing a man on the moon.
She was practically giddy as they walked back in the warm house.  She held
the basket, carefully, as he took his jacket off, and handed it to him as
he assisted her in removing her own.

   "Just take them to Mamma," he said, abandoning her to walk towards the
living room.

   Delivering the eggs to Mirriam somehow turned into a conversation that
turned into something Renee would never quite understand.  Eventually, in
the somehow dim kitchen, warm and well fed, Renee's fears, concerns, and
life story spilled out.  She told Mirriam all of it, astonished at times
that she was sharing such personal information with this woman.  And,
eventually, she found herself engulfed in strong arms, as the woman patted
her hair while she cried.

   This crying, though, was a release, as all the poison that was killing
her seeped into the tears.  It was a catharsis.  At one point she felt like
that baby, being held in Mirriam's loving arms, her face pressed to soft
breasts.

   It was very late when Mirriam took her to a bedroom and put her into a
bed that was indeed soft, though not immediately warm.  Blankets were piled
on top of her though, and she felt warm again almost immediately.  With a
casual "Night," Mirriam turned off the light and stepped out of the room,
closing the door behind her.

   For the first time in months, she slept, deeply and dreamlessly.

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

   In another room nearby, unbeknownst to the relaxed, sleeping young
woman, another young woman was relaxing too.

   Linda was relaxing under the weight of her brother, while Bobby plowed
her horny sexual furrow with his stiff prick.

   "I love this so much," she moaned.  "I think I'm addicted to your
penis." She wiggled her hips, trying to get him deeper.  "Your mouth and
hands too," she added, pulling his lips to a nipple.

   Bobby didn't say anything.  Instead, he went in deep and rubbed in the
way he had learned would make her pop an orgasm.  She wiggled and her pussy
rippled, but he held off cumming.  He wanted to keep going.  When she
caught her breath again, she talked, while he worked on getting her there
again.

   "Renee's kind of cute," she said.  "Is she going to be another one of
your women?  Are you going to fuck her too?"

   "I have no idea," said Bobby.  "She was just in trouble.  I didn't want
to leave her alone.  Something's got her really down."

   "She did seem kind of ...  I don't know, subdued, I guess."

   Bobby slicked in and out of Linda's slippery pussy and sucked one of her
nipples.

   Linda bucked and let another orgasm flow through her.  She felt Bobby
tense, during this one, and he let her nipple pop out of his mouth.

   "Should I pull out again?" he panted.

   Her legs went to wrap around him, in the midst of her orgasm.  She
wasn't clearly into her safe time, but she didn't care, at that moment.  At
that moment, she wanted to feel that wonderful, warm and wet ball exploding
in her orgasming pussy.

   Bobby sighed, and overfilled her young pussy, giving her what she wanted
...  and more.

   Linda should have been more circumspect.  She should have waited another
day or two, before letting her brother fill her with dangerous, active
sperm.

   She would find that out in nine months.  Well, truth be told, she'd find
it out in only ten days, when her period did not rear its ugly head.  But,
for now, she just loved feeling her brother's love squirting into her so
warmly.

   As they rested she wondered, aloud, what was bothering Renee.

   "I don't know," said Bobby.  "She wouldn't talk about it."

   "She's married," said Linda.  "What about her husband?"

   "I don't know," said Bobby again.  "She wouldn't talk about that
either."

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

   That question was answered in the morning, when Bobby got up and went
into the kitchen, and his mother filled him in.

   "I was going to talk to you last night," she said.  "But you'd already
gone to bed.  She's caught between a rock and a hard spot," said Mirriam,
while she made biscuits, and filled him in on Renee's troubles.  By the
time she was done, she was frowning.  "Her husband is gone, for all
practical purposes, and she feels like she can't do anything about that. 
She's had a pampered upbringing, and she's scared to death of her parents
hating her."

   "Why would they hate her?" asked Bobby.  "It wasn't her fault."

   "I know that," said Mirriam.  "And you know that.  She can't see that,
right now.  She's lied to them already ...  and everybody else too,
apparently.  She's feeling pretty worthless."

   "Well, then," said Bobby.  "I'll be her friend."

   His mother looked at him.  Theodore was playing happily in his high
chair, and she looked at him too.

   "Bobby, the last thing that poor girl needs is you in her life."

   He grinned.  "Mamma, I'm shocked you'd feel that way.  I've never hurt a
soul!"

   "I know you, Bobby," she snorted.  "I know how you affect women.  That
girl has enough problems without you upsetting her even more."

   "All I said was that I'd be her friend," he said.

   "And all you said to me was that I deserved to be happy," she said,
looking at Theodore again, meaningfully.

   "Aren't you happy, Mamma?" asked Bobby, stepping behind her and reaching
around to cup her breasts.  With her hands in the biscuit dough she was
helpless, unless she was willing to get flour all over him.

   She was.

   When he finally stepped back, he had flour on his hands, and his shirt
sleeves, and his cheeks.  That, though, was from her holding his face while
she kissed him.

   "I'm VERY happy," she said, when she let him go.  "But her circumstances
are different."

   "I know," he said.  "I'll just be her friend."

   "I'm worried about her," said Mirriam.  "She has nobody to talk to."

   "I told you I'd be her friend," said Bobby.

   "I think I will be too," said Mirriam.  "I'm going to introduce her to
some others too.  When people find out her husband is in prison ...  and
they will find out ...  they'll treat her badly."

   Mirriam was talking about the social difference in the small town of
Granger, where single mothers, divorced women, and, it was likely, women
whose husbands were in prison, were considered lower class by some.  Those
women had, over the years, banded together and formed a social support
network.  It was casual, but sometimes vital to the mental health of the
members.

   "Now, why don't you go wake her up and we'll feed her again.  She hasn't
eaten decently in weeks."

   Bobby didn't think about being sent on that chore, but Mirriam did. 
None of the girls were up yet.  Had they been, she would have sent one of
them.

   "And don't molest her while you do it," she ordered, over her shoulder.

   Bobby wouldn't have thought about molesting the woman, even when he
found her with her covers kicked off, lying in only the shirt she'd changed
into when she'd come to the house the night before.  She hadn't brought a
change of underwear, and her lower body was naked.

   Still sleeping, she looked young, and helpless, except that she was
fully grown.  Her pussy hair was light brown, and sparse, doing nothing to
cover the pouting tight lips that guarded her sex.

   He lifted a blanket, pulled it up to her chest, and then shook her
awake.

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

   Renee woke feeling warm and comfortable and refreshed, for the first
time in a long time.  Then her eyes opened and she saw Bobby.  She felt her
naked lower body, under the blanket, and immediately felt fear.

   "Mamma said to wake you up for breakfast," he said.  Then he turned and
walked out.

   She lay there for a few minutes, thinking about where she was, and what
this was like.  Her fear had vanished, almost as soon as she had felt it.
Her mind classified Bobby as a "nice guy", which was a designation that,
only four or five years ago, would have meant he wasn't in the dating pool.
Nice guys were the guys you had help you with your homework when it really
mattered.  They were the guys you asked to be designated drivers for
parties.  They were big brother types.  She didn't think that was unusual.
He WAS a big brother, to a whole slew of girls.

   She was hungry.

   She sat up and threw the covers off, only to realize that the door to
the bedroom was still open.  She started to cover herself, feeling angst,
but then stopped.  She'd slept in her shirt, but it wasn't all that bad. 
It was wrinkled, but it didn't smell bad.  Not like what she'd taken off.
She was pretty sure she'd just toss those clothes in the trash.  She found
her jeans and, facing the bed, pulled them on, wiggling her hips to get
them over the spread of her flesh there.

   She turned ...  and there he was, standing in the doorway.  He had
obviously watched her pull her jeans up over her naked butt.

   "Sorry," he said, casually.  "I was afraid you might just go back to
sleep."

   She didn't know how to feel.  She didn't feel violated ...  not really.
She knew she SHOULD feel violated ...  but with all the other things that
were wrong in her life, having a nice guy see her butt didn't rank all that
high on the list.  Still, he needed to be put in his place.

   "You might have said something," she said, tightly.

   "I didn't want to startle you," he said, grinning.  "Besides, around
here, I see that kind of thing all the time."

   He was so casual about it.  It was disarming, really.

   "You ready?" he asked, not giving her time to think about it.

   "I need my shoes," she said, looking around.  She couldn't remember
where she'd taken them off.

   "Why?" he asked.  "The floor is warm."

   She thought about that for a few seconds, and then looked at his feet.
He was only wearing socks.  Her upbringing had taught her that you always
arrived at a meal appropriately attired.  Some rebellion inside her oozed
out.

   "OK," she said.  "But if my feet get cold, you have to give me your
socks."

   He laughed, and it made her feel good that somebody would laugh at
something she said.

   "I'll get you different socks, if it comes to that," he said.  "Come
on."

   She followed him to the kitchen, which smelled wonderful.

   Any thoughts she might have had that the atmosphere last night was
something rare, or special, were banished, as, again, she was surrounded by
a family of people who obviously loved each other.  There was plenty of
teasing, but it was all delivered in a way that made her wish some of it
was directed toward her.  The food was good.  She relished eating eggs that
she had helped collect.  Again there was conversation all around, about
what was going to go on that day.

   "How about you?" asked Mirriam, who was breastfeeding Theodore again. 
She hadn't said anything about it this time.  She just did it, as if Renee
was now family.  "What are you going to do?"

   Renee blushed, remembering how she had poured her heart out to this
woman, the night before.  She had told her things she hadn't intended to,
but it was too late now.

   "I don't know," she said.  "I don't know what to do."

   "Well," said Bobby.  "We need to get your car back, for one thing."

   "Yes," said Renee.  "Of course."

   "I can take as much time as we need," he said, eating a piece of bacon.
"I already called folks and postponed the stuff I was going to do today."

   "You didn't have to do that," Renee objected.

   "A man needs a day to play hooky, once in a while," said Bobby, smiling.
"It's no big deal.  I DO have to go do one thing first.  It's kind of an
emergency, but hopefully it won't take long."

   "What's that?" asked his mother.

   "Jill and Christy's plumbing is stopped up again," he said.  "I think
there may be some tree roots involved, and they'll have to get Roto Rooter
out there sooner or later, but they have to have a drain working in the
darkroom."

   "Darkroom?" asked Renee.

   "They run a photo studio at their house," said Bobby.

   "Oh," she said.

   "You can come along for the ride," said Bobby.  "I'll teach you how to
be a plumber."

   "Oh, I could never do that," said Renee, automatically.

   "Oh no," moaned Linda.  "Don't ever say that around him!  Now he won't
leave you alone until you've learned to solder or something."

   There was laughter around the table, but it was the kind of laugher
about a true story, rather than someone being teased.

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

   Renee stood to the side of the door as Bobby rang the bell.  She was,
therefore, not visible to Jill, who opened the door, reached out with one
hand, grasped the front of Bobby's shirt and pulled him into the open
doorway.  She promptly put both arms around his neck and kissed him for a
full minute.  He put his hands on her waist and she, mistaking his push to
mean he wanted to get to her breasts, pulled his hands up to them.  He
finally gave up and kissed her again.

   "I need to get laid bad, Bobby," she sighed, as she finally broke the
kiss.

   Then she saw Renee, standing, staring open mouthed and wide-eyed, at
what had happened.

   "Bobby!" Jill chided him, turning red.  "Why didn't you TELL me you had
somebody with you?!"

   "You didn't give me time," he said, grinning.  "Jill, this is Renee. 
Renee, this is Jill, one of my customers."

   Jill looked at the young woman, who was clearly flabbergasted by what
she'd just seen.

   "He's very good at what he does," she said, trying to salvage her pride.
"I'm ...  um ...  just really happy to see him," she added, getting redder.
"Our pipes are stopped up," she gasped, before turning away and fleeing.

   "Maybe I should just wait in the car," Renee said, her voice dazed.

   "No," said Bobby.  "She was just exaggerating.  Come on in.  You can
help me."

   He bent over and picked up the big bag he'd brought to the door and
stepped back.  Renee stepped hesitantly into the house, and saw another
woman approaching.

   "Hi!" she said brightly.  "I'm Christy.  Jill is hiding in the bedroom.
She said she embarrassed herself to death, and maybe you too."

   "Uh ..." said Renee.  "It's OK."

   The woman turned to Bobby.  "I won't embarrass anybody," she said,
winking at him.  "But I'm glad you're here.  You didn't mention anything
about having an apprentice."

   "She's just along for a very short ride," said Bobby.  "I hope," he
added.  "It's a long story, and not one I want to go into."

   "As long as you fix our pipes, that's all that matters," said Christy.
"You going to need any help?"

   "Nope," said Bobby.

   "Well, you know where everything is, so get cracking."

   "Yes ma'am," said Bobby, and he saluted her.

   She slapped his shoulder and laughed, but then turned around and left
them alone.

   Bobby took Renee to what looked like a utility room, and opened a trap
door in the floor.  A few feet down was dirt.  She could see thick, black
pipes through the hole.  He got into the bag and pulled out a big wrench.
He twirled a little knob on it until it fit a square protrusion on the end
of a pipe and unscrewed a cap.  He then got out a roll of thick cable from
the bag and uncoiled it.  He asked Renee to tend to the excess and started
feeding one end of the cable down into the pipe he had uncovered.  It was
moving along rapidly and then, suddenly, it stopped.  Bobby pushed and
pulled, ramming the end of the cable against something, and it began to
move again.  He pulled it back and forth several times and told Renee to
coil the cable up as he pulled it out.

   She did so, watching her hands become black and slimy, and shuddered,
but kept doing what he'd asked her to do.  When the cable was out, she
realized there was something on the end of it.  There were two wings, and
there were threads of some kind hanging off of them.

   "Yup," he said.  "Tree roots." He wound some wire around the coil, to
keep it coiled up, and stuffed it back in the bag.  Then he replaced the
cap he'd taken off.

   He took her to a sink and turned on the water.  At first she thought he
was waiting for it to get hot, so they could wash their hands, but he
waited long after the water steamed.

   "Looks like it's draining again," he said.  He adjusted the temperature
and washed his hands quickly, stepping back and handing her the soap.  She
scrubbed and scrubbed, but still didn't feel clean.  There were still some
dark smudges on her fingers and palms that she couldn't seem to get off.

   "I have something in the car that will take care of that," he said,
tossing her a towel.

   He walked through the house like he lived there and stopped at a door.
He tapped.

   The woman named Jill opened it.  She saw Renee and blushed again.

   "It's open for now," said Bobby.  "You need Roto Rooter or somebody with
bigger stuff than I have to ream it out.  If it happens more than once a
year after that, I'd recommend digging it up and replacing the pipe."

   "That sounds expensive," she said, ignoring Renee.

   "If we can rent something to dig with and you two help, it will cut the
cost by two thirds," he said.

   "We'll have to look into that, then," said the woman.  "How much do we
owe you for today?"

   "Six tweny-five," said Bobby.  "You want me to put it on your tab?"

   "May as well," she sighed.  "When it gets up to twenty-five dollars,
just let us know and we'll write you a check."

   "OK," he said.

   "Nice meeting you," Jill said suddenly to Renee.  Then she closed the
door.

   They were leaving, and walking by a door that had a red light lit above
it.  The light blinked off, and Christy came out of the room.

   "Are we fixed?" she asked.

   "Yup," said Bobby.

   She seemed to attack him.  "NOW I'll embarrass myself," she said,
kissing him firmly.  "Thank you!" she said, and then moved her mouth close
to his ear.

   Renee barely heard her whisper: "Is she a customer too?"

   Renee jumped when Bobby's hand came down and slapped hard on Christy's
bottom.

   "Mind your own business," he said as she yelped, and rubbed at where
he'd hit her.

   "You'll pay for that!" she said, sticking out her tongue.  "When are you
going to come see the kids?  You've been neglecting them."

   "I've been busy, but I promise I'll spend the weekend with them soon,"
he said.

   "The whole weekend?" her voice rose.  "Oh goody!"

   "Now," he said firmly.  "I have to go.  Renee needs me right now."

   "Oh!" said Christy.  "By all means, then, go!"

   Renee heard the words, but was confused by the tone.  By all that she'd
seen and heard, both of these women had been ...  or were ...  on extremely
friendly terms with this man she had run into.  Women's intuition told her
that those kisses, and Jill's "I need to get laid" comment, were not
unusual between them.  But it didn't make any sense.  All he had come to do
was fix a plugged pipe.  And who were "the kids"?  What confused her the
most was that, with most women who were romantically involved with a man,
the phrase "By all means then, go!" would have been delivered in a scathing
way ...  expressing jealousy or displeasure that he would leave her,
because another woman needed him.  But that wasn't the tone Christy had
used at all.  She had sounded genuinely willing ...  almost eager ...  for
him to leave.

   It couldn't be because the woman knew that Renee DID need his help.  He
hadn't said a word about her problems.  He didn't even KNOW about all her
problems.  His mother did, but not him.  It was almost as if the woman
cared about Renee, and the problems she didn't know Renee had.

   Back in the car, as Bobby steered it towards the downtown area, she
couldn't keep her questions bottled up.

   "What did she mean when she asked you if I was one of your customers?"
she asked.  That had seemed like a strikingly odd thing to ask him,
especially since it was supposed to have been a question Renee didn't hear.

   "I'd rather not discuss that right now," he said, mysteriously.  "You
have enough problems."

   "What do you know about my problems?" she asked.

   "Mamma told me a little bit," he admitted.

   "Why?" Now she DID feel violated ...  like her trust had been abused.

   "She was worried about you," he said.  "She wants me to keep an eye on
you."

   "Oh," said Renee, the indignation she felt seeming to fall apart.  She
had known Mirriam cared, last night, as she sobbed in her arms.  She didn't
know why, but she knew it was real.  She also had an intuitive knowledge
that Bobby cared too.  Again, she had no idea why he would ...  but he did.
For whatever reason, it never occurred to her to point out that she was a
big girl, and didn't need anybody to look out for her.  Perhaps that's
because, deep down, she knew she was a big girl, who DID need someone to
care about her.

   "What did she tell you?" she asked.

   "That your husband is in prison, and that you can't talk to your family
about it."

   "I'm so embarrassed," she moaned.

   "Why?" he asked.  "It isn't your fault.  You didn't know anything about
his activities ...  right?"

   "No!" she blurted out.  "I swear!"

   "You don't have to swear," he said calmly.  "I'll trust your word until
you break it."

   "Thank you," she said, impulsively.

   "You're welcome."

   They drove on in silence, until they reached the police station.

   "They're probably going to arrest me," said Renee, sadly.

   "I doubt it," said Bobby.

   "But I rammed into you," she said.

   "I told them I didn't want to press charges," he said, as if he had
simply said he didn't want anything to drink, when offered it.

   "Why?" she gasped.

   "When I saw you ...  I knew there was some kind of trouble.  I looked at
the damage, and figured I could fix it.  I did.  You said you'd pay me the
twelve fifty you owe me.  What do I need the police to lean on you for?" He
smiled.  "It was an accident ...  right?"

   "Yes," she said meekly.  "But you didn't know I'd pay you."

   "It was only two hours work," he said.  "Why make a big deal about
that?"

   "Why are you being so nice to me?" she asked, suddenly.

   "Why not be nice to you?" he asked.

   "It's just that I'm not used to people being ...  like you," she said.

   "It would be a better world if people didn't hassle each other so much,"
he said.

   He took her in, and had to declare again that he didn't want to press
charges.  They wrote her a ticket for inattentive driving anyway, and told
her she'd have to pay thirty-five dollars to get her car out of the fence
behind the station.  She wrote a check for all the charges, and, while she
was at it, wrote Bobby a check for twelve dollars and fifty cents.  Fifteen
minutes later, another man handed her the keys to her car.  It started
right away.

   "I'll follow you home," said Bobby.  "Just to make sure you make it OK."

   She thought about home.

   "I still need to get groceries," she said.  "That's where I was going
when I hit you."

   "OK," he said.  "Let's go shopping."

   "You don't have to go with me for that," she moaned.

   "You don't know my Mamma," he said.  "I'll have to be able to tell her I
got you home, and that everything was fine, or she'll tan my hide."

   The image of that wonderful, sweet, breastfeeding woman, "tanning" this
big, muscular man's hide, was so humorous that she laughed.  It felt good
to laugh.

   "OK," she said.

   He tossed her things in the store.  He recommended certain brands.  He
pointed out the best values.  He dreamed up meals and recipes while they
shopped.  All in all, he made a game of it, which turned grocery shopping
into something that was fun and light hearted.  When they got to the eggs,
he gave her an education on how smaller eggs with thicker shells were laid
by very young hens, and the larger ones with thinner shells were from older
ones, and tasted better.  There weren't very many of those available, he
said, because older hens didn't lay as often.

   "That's why we have chickens," he said.

   "These will do just fine," she said, holding a carton.  "You've made me
a plumber, but I'm NOT raising chickens!"

   "Your loss," he said, airily.  "I'm just saying ..."

   "Moving on!" she said firmly.

   It wasn't until she got home, and inventoried the mounds of groceries
she'd bought, that she realized she'd gotten MUCH more than she planned,
and that it was probably much better quality than she would have gotten on
her own.

   But that was later, after he left.

   He did follow her home, and started carrying in bags of groceries.  He
didn't gawk at the house, which was much newer and much more nicely
furnished than his own.  She realized, looking around, that it had been
drug money that had made her house so beautiful.  She shivered at the
thought.  He disappeared as she began to unpack the food, and came back
with a handful of mail from the box by the road.  She hadn't even thought
to look in there.

   There was another letter from Daniel.  She opened it, to find that he
was asking her to send him money for cigarettes.  He also complained about
the food.  Nowhere in the letter did it say he missed her, but he did ask
her to hire a lawyer for him, to appeal his conviction.

   She put the letter down to see Bobby leaning against the refrigerator,
arms crossed, looking at her.

   "What?" she asked.

   "Nothing," he said.  "I'm just here."

   "You're looking at me."

   "You're the best looking thing in the room," he said, smiling.

   "You can't possibly be flirting with me!" she gasped weakly, feeling the
fear pushing at her.

   "Absolutely not," he declared.  "If my mother thought I was flirting
with you, she'd ground me for a month."

   "What?"

   "She said I can't flirt with you," he said calmly.  "So please don't
tell her I did."

   "Why would she say THAT?"

   "She thinks you're very vulnerable right now," said Bobby.  "It would be
easy for some guy to take advantage of you."

   "She said that?" Renee blushed.

   "No, but that's what she was thinking," he said.

   "Why did those two women kiss you like that?" she asked, suddenly.  She
blushed harder.  She hadn't meant to ask that, but it was what she thought
about as he talked about his mother, and what she was allegedly thinking.

   "That's very complicated," he said.  "Let's save that for another day,
what do you say?"

   "Why?" she asked, almost upset that he was being so mysterious.

   "Look," he said.  "You have plenty to think about.  You have to make
some decisions about what you're going to do.  You need to be thinking
about that, instead of why women are kissing me."

   "You're saying it's none of my business," she said.  She was used to
getting her way, and was pouting a little.

   "No, I'm saying that you should trust me when I tell you that I have
your best interests at heart.  I'm not trying to butt into your business,
but you obviously can't go on like you were.  You were almost starved.  You
weren't taking care of yourself.  You need to concentrate on that first."

   "I don't know what to do," she said weakly.

   "Well, for one thing," he said, "you need to figure out how you're going
to explain things to your parents."

   "I can't do that," she moaned.  "They'll hate me."

   "Why would they hate you for something you didn't know about, and had no
part in?"

   "Daddy will say I should have known.  Mommy will tell me she raised me
better than to let a man hoodwink me like that."

   "They've said that kind of thing before, huh," he suggested.

   "No," she objected.  "But that's what I'd say if it was one of my
friends."

   "Then you'd be mean," he said.  "People make mistakes in judgment all
the time.  It's part of being human.  He told you lies.  You wanted to
believe them.  You're already older and wiser for it now.  You have to move
on with your life, and lying to people won't get you there."

   "How am I supposed to move on with my life?" she wailed.

   "You get a job," he said.  "You find something to do that you like.  You
make friends, and spend time with them.  You deal with your husband,
whatever form that takes."

   "That's from him," she spat, pointing at the letter she had left laying
on the counter.  "All he wants is money for cigarettes and lawyers and
appeals.  He didn't even say he misses me."

   "Some of all this is his, isn't it?" asked Bobby waving his hand in a
circle to encompass the house.

   "Yes," she said stubbornly.  "But bought with drug money!"

   "Divorce him, then," said Bobby.  "Get a judge to split the assets, give
him his share, and be done with him."

   "I can't do that," she said.  "I'm Catholic.  If I divorce him, I'll be
excommunicated.  My parents would never speak to me again."

   "Talk to them," he said.  "Maybe you're right, but you won't know for
sure until you talk to them.  They're going to find out sooner or later. 
How long is he going to be incarcerated?"

   "Twenty-five or fifty years, or something like that," she said,
miserably.  "And that doesn't even count what the federal government might
do."

   "Then he's not coming back for a long time, if ever," said Bobby.  "You
have to decide what that means for you and him.  You'll be paralyzed if you
don't." He waited for a minute.  "Do you love him?"

   "I did," she said.  "I can't now.  He's a monster!  He sold drugs. 
Drugs destroy people's lives."

   "What if he wins his appeal?  What if he comes home a month from now ...
six months from now?  What if the courts say he was innocent?"

   "He had six HUNDRED pounds of pot in our car!" she yelled.  "It was in
hidden compartments!  He's been to Mexico six times, and never once told me
about it!  I don't CARE if some judge says he's innocent!  He's a drug
dealer, and he lied to me, and we're DONE!"

   "OK," said Bobby calmly.  "That's one decision made.  Now, all you have
to do is work out how to make that official."

   "I can't divorce him!" she almost yelled.

   "Have you talked to a priest about this?"

   "Of course not!" She bristled.  "I haven't talked to ANYBODY about
this!" She looked confused as she realized she WAS talking to somebody
about it.  "People would hate me."

   "I don't hate you," said Bobby.  "Mamma doesn't hate you.  If the girls
find out about it, they won't hate you."

   "You're confusing me!" she yelled.

   "I think you're confusing yourself," he said maddeningly.  "You've
already decided what everybody else will say, and think and believe.  I
think you should let THEM decide what they'll say and think.  You might be
right about some of them.  I don't know.  But I DO know that you'll never
know unless you try to talk to them, and find out for sure."

   "Would you go away now?" she asked, almost angrily.

   "Yup," he said.  "Mamma would like you to come to dinner again, either
tonight, or tomorrow.  What should I tell her?"

   "I'll call her," said Renee, feeling bad already.

   "Don't tell her I flirted with you," he said, writing the phone number
down on a folded brown paper bag.  "Especially that I said you had a really
cute butt."

   She blinked.

   "You never said that!" she said, confused.

   "Exactly," said Bobby, nonplussed.  "I knew you'd understand."

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

   It was after he left that she did the inventory of groceries, and
realized he had subtly managed to get her to buy enough of the right foods
to keep her going for a while.  And, he'd gotten her things that she had to
actually prepare, rather than just heat up, which is probably what she
would have gotten on her own.  She realized that would take time and give
her something to do while she thought about things.

   It also didn't take her long to realize he was right about some other
things.  She couldn't keep this from her parents much longer.  He couldn't
be overseas for the next ten years.  She had no idea what they'd say, but
she knew she had to tell them.

   When the groceries were all put away, all that was left on the counter
was the letter from Daniel.  He did own things in this house.  She didn't
want them anymore.  She didn't want anything that had to do with Daniel, or
his drug money.  She decided on the spot to sell it all, and give him the
money.  What he did with it was his concern.

   Not feeling so helpless, she made some other decisions that were more
comfortable to make than others.  She got in her car and drove to town. 
She parked in the parking lot of the Catholic church that neither she nor
Daniel had ever entered, and went in.  She felt a sense of peace
immediately, and her heart began to slow down.  There was a priest
polishing candlesticks at the altar, and she approached him.

   "Father?  I need to talk to somebody."

   He turned and smiled.  "Certainly.  You wish to confess?"

   "No, not really," she said.  "I have a problem in my marriage."

   "How long has it been since you went to confession?" asked the man.

   She thought, and blushed.  "Several years," she said.

   He smiled.  "Maybe we should talk first, and then you can confess.  It
may take a while for that."

   She didn't take offense.  She couldn't think of anything she'd done, off
the top of her head, but she knew that if she thought about it, she'd
remember things.

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

   When she left the church, Renee Harqart-Zimmerman wasn't quite sure how
to feel.  Elation was there, but she felt bad about that, somehow.  The
elation was because of two things the priest had done.

   First, after he had listened to her whole story, he made a telephone
call to the prison in Santa Fe, asking to speak with the prison chaplain.
He announced who he was, and that he was involved in marital counseling
with the wife of an inmate.

   "Could you tell me what religious preference he put down?" asked the
priest.

   He smiled at Renee while he waited.  "I see," he said, his tone of voice
unreadable.  "Has he requested any services from your office?" Again a
short pause, followed by, "I see."

   He hung up, and looked at Renee.  "Where were you married?" he asked.

   "Las Vegas," she answered.  "We eloped."

   "And you knew nothing about his drug dealing?"

   "Nothing, Father.  I wouldn't have married him if I'd known that!" She
looked down.  "I should have known.  I should have seen the signs, but I
didn't."

   "Where did he say his money came from?" The priest steepled his fingers.

   "He said he was in the import export business," she said.  "He suggested
that his parents were rich.  I never met them, but he said I would later,
after we were married.  I got the impression that his parents might want to
vet me."

   "Vet you?" asked the priest.

   "We were at Harvard," she said.  "A lot of people who send their
children there have ...  standards.  My own parents were furious with me
for marrying this man, when they'd only met him once or twice."

   "I see," said the priest.  "Perhaps, had they had the opportunity to vet
him, as you say, this might not have happened." He smiled, but it wasn't a
mean smile.

   "You're right," she sighed.

   "Children often cleave from their parents too quickly, or too finally,"
said the priest.  "Parents may be a wealth of help and information, even as
you grow older."

   "I know," she said.  "I was impulsive and foolish.  But what can I do
now?  The church doesn't allow divorce."

   "True," said the priest.  "However, this is not a case where divorce is
an issue."

   "Why?" she asked.  "I can't stay married to this man.  He lied to me. 
He's a criminal, who preyed on people."

   "It is my opinion," said the priest, "that you were never married to him
in the first place."

   Her mouth dropped open.

   "He is a Protestant, according to the prison records." He didn't smile.
"Had you tried to be married in the church, this marriage would never have
taken place.  Secondly, he defrauded you, by lying about himself, his
income and, most likely, his family.  Both of those facts are grounds for
an Ecclesiastical Declaration of Nullity to be issued."

   "I don't understand," she said.

   "That is because you didn't go through premarital counseling in the
church," said the priest, mildly chastising her.  "Let me put it this way.
We can apply for an annulment.  If it is granted, the marriage will be
considered null and void ...  as if it never happened."

   "But we had sex!" she gasped.

   "That doesn't matter," he said.  He paused.  "Well, it matters, but only
in terms of confession.  What matters most is that you, as a Catholic, may
not marry a Protestant and your husband may not trick or deceive you into
marrying him.  Had he been truthful, you would not have married him.  That
is what you said, and that amounts to fraud on his part."

   "I can't believe this," she said, amazed.

   "It takes about a year, and there is some expense involved," said the
priest.

   "I have money," she said.

   "Good," he said.  "You can put a donation in the poor box on your way
out.  I want you to come back tomorrow and we'll get started filling out
the documents.  It will be very tedious, but, if you're serious about this
- and I think you should be - then it will resolve your current dilemma."

   "Thank you!" she gasped.

   "Thank God," said the priest, smiling.  "He's the one who made the
rules." He paused.  "Now, as to your confession ..."

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

   When she got home, Renee Harqart, as she was already thinking of
herself, went to get something to eat.  She saw the grocery sack that Bobby
had written his number on.  She took it to the phone with her.

   "Mirriam?" she said, when a woman's voice answered the phone.  "Is that
invitation for dinner still on?"

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

   Renee did not expect there to be others present, when she arrived ... 
not people other than the Daltons.  There were, though.  Apparently this
was a Christmas party, though Christmas was still almost a month away. 
There were half a dozen women there.

   Two of them she recognized as Jill and Christy, the women she and Bobby
had fixed the drain for.  Others, she had never seen before.  All of them
had brought something to contribute to the meal.  Most of them brought
children too.  Four of the girls, daughters of women named Virginia and
Mable, were sixteen or seventeen, the same ages as Mirriam's younger
daughters.  One of the women WAS one of Mirriam's daughters - her oldest -
and two of the children were hers - one a year and a half old, the other
still at her breast.

   Jill had her son, Steven, with her, who was the same age as Mary's older
boy.  Christy had a little girl with her, who was 14 months old.  These,
apparently, were "the kids" that had been mentioned, though Renee still had
no idea why they wanted Bobby to spend time with them.

   A woman with the unlikely name of Tilly had two children with her - a 5
year old boy, and an 18 month old girl.  A woman named Rhonda had a baby,
also still at the breast.  There was a woman about Mirriam's age, who had
twins that were just over two years old.  And, of course, Mirriam's own
baby was there, as were the daughters Renee had already met.

   None of that seemed odd, really.  Renee already knew what a wonderful
woman ...  and friend ...  Mirriam could be, so it wasn't odd that she had
so many friends.  What was puzzling was that, while all her friends looked
so different from each other, most of the children looked like they were
from the same family.  The boys, with one exception, were invariably
black-haired bundles of energy with similar smiles.  There were more blue
eyes than brown ones, among the boys.  The little girls, on the other hand,
looked like smaller copies of Mirriam's daughters, with light brown hair,
though some was straight, and some was curly.  The older girls also looked
like sisters to Linda, Suzie and the twins.

   It looked a little like a family reunion, and that kind of atmosphere
was there too.  Renee worked hard at remembering names, concentrating on
the women, instead of the children, because she couldn't remember both. 
That didn't seem to matter.  She had never felt so welcome, by so many
strangers.  Where, before, she might have shrunk away from some of them,
based on their obvious lack of education, she couldn't do that now.  They
were so homey, like sisters she hadn't known she had, but who had now been
found.  They talked about their troubles, and joys, their successes and
failures, both to each other, and to her, as if she had known them for
years.

   At one point there were three women with a breast bare, all feeding
youngsters who slurped happily and noisily at a nipple.  Mirriam had asked
if that was acceptable to Renee, before.  None of the others did.  They
just fed their babies, without a shred of embarrassment, even though Bobby
was in the room.  At one point, his older sister even called him over to
ask him something, while she was feeding her baby.  Neither of them seemed
to find it odd or embarrassing that his sister's breast was on display
while they talked.

   Mirriam didn't spill the beans.  It was inevitable, though, that one of
these other women would ask the dreaded question: "So, honey, tell me about
your man."

   She wished, at that moment, that she'd already taken off her wedding
rings.  She couldn't though.  Despite what the priest had said, while she
might NOT be married at some future point, she still FELT married, even
though she couldn't accept Daniel as being the man she was married to any
more.  It was both confusing and frustrating.

   "He's not with me ...  at the moment," she replied, unable to think of
anything else to say.  She saw Mirriam look away from her, and start
talking to another woman about what recipe she had used for the pie she'd
brought.

   "Awww," said the woman, whose name was Virginia, "Several of us here
know what that's like.  My own husband went off to war and never came
back."

   "That's horrible!" said Renee.

   "Things like that happen," said the woman.  "It hurt though.  It surely
did that.  I just couldn't deal with trying to find another husband." Just
then her younger daughter came up and said that she and the other older
girls were going out to the barn to jump into piles of hay.  Her mother
nodded, and continued to talk to Renee.

   It wasn't until the woman went off to talk to someone else that Renee
did the math in her head.  The girl, Virginia's daughter, was sixteen,
which meant she was born around 1957 ...  long after the Korean War was
over, and Virginia's husband had been killed.  Who was that girl's father?
And Virginia's older daughter was still in high school, so she had been
born after Virginia's husband was killed as well.  TWO children, with no
husband?

   She looked around.  Virginia was about Mirriam's age.  The only other
women that age were Prudence and Mable.  Mable wasn't wearing a wedding
ring, but had two daughters who looked like Virginia's ...  and also looked
like Mirriam's, now that she thought about it.  How odd.

   She was curious enough to ask Mirriam about Mable and Prudence.  In a
moment of quiet, in the kitchen, she found out Mable had divorced after the
war, and had never remarried, and Prudence's husband had died in 1954. 
She, too, had never remarried.  Mirriam didn't make a big deal about it;
she just gave Renee the information, and said that both women had been
through sad times.  Renee also found out Mirriam was divorced, then, and
had been for almost twenty years.

   That established the fact that, between the three older women at the
party, they had given birth to a total of fourteen children ...  while they
were single.

   Renee was flabbergasted.  Grown women just didn't do that kind of thing!
Young girls made those kinds of "mistakes" ...  not women who knew better.

   Yet, as Renee was enveloped in a swirl of welcome, she was astonished
even further when she decided that it just didn't matter.  She liked these
women, and they appeared to like her.  She'd never had friends like them
before, but that didn't matter either.  She wasn't alone any more.  That,
by itself, made her feel better than she had since moving to this town.

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

   Dinner was bedlam.  The women all fit at the dining room table, but the
children were set up on card tables, and the coffee table.  There were two
high chairs present, but three children who needed one.  Renee found
herself holding Mirriam's son, Theodore, on her lap, while Mirriam tended
the meal.  At the same time, there were children on almost everybody's
laps, at one time or another.  The older girls seemed to be used to taking
care of little ones, and helped there, but it was still a cacophony of
noise as the women tried to talk and the children demanded attention.

   Renee held Theodore in one arm, and ate with the other.  She stared down
at the little boy, who was cooing happily, as if he didn't care who held
him, as long as somebody did.  His hands went to her breast, and he
wiggled.

   "Mirriam!" she yelped.  "I think he's hungry!"

   "I just fed him an hour ago," snorted Mirriam.  "That boy is all man, if
you ask me."

   There were giggles and laughter around the table.

   Renee was staring into the baby's blue eyes, as his mouth opened and
closed right next to her breast, when strong hands swooped in to remove him
from her arm.  She felt the back of Bobby's hand press her breast as he
picked up the little boy, and looked up to see identical blue eyes, and an
identical head of hair, right down to the forelock on the forehead.

   "You're a guest," he said.  "You shouldn't have to put up with that."

   He tossed the baby up into the air and Renee gasped, until, on the way
back down, the laughing little boy was caught by those strong hands.

   "Behave yourself!" he said, putting his face right in the baby's face.

   "Like that will ever happen," said Mary, laughing.  "He's male." There
was a chorus of agreement from the assembled women.

   Something tugged at Renee's subconscious ...  something about the baby
and the man now holding him.  But the tide of noise and conversation kept
her from concentrating, and she began to eat again.

   It was during dinner that the story of how Renee came to be there
finally came out.  The story of her hitting Bobby's car was glossed over by
Bobby, who said it was a simple accident.  No mention was made of her
hospital stay, or the condition she was in when she was brought to this
house for the first time.  The way Bobby told it, it was just a humorous
incident that was no big deal.  Jill complained.

   "She hit my car?"

   "It's not your car anymore," said Bobby.  "You gave it to me, remember?"

   "Well, yeah," said the young woman.  "But I still have feelings for it."

   That got a laugh, around the table.

   Somehow, the subject of her husband came up again.  This time it was
Jill who brought it up.

   "So, what does your husband do for a living?"

   The conversation seemed to drift to a halt, and Renee found eyes looking
at her, curiously.

   "It's ...  embarrassing," she said weakly, and felt her face flush
hotly.

   "She's got some troubles," said Mirriam.  "She might not feel
comfortable talking about it."

   "What man isn't trouble?" asked Mable, trying to lighten the mood.

   Renee thought about what Bobby had said.  She couldn't keep it a secret
forever ...  and these women had been so nice to her ...  so far.  She took
a deep breath, as her heart hammered in her chest.

   "He's in prison," she said, her voice almost a sigh.

   A chorus of "Ooooo" came back at her, but no one looked outraged, or
even shocked.

   "We were only married for two months, when I found out I didn't know him
very well," she added.

   Mirriam's continued attempts to get them to leave her be fell on deaf
ears, and, little by little, it all came out.  Not one of them accused her
of knowing what was going on ...  or being involved.  All of them expressed
horror for her position, and pledged to help her, whatever she needed.

   That shook Renee to her very core.  There was no judgment.  No one said
it must be her fault, or that she was stupid for choosing such a man.  She
felt a huge load lift from her shoulders, and that brought to mind what she
hadn't had time, or opportunity, to share with Mirriam.  Now, she shared it
with all of her new friends.

   "I talked to the priest today ...  in town.  He said that, in the
church's eyes, I was never married at all." She got blank looks.  None of
the other women were Catholic.  "It means I can apply for an annulment. 
It's kind of like getting divorced, except the church will treat it as if I
never got married at all."

   "They can do that?" asked Christy, who looked fascinated.

   "Yes," said Renee.

   "Well that's wonderful, then!" said Mable.  "You'll get to start fresh!"

   "I'm not so sure I want to start again at all," sighed Renee.  "This has
all been pretty hard on me."

   Again, there were comments of agreement and support.  Virginia said men
were basically worthless.  Christy agreed, and then casually added "Except
for Bobby, of course."

   Eyes left Renee, and swiveled to Bobby, who had his fork halfway to his
mouth, and was frozen, wide-eyed.

   "Of course," said three women at once.  The stark tableau of Bobby being
in the spotlight ended.  He blinked, his face turned just a bit darker, and
he put some meat loaf in his mouth.  There was, perhaps, another ten or
fifteen seconds of silence, and then Mary asked Renee what her immediate
plans were.

   "I don't know," said Renee.  "I only found out about Daniel recently.  I
have a degree in early childhood education, but I don't know if there are
any positions open in schools around here or not."

   "I know what you could do," said Jill.  "This town needs a good child
care center in the worst possible way.  I love my little bundle of joy, but
there are times when I need to get some work done, and I'd love to be able
to take Steven to someone I could trust."

   There were excited comments in agreement with her.

   Renee blinked.  She hadn't even thought of using her education that way.
She had a big house.  She liked children.  All the children in this house
made it seem like the place was alive and growing.

   "I'll have to think about that," she said softly.

   "It's a great idea," said Rhonda.  "I know you could do well at that. 
Right now, there are just grandmas, who watch kids from time to time, and
maybe one or two other women who do it for hire.  None of them have more
than one or two children, though, and won't take more."

   "How many children do you think would need that kind of thing?" asked
Renee.

   There were estimates from fifteen to thirty.

   "I couldn't watch that many children by myself," gasped Renee.  "I'd
have to have employees."

   "I need a job!" said one of Mable's daughters, who was standing in the
doorway between the dining room and living room.  One of Virginia's
daughters was with her, and chimed in "Me too!"

   "I suspect there are at least six or seven girls and young women around
who would do fine, as long as they had good supervision," said Prudence. 
"That might just give you something to do, too, to take your mind off your
troubles."

   "There's nothing like having a handful of children around to make you
forget your troubles," laughed Mirriam, obviously joking.

   "Yes," said Renee, thoughtfully.  "But those troubles, in my case, would
go home at night, and leave me in peace."

   "Amen, sister," said Virginia, smiling.

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

   The talk moved on to other things as people began to get full, and
dinner eased to a halt.  The young people organized games with the even
younger people, or played with them, if they weren't old enough to
participate in such games.  The older women were left to chat and relax. 
Renee watched as Tilly seemed to end up beside Bobby, almost by accident,
and leaned down to whisper in his ear.  He got up, and they left the room
together.

   Suddenly curious, Renee moved herself, to where she could see them
standing by the back door.  Tilly opened it, took Bobby's hand, and pulled
him outside.  Neither of them put on a jacket.

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

   Outside, Tilly faced Bobby and took his other hand in hers, holding both
of them.

   "Jake and I are ready for another one," she said, somewhat shyly.

   Bobby grinned.  "You have no idea how happy that makes me," he said.

   She didn't blush.  She had spent too many hours with this man, naked,
straining under him as he made love to her, to be embarrassed.  His
eagerness made her want to start right now.

   "This will be our last," she said.  "Jake says I can kiss you, if I have
to ...  to convince you to help us again," she added softly.

   "Oh really?" asked Bobby.

   She had kissed him exactly twice, during their relationship of five
years.  The first time was when she cut him off, saying that Jake could
make love to her from then on.  Then they had found out that Jake couldn't
father children because of his accident.  They were so happy with the first
child Bobby had fathered in her that they asked him to make her pregnant
again.  She had kissed him again, when she told him she was pregnant that
time ...  and cut him off again.  In truth, there had been special times,
when Bobby was invited to the house, between pregnancies, and she spread
her legs for him then.  But she never kissed him, other than those two
times.

   "Gee, I don't know if I really want to make you pregnant again or not."
He grinned.  "Can I have some time to think about it?"

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

   Renee maneuvered herself out of the dining room.  No one was in the
kitchen, and the entry way was dark, so she slipped in there.  She peeked
through the gap between the curtain and the window in the back door.  She
could see Bobby and the woman standing in the light of the yard light.

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

   "No, you can't," said Tilly, pulling him toward her.

   His arms went around her, and her arms slid up his back, to his
shoulders.  Her lips reached up, and she stood on tiptoes, to press her
lips against his.  It was a lover's kiss.  Anyone could see that, and Renee
was no exception.  She had seen girls kiss boys like that at parties, and,
as she now saw, she had seen those boys' hands slide down to cup the girls'
bottoms and pull the girls against them.

   Renee's stomach felt funny.  This reminded her of the way Christy had
kissed him, at her house, though she hadn't been quite as sensual about it
as Tilly was being.  Tilly loved this kiss, and it was obvious.  Jill's
mournful "I need to get laid bad, Bobby," popped into her mind.  But THIS
woman was married.  She had mentioned her husband ...  or one of the other
women had asked her about him, one of the two.  She couldn't remember now.

   What was going on?

   Bobby was handsome.  She knew that, in the way any woman notices a
handsome man.  And he was friendly.  But this?

   She felt someone behind her, and turned to see it was Bobby's older
sister, Mary.  Mary leaned toward the window and looked out.  She sighed.

   "I don't think you were supposed to see that," she said softly.

   "What's going on?" asked Renee helplessly.

   "It's complicated," said Mary.  "It would take longer than we have now
to explain it to you, and even then, you might not understand.  Anyway,
it's too soon for you to delve into that.  You have enough problems without
trying to figure Bobby out too."

   "I don't understand," moaned Renee.

   "Bobby helped Tilly and Jake," said Mary, recognizing that Renee needed
to know something ...  maybe just a little.  "They were in a terrible way,
and he helped them both.  She's just very appreciative of that.  That's
really all I can tell you.  It's not what it looks like."

   "How can it be not what it looks like?" gasped Renee.  She glanced out
the window again.  "They're still kissing!"

   "All I can tell you is that, if Jake were here, he would not be unhappy
about this, OK?  You have to understand that there are complicated things
going on.  They may not make sense to you, but I know there is nothing
wrong or hurtful going on out there."

   Mary sounded so sincere, and so calm about it, that Renee just chose to
believe her.  It DIDN'T make sense ...  but everything she had seen about
this family told her they were good people.  She wanted to believe they
were good people.  She wanted to believe Bobby was a good man.  So, she
just tried to believe that.

   Marry tugged at her arm, and pulled her into the light of the kitchen.

   Renee turned to face her.  "Christy ...  she kissed him too."

   Mary looked pained for a few seconds.  "You may see other women kiss
him, like that," she said, finally.  She had a doubtful look on her face.
"He's helped a lot of people.  He has a ...  special kind of relationship
with some women."

   "He has more than one girlfriend?" asked Renee, trying to fit this into
a framework that she could understand, based on her own experience.

   "They're not his girlfriends," said Mary, frowning.  "I shouldn't be
telling you any of this!"

   "Why not?" asked Renee.  "I like you.  I like your family.  Bobby has
been nice to me.  I just want to understand."

   Mary tried again.  "Have you ever broken up with a boyfriend, but still
liked him?"

   "No," said Renee.  If you broke up with a boy, it was because he wasn't
worthy of your love.  If he broke up with you, it was because he was stupid
...  and wasn't worthy of your love.  It was just the way she thought.

   "Well, trust me, it can happen," said Mary, frustrated.  "It's kind of
like that.  Women seem to fall in love with Bobby easily ...  but they
don't want him for a boyfriend." She stopped and sighed.  "I'm not
explaining this well at all," she moaned.  "I can't explain this to you. 
You'll just have to ask Bobby about it."

   "I can't just ask Bobby why women kiss him all the time!" said Renee.

   "Sure you can," said Mary.  Her voice was confident when she said that.
"He may not tell you, but you can ask him.  That won't bother him at all."

   "This is just so strange," moaned Renee.

   "Honey, you have no idea how strange it is around here," sighed Mary.

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

   Renee went with Mary back into the chaos that was the Dalton household,
that night.  Tilly showed up, shivering from being outside in the cold
without a coat.  Bobby came in right behind her, as if being outside with
her was completely normal.

   Renee talked less, after that, and watched more.  Bobby spoke with all
of the women.  He didn't spend as much time with Mable and Virginia, but he
talked to Prudence for fifteen minutes.  The younger women all talked to
him too, either seeking him out, or responding to him when he came near
them.  Most of the night he was holding a child.  It was different
children, often those associated with the woman he was talking to at the
time.  The children all seemed to know him.  The toddlers reached for him,
and the babies relaxed in his arms when he held them.  At one point she
overheard Tilly's five year old son call him "Uncle Bobby" and ask him when
he was going to make him a toy of some sort that had apparently been
promised.

   She grew more and more puzzled.

   Her attempts to get him alone, to ask him questions, met with abject
failure.  There was always someone else around, vying for his attention. 
He was polite to her, as usual, and friendly, but he was that way with all
of them, really.

   Linda brought out a record player and put on a record.  Mirriam and
Mable danced together, as if it were normal for two grown women to dance
together to rock and roll tunes.  Jill captured Bobby first, and, as
another record was played, and then another and another, he was shuffled
from woman to woman, while the other women danced with each other.  Even
his sisters demanded a dance, with the exception of Suzie, who sat, somehow
reading a book, amid the exultation surrounding her.  It was clearly a
party ...  a celebration ...  even though there was nothing that Renee
could see to celebrate.

   She found Linda standing beside her, at one point.

   "You should ask Bobby to dance," said the girl.  "He likes you."

   Renee turned an astonished look at the girl.

   Linda laughed.  "It's no big deal.  He won't do anything you don't want
him to do."

   That seemed like a singularly odd thing for a high school senior to say
about her brother.

   As if her comment had been overheard, though, Bobby appeared in front of
her at the end of that record.

   "Nobody's dancing with you," he said.  "That's not fair, now is it?"

   A new record started, and he held out his hand.

   This one was a slower kind of song.  She recognized it as Bette Midler's
version of "Do You Want to Dance?" and suddenly found herself in Bobby's
arms, pressed against him.  He felt very strong.

   "Are you having a good time?" he asked.  She could feel his hot breath,
close to her ear as he tried to talk to her without speaking loudly.

   She shivered, and pulled her head away from him, looking up into those
blue eyes.  Her frustration and puzzlement made her say things she probably
wouldn't have, if she'd had time to think about them.

   "I saw you kissing Tilly," she said.

   "Oh," he said.  That was it ...  just "Oh."

   "Christy kissed you too, and Jill said she needed to get laid."

   "True," he said, his face maddeningly calm.

   "Why?" she asked.

   "Why do they kiss me, or why do they tell me when they need to get
laid?" he asked back.

   She tightened, and felt his arms tighten in return.  She could break
away from him ...  she knew that somehow ...  but it would make a scene.

   "OK, why do they kiss you?"

   "You just won't let that lie, will you?" he said.  His face remained
impassive.  "They like to kiss me," he said.  "I like to kiss them too."

   "That's not an answer," she said, her face flushing.

   "Just think of it as flirting," he suggested.

   She thought about how he had flirted with her.  He had seen her naked
butt, and then told her later it was cute.

   "If you don't answer my questions, I'm going to tell Mirriam you flirted
with me," she threatened.

   "For a new friend, you sure are a pain in the butt," he said calmly.

   "Is that what I am?" she asked.  "A friend?"

   "Of course," he answered immediately.

   "And these other women ...  are they your friends too?"

   "Of course," he said again.

   "Are you going to try to kiss me too?"

   "Of course not," he said, as if it was perfectly logical.  "Why, do you
want me to?"

   "No!" she yipped.

   "Well, there you go," he said.  She wanted to scream.

   He suddenly whirled her around, in time with the music, which she hadn't
even been listening to.

   "Dance with me now," he said into her ear.  "I'll answer your questions
tomorrow, OK?"

   Somehow, she believed he really would, and somehow, that soothed her
curiosity.

   "OK," she said.

   "If you open a child care center in your house," he said, suddenly
changing the subject, "you'll need to do some remodeling.  I could help
with that."

   "Oh," she said, her mind trying to switch to the new subject.  She
hadn't had time to think about that.

   "Maybe when I come over to answer your questions, we can talk about that
too," he said.

   Then, before she could answer, the song was over, and she found herself
standing apart from him.  She felt strangely alone, for some reason, now
that his arms weren't around her.  One of the twins - she couldn't tell
which one - claimed him for the next dance, which was also slow.

   Renee watched as his little sister hugged him closely, dancing like she
was dancing with some handsome young man at school, instead of with her big
brother.  She was distracted from that by Virginia, asking her if she
wanted to play cards.  By the time she was seated, and the game was
explained to her, the song was over and more rock and roll music was put
on.

   Eventually, the babies were put down in dark bedrooms, and the young
ones finally quieted down, as the older girls began to tell them stories.
Bobby disappeared completely.  She wondered if he was avoiding her.

   Renee left late, even then she was one of the first to go.  She decided
to leave because she was yawning, and didn't want to get too sleepy there,
with what seemed like a long drive ahead of her.

   As she drove home, she thought about what had happened there, that
night. She had been welcomed, by nice women, who didn't care that her
husband was a drug dealer and in prison.  They had suggested a way she
could support herself, which, with her trust fund, wasn't really critical,
right now, but would give her something to do.  At least she wouldn't have
to go crawling back home.

   Looking at it rationally, things were looking up for her.  She felt MUCH
better than she had just a few short days ago.  She still had the church to
deal with, and her parents to face, but that didn't seem so daunting any
more.  Her mother and father would still be unhappy, but if the church said
she wasn't married, then there wasn't much they could say about it.  At
least there had never been a big church wedding.  For all she knew, her
mother had been keeping her marriage a secret, so it could be announced
with grandeur and ceremony.

   Still, as she walked into her empty house, she felt pangs of pain.  She
had gotten used to having a man in her life.  Those disturbing kisses that
Bobby kept getting ...  she had gotten those ...  passionate kisses ... 
and what came afterwards.

   She lay in bed.  Jill had definitely said "I need to get laid, Bobby."
Was Jill sleeping with him?  Was Christy?  Was Tilly?  If they were ... 
and that seemed insane ...  what did that mean?

   He had looked at her naked bottom ...  watched her wiggle into her
jeans, without underwear.

   He had said she had a cute butt.

   It took a while, but eventually she drifted off to sleep.

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

   She got up early, feeling refreshed.  She ate some cereal, and hopped in
the car to go meet with the priest.  She wanted all this started and well
underway before she had to face her parents.

   Four hours later, feeling drained from answering all the questions, and
writing all the statements, and filling out all the forms, she dragged her
feet out of the church.  There would be more, the priest had said.  He'd
let her know when that needed to happen.  Getting married had been a
breeze. Getting an annulment was going to be a lot of work.  She laughed,
suddenly.  It was supposed to be the other way around.  Making a marriage
work was supposed to be hard work.  Getting a divorce, while distasteful,
was something lawyers did for you.

   As she drove into her driveway, she remembered Bobby, and how he had
said he'd come over and answer her questions.  She didn't expect that to
happen.  Whatever was going on, he didn't want to talk about it.  Neither
did anyone else, for that matter.  He'd continue to dodge her, until she
forced him into it.  She wondered why she even cared.  What did it matter
if Bobby kissed every woman in sight?  It wasn't any of her business.

   She heard the phone ringing as she tried to unlock the door.  She had no
idea who it could be, but felt the urgency to answer it.

   "HELLO!" she shouted as she snatched up the receiver.

   "Well," said a male voice.  "You're there after all." She recognized
Bobby's voice.

   "I had to go be interviewed by the priest," she panted.

   "Oh," he said.  "I didn't know.  I've been calling you all morning."

   "You have?"

   "I thought we were going to talk about the childcare center," he said.

   "Oh ...  yes," she said.  "I haven't really thought about it."

   "Well, I guess we could do that later," he said.

   "NO!" she almost shouted.  Her mind was at odds.  It was none of her
business.  But she had to know.  This was her chance.  If she let him go
now, who knew when she'd see him again.  "You said you'd answer my
questions."

   There was silence for long enough that she said "Hello?"

   "I'm here," he said.  "You still have any of that food we went shopping
for?"

   "Of course," she said.  It had only been yesterday, and there had been
fifteen bags of food!

   "Fix us something for lunch," he said.  "I'll be over in half an hour."

   "OK," she said.  "Bobby?" She was about to tell him it was none of her
business.

   She was talking to a dead phone line though.

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

   She didn't know why she was so nervous.  He was a nice guy.  She liked
his family.  They had, for all intents and purposes, invited her to a party
at their house.  She could always just admit that he had no obligation to
tell her anything.  He had been nothing but nice to her.  The salad and
sandwiches were ready.  All they had to do was sit and eat and talk.

   She wondered why she was so nervous then.

   She heard the car door slam and went to the front door to open it.  He
bounded up the steps with energy she was jealous of.  He smiled, and again,
she noticed how handsome he was.

   "I'm starved," he said.  "Food first, and questions later, OK?"

   She was about to tell him he didn't have to say anything, but a little
voice in her head said "Shut up!"

   He didn't just eat.  He picked up the salad, and a fork, and walked
around, eating and talking.  He pointed to a wall that could come out, to
make a big play room.  He told her where a nursery could be built, and a
bathroom, just for the children.  He made it sound so easy.  Move this,
build that there, open up this area, and presto, you have a place for ten
or fifteen children to play and learn and be taken care of.  It could even
be done and retain the dining room and kitchen as a space where she could
entertain.  The living room would have to be smaller, but even so, the way
he described it, someone walking through the front door would never know
that it wasn't just a house.

   He wolfed his sandwich, but turned down another.

   Then he just sat, and looked at her.

   "You don't have to tell me," she said, weakly, feeling the weight of his
eyes on her.

   "I know," he said.  "But it will eat at you, and, even though I don't
know you all that well, I know you'll keep wondering and eventually find
out.  I'd rather you hear it from me, instead of someone else."

   That sounded ominous.  For a few seconds, a new scenario flashed through
her mind.  Bobby had some dread disease ...  a brain tumor or something. 
He was going to die, and everyone felt sorry for him.  His friends were
missing him already.  Then Jill's moan of "I need to get laid bad, Bobby,"
rang in her ears again.  Even if he was going to die, they wouldn't do THAT
for him.

   He suddenly started talking, and she didn't have to ask any questions at
all.

   "People's lives are complicated," he said.  "Look at your own situation.
You were gloriously happy, and then something terrible happened, and it
tore your life apart.  You hit bottom, and thought there was no way out. 
But then you found out that things could get better, and you don't feel so
bad anymore."

   She nodded.

   "That's all based on your perceptions, and the options you see open to
you, at any given time," he said.  "Sometimes, you aren't aware of options
you have, and, when somebody points one out to you, it can change your life
for the better."

   She nodded again.

   "You were in love," he said, "and that fell apart."

   He stopped, and waited.

   "I don't love him anymore," she said, feeling like she had to say
something.

   "That's true," said Bobby.  "But the fact is that you still miss the
closeness of being in love ...  the connection to another person ...  the
intimacy that you were used to.  You can't lose that and not miss it."

   "I haven't had time to miss it," she lied.  She wondered why she was
lying to him.

   "That's why I didn't want to answer your questions," he said.  "I'm not
sure you'll understand what I'm going to tell you, and you may hate me
after you hear it."

   "Why would I hate you?" she said.  "You've been so nice to me."

   "You may see that through different colored glasses, when I tell you,"
he said.

   "I don't understand," she moaned.

   "You will," he said softly.  "At least I hope you will."

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

   Renee was still sitting at the table.  The dirty dishes were still
there. She stared at the fork he had eaten his salad with, lying there,
looking normal.

   He was gone, now, and she was alone with her thoughts.

   Her thoughts were jumbled ...  crazy ...  what he'd said was crazy.

   He'd told her that sometimes a woman needed the connection, and intimacy
of a relationship, but didn't have a man to have the relationship with. 
She understood that.  What she didn't understand was how a woman might not
WANT to have a man ...  a traditional man ...  a boyfriend or husband ...
to have that connection and intimacy with.  How could a woman want to just
have sex with a man ...  and not love him?  That was what didn't make
sense.

   She realized, with some horror, that he was a prostitute!  A male
prostitute!  What did they call them?  Gigolos ...  that was it.  Bobby
Dalton was a gigolo!

   She knew something of gigolos.  Some of her friends in college had hired
...  escorts ...  that was what they called them ...  to go to certain
parties and events.  She'd never understood why they did that.  Some of
them even had boyfriends, but they hired men to fly away with them to New
York City, or Philadelphia, or the Capitol.  These mysterious events were
secretive and she'd never been invited to one.  They were hush hush, very
exclusive, and held at places like the Playboy mansion.  It had all seemed
so strange back then, to an innocent college girl.

   But that didn't make any sense at all, when she thought of Bobby Dalton.
He wasn't like the men she'd seen ...  slick ...  suave ...  dressed to the
nines, and smiling with a smile that had made her want to go soak in a tub
of clean water.  The man who had just told her these awful things wasn't
like that at all.  She LIKED him!

   That caused her further pause.  COULD she like him?  How could she like
a man who accepted money or favors for sex?  He hadn't actually said that
women paid him, but the inference was there.  He'd said he was "hired"
sometimes ...  to give a woman what she needed, if she had no man in her
life ...  or that man couldn't provide what she needed.  How could she like
a man like that?

   Her very first thought, as the horror spilled out of him, was that he
had targeted HER to add to his ...  stable of women.  Hadn't he said
something about her being vulnerable?  He had.  She'd remembered that
distinctly, but before she could remember the context in which he'd said it
her mind had been assaulted by other things he'd told her.

   And yet, as she sat there alone, it was obvious he had NOT targeted her.
He hadn't had to tell her anything.  He could have stonewalled her.  Her
threat to complain to his mother that he'd flirted with her was baseless
and she knew it.  She had not, after all, closed that door as she got
dressed.  He had the perfect right to be where he was as she brazenly
exposed herself to him.  That's what it would look like to the mother of a
gigolo.

   And that was another thing.  Mirriam Dalton was the kindest, sweetest
woman she'd ever met.  It was impossible that she knew what her son was
doing, or would tolerate it, if she did know.

   Yet, that didn't work either.  Mary obviously knew.  If his sister knew,
it would be impossible to keep secrets like that.  And the women were so
easygoing about their affection for him.  They didn't really try to hide
it. All of them had danced with him, and had obviously loved doing it. 
Christy had kissed him right in front of a stranger!

   She didn't know what to think.  None of it matched her perception of
what a gigolo was like ...  or supposed to be like.  A sudden image popped
into her head.  Bobby was on television, in his jeans, boots and that old,
faded checkered shirt she had first seen him in.  He was on that awful show
called Hee Haw.  Bobby, the redneck gigolo.

   She giggled, and then laughed, but then, suddenly, it wasn't funny
anymore.  He wasn't like that either.  He wasn't a joke.  He was a real
man, a man she now knew, and had thought was a friend.  WAS he a friend? 
He'd certainly acted like one.  In fact, he hadn't done anything untoward,
other than comment that she had a cute butt.  Any man could be expected to
say something like that.  Most didn't know when to STOP saying things like
that.

   She felt torn in half.  She had to admit that she liked him.  At the
same time, she was horrified by him.  She knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt
that he had looked at her as a woman ...  evaluating her ...  sexually. 
Just being male guaranteed that, and he was a gigolo on top of that!

   But he hadn't hit on her.  He hadn't exploited her vulnerability.  He
hadn't exploited her wealth either.  All he had done was help her get a
grip on her life.  He was even responsible for her seeing the priest who
was going to make her horrible mistake go away like magic.

   Her mind twisted as she tried to think of him as some kind of bad man
... and couldn't.

   All she could see him as was what he had acted like ...  a gentleman.

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

   On Pearl Harbor Day, a day that was still subdued in America in those
days, there was cause for celebration when Amanda went into labor and
delivered an eight pound nine ounce baby boy, with coal black hair and blue
eyes.

   She would forever think that it was the excitement of sucking her
father's erection that caused her water to break.  She would also admit,
later, that she panicked.  She apologized to her father for abandoning him,
and drove herself to the hospital, still in her soaked sweat pants.  Once
there, and in labor, she asked a nurse to call Rodney, who came to the
hospital and stayed with her for a couple of hours.  She elected drugs,
which made the labor a bit less frightening for her.  She somewhat
unabashedly asked Rodney to call Bobby and tell him what had happened, thus
confirming, in Rodney's mind, his and the rest of the station staff's
suspicions about who had gotten her pregnant.

   Bobby got there an hour before she actually delivered.  The nurses
giggled as Amanda alternated between telling him how much she loved him,
and cursing him for doing this to her.

   Afterwards, as she held their son, who she named Michael Scott - her
father's and grandfather's middle names, respectively - she was overcome by
awe that she had produced this perfect, tiny thing that she already loved
more than life itself.

   "Thank you," she said to Bobby, who had waited throughout her delivery
and recovery.

   "Oh, believe me," he smiled, "it was my pleasure."

   "I know," she said, looking at him through lowered eyelashes.  "I always
felt so good when you made it so clear that you wanted me as much as I
wanted you."

   "Maybe we can do it again some time," he said, grinning.

   "Maybe," she said softly, holding the tiny fingers of her son.

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

   On the 20th of December, Bobby was in the hardware store, buying hinges
for a job, when he saw Paul Engle walk in.

   "Paul," he called out, smiling.  He walked over to him.

   "Bobby," said Paul, looking shy, for some reason.

   "How's college?  You home for the holidays?" asked Bobby.

   "School's fine, I guess," said Paul.  "I didn't really want to come
home, but I didn't want to stay there alone.  Most everybody else went
home." He looked sad.  "I just got here today, and already my dad has put
me to work."

   "What are you talking about?" asked Bobby.  "Of course you want to be
here, with your family, for Christmas!"

   "I guess," said the young man, morosely.

   "Come on," said Bobby.  "Don't tell me you're still pining over my
sister.  With all those babes at college?"

   Paul looked at Bobby steadily.  "I don't want them," he said.  "I don't
know how to talk to them anyway." He looked pained.  "Is she OK?"

   "Linda?" asked Bobby.  "She's OK, I guess."

   "Is she ...  does she have a boyfriend?" asked Paul.  It was obvious
that he hated asking the question.

   "Nope," said Bobby.  "She's still pining for you too."

   The casually made comment electrified Paul.  "Really?" he asked, excited
for the first time.  "You wouldn't shit me, would you, Bobby?"

   "She's a stubborn woman, Paul," said Bobby.  "She's one of the most
stubborn women I know, but she loved you then, and she still does, whether
she'll admit it or not."

   "But she's not going out with guys?" asked Paul anxiously.

   "She hasn't gone on a single date since you left," said Bobby.  He
didn't want to admit to Paul that she hadn't had to go out.  Bobby was
fucking her long, deep and continuous, about every other night.

   "Oh man!" sighed Paul.  "Oh man," he repeated.  "I was so stupid to let
her go!"

   "You got plans for tonight?" asked Bobby.

   "I can't ask her out again," said Paul, looking terrified.  "She said
she never wanted to see me again."

   "Then she can eat somewhere else," said Bobby.  "I'm inviting you to
dinner."

   "Really?" Paul's voice rose a complete octave.  "Why?"

   "She's miserable, Paul," said Bobby.  "She was a bear for weeks after
you left.  She's better now, but I know if she finds out you're home,
she'll get all worked up again.  Why don't we just get it over with?  Come
to dinner tonight at the house."

   "You think I should?" asked the boy, completely flummoxed.

   "You said yourself you were an idiot to let her go," said Bobby.

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

   Bobby tipped off his mother, of course.  She was thrilled.  She liked
Paul too.  She went the extra mile for dinner, as a result, and it was
noticed.

   "Somebody coming to dinner?" asked Betty, as she was shooed away from
the hot rolls.

   "Yes," said Mirriam.

   "Who?" asked the girl.

   "Never you mind," said Mirriam.  "Check the roast.  It should be done by
now."

   "I'm nothing but a slave," moaned the sixteen year old girl.

   She jumped as Bobby slapped her on her right butt cheek, sneaking up
behind her.

   "Get to work, slave!" he ordered.

   "Owww, why'd you do that, Bobby?" she complained.

   Bobby ignored her and picked up a hot roll, biting into it.

   "How come HE gets a roll and I don't?" she complained to her mother.

   "It's HIS guest coming over ...  that's why," said her mother, grinning
at Bobby.

   "Is it a girl?  Do you finally have a girlfriend, Bobby?" Betty grinned.
No one had tried to hide anything from the girls.  Betty and her twin
sister might be the youngest Daltons, but they were just as smart as the
older ones.  They hadn't asked any questions, because, to be honest, they
didn't really care all that much, but it was obvious that there were a
number of women who liked Bobby, and didn't mind if people in the house
knew that.

   "I have too many girlfriends already," said Bobby.  "I can't pick one.
It's like all the girls in the whole town want me.  I'm exhausted, just
trying to keep away from them!" He sighed, hamming it up and acting
frustrated.

   "You're so full of bull," said his little sister.

   "Language!" barked Mirriam.

   "Well he is," whined Betty.  Then, like a lot of young women, she
changed tactics, going up to her brother and putting her arms around his
neck.

   "So who is it?" she asked, sweetly.

   "Nobody for you," he said, picking her up with his hands around her
waist.

   "Help!" she yelped.

   He moved her to the stove and set her down.

   "Check the roast, like your Mamma told you to," he growled.

   Linda wandered in too, and noticed the festivities, but just assumed
that it would be Prudence, or maybe that new woman, Renee, again.

   "Smells good," she commented.

   "You won't want to eat anything," said Bobby.

   Mirriam turned around.

   "You hush up Bobby!" she ordered.

   "Why?" asked Linda.  "What's going on?" She grew wary.

   "Bobby has a guest coming for dinner," said Betty, closing the oven
door. "It's ready, Mamma."

   "Well then take it out, dear!" said her mother sharply.  She looked at
her watch.  "Hurry up, it's almost time."

   "Time for what?" asked Linda, still trying to figure out what was going
on.

   "Never mind," said Mirriam.  "Go get your sisters."

   She had just left the room when Bobby heard a car door slam outside, and
went to the back door.  Paul was there, looking very nervous.

   "Just wait here for a minute," said Bobby.  "We want to surprise her."

   "I don't think that's a good idea," said Paul, doubtfully.  "She doesn't
much like surprises."

   "We'll play it by ear," said Bobby.  "Trust me."

   "OK," said Paul, and sat down on the wooden steps.

   Bobby went back in and whispered to Mirriam, who nodded.

   Susie came in and sat down, still reading a book.  Bobby loitered by the
door, and when Linda came towards him with Matilda in tow, he stepped in
front of her.

   "Go on, Matilda," he said.  "I need to talk to Linda privately."

   "What's going on?" asked Linda, trying to peek into the kitchen.

   "Nothing," said Bobby.  "I invited someone to dinner, and I want you to
behave yourself," he said.

   "Why wouldn't I behave myself?" she asked.

   Bobby pinned her to the wall and kissed her.  She stiffened, but then
habit took over and she kissed him back.

   "None of that, for instance," he said, grinning, when he pulled back.

   "You know I wouldn't do that at dinner!" she whispered.  "What in the
world is wrong with you?"

   "I just want you to make a good impression on my guest," he said.

   "OH MY GOSH!" came a squeal from the kitchen, followed by very audible
"SHHHH" noises, and "Be quiet!" from Mirriam.

   "I guess he's here," said Bobby.

   He stepped aside, and Linda lurched away from the wall, to see who was
there.  She stepped into the doorway, and saw Paul, already seated, right
next to her mother.  Her sisters were spaced all around the table.  There
were two chairs left, one across the table from Paul, and one right next to
him.

   She realized her mouth was open, and closed it with a snap as Bobby
walked by her and took the chair ...  next to Paul.

   "BOBBY!" she growled, almost yelling.

   He looked over his shoulder.  "Oh, hi, Linda.  This is Paul.  He's a
friend of mine.  Paul ...  Linda.  Linda ...  Paul.  I'm starved.  Let's
eat."

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

   Whatever they all expected to happen, including Paul, they did not
expect Linda to walk over to Paul, say "Stand up!" and pull his chair back
for him.  It is doubtful that anyone, particularly Paul, expected her to
then turn to Bobby, lean down, and kiss him on the lips.  She slid her
tongue into his startled mouth, to boot.  Then she dragged Paul out of the
kitchen, without a word.

   "Where's she taking him?" asked Matilda.

   Bobby leaned back, rocking his chair back on two legs, and looked out
the doorway.  He looked at his mother, with one eyebrow raised.

   "Looks like she took him to her room," he said.  His comment was
punctuated by the slamming of a door, in the direction of the kids'
bedrooms.

   Matilda and Betty both jumped up, as one.  "I gotta hear this!" said
Matilda, excitedly.

   "SIT DOWN!" ordered Mirriam.

   "Awww, come on, Mamma," complained Matilda.  "I bet she's yelling at him
something fierce!"

   "You will NOT intrude on your sister's private conversation!" said
Mirriam, getting up.

   "Where are you going, Mamma?" asked Betty.

   "Never mind!" snapped Mirriam.  "Eat your dinner!"

   Bobby got up too.

   "Now, Mamma," he said, a note of warning in his voice.

   "That is no way to behave at dinner!" said Mirriam, her voice hard.  "I
don't care HOW mad she is at him for showing up like that, I expect her to
be polite!"

   "Mamma, they're just probably talking," said Bobby, following her up the
hall.  He grasped her wrist as she reached for Linda's doorknob.

   "Mamma," he said, still warning her.

   "We can't do that!" came an obviously male, obviously agitated voice
through the door.

   "SHUT UP!" came Linda's also loud and agitated voice.

   "But honey!" came the pleading voice of Paul.

   "Don't you 'honey' me, you bastard!" yelled Linda.

   Mirriam struggled against Bobby's grip, trying to open the door.

   "They're fighting!" she hissed.

   "Leave them be, Mamma," said Bobby.

   "I will not!" she said, turning to him.  "You shouldn't have brought him
here!"

   "As I recall, you thought it was a great idea," whispered Bobby.

   "I didn't know she'd act a fool and try to kill the poor boy!" hissed
the woman.

   "At least knock," said Bobby.  He let her wrist go.

   Mirriam knocked.

   "Go away!" came Linda's yell from inside.

   "Linda?  Honey?" said Mirriam, in her best "please let me in" voice.

   "GO AWAY!" yelled Linda.

   "LINDA!" yelled Paul.

   "SHUT UP!" yelled Linda.

   "PLEASE ...  LINDA ...  NO ...  YOU CAN'T ..."

   Mirriam tried the doorknob.  It was locked.  She pounded on the door.

   "LINDA JEAN, YOU LET ME IN THERE THIS INSTANT!" yelled Mirriam.

   "GO AWAY!" came the yell from inside.

   A strangled moan came from what sounded like Paul's voice, through the
door.  "Ohhhh pleeeease," he begged.

   Mirriam turned to Bobby.  "Break it down," she said, her voice tight.

   "Mamma, you're overreacting."

   She took a breath to yell at him, and then stopped.  Her eyes lit up. 
She stepped to the linen closet and opened the door.  Reaching inside, she
took a skeleton key off the nail.  She'd just remembered it was there. 
Bringing it back, she bent over and inserted it in the keyhole of Linda's
door.

   "Mamma, please," begged Bobby.  "They're just working things out."

   "No they're not," moaned Mirriam.  "My baby is in there.  She probably
has a knife or something.  She's doing something horrible to that sweet
boy, I just know it!"

   She twisted and there was a rusty grating sound.  She turned the knob
and pushed the door open, already moving ahead.

   Had Bobby been moving behind her, he would have run into her when she
suddenly stopped, and took in a gasp of air.  Bobby peeked in.  It did look
like there had been knock-down drag-out fight going on.

   The chair had been knocked over, and there was clothing lying
everywhere. Paul was lying across Linda's bed, his shirt torn open.  His
pants were down around his calves.  Linda was stark naked.  The clothing
strewn everywhere was what she had been wearing when she came to supper.

   She was sucking Paul's cock.

   She either heard the door open, or heard her mother's indrawn gasp,
because she sucked hard, pulling her mouth off of Paul's mostly hard prick,
and looked over her shoulder.

   "Go away!" she growled.

   Then she went back to work on a moaning Paul, who lifted his head off
the bed, saw Mirriam and Bobby standing there, and dropped his head back to
the bed, covering his eyes with one hand.

   Bobby pulled at his mother's waist, pulling her backwards on wooden
legs. She stumbled, and his arms went around her, lifting her to pull her
out of the room backwards.  She was craning her neck as he stopped to pull
the door closed.  To shake her out of her shock, he slid his hands to her
breasts and squeezed them.

   "Looks like fun, doesn't it?" he whispered.

   She went almost limp, and he held her sagging body with his hands on her
breasts, turning her to find the twins and Suzie standing there, wide-eyed,
at the end of the hall.  Mirriam moaned, got her feet under her, stood, and
pushed at Bobby's hands.

   "What are you doing?" asked a breathless Matilda, staring at them.

   "Mamma felt faint," said Bobby.  "I had to catch her to keep her from
falling."

   "Do we need to call the police?" asked Suzie, frowning.

   "No!" gasped Mirriam.

   "What's wrong?" asked Betty.  "What are they doing in there?"

   Bobby put his hands on his mother's waist, and pushed her forward,
toward the girls.

   "They are communicating," said Bobby.  "They are telling each other how
they feel.  We need to leave them alone, so they can sort this out."

   "What should we do?" asked Betty, sounding confused.

   "We should eat supper," said Bobby firmly.

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

   It took Mirriam about fifteen minutes to recover from the shock of
seeing her daughter engaged in such a raw display of sex.  Not that it was
a display, of course.  Linda had made it perfectly clear that she wanted
privacy.  During those fifteen minutes Mirriam convinced herself that Linda
was grown, now, and that it was really a positive thing that she and her
former fiancé had ...  made up.

   Then, though, as the time stretched on, and the ...  making up ...  also
went on ...  and on ...  and on ...  and ...  on, she began to get agitated
again.  How long did it take to give the poor man a blow job?

   That led to thoughts of other things that were obviously going on up
there in her little girl's bedroom.  There wasn't a word of conversation at
the table.  The other girls, and Bobby, were simply eating, though there
were a lot of looks being traded between Suzie and her two younger sisters.

   At one point, when Mirriam couldn't take it any longer, she stood up and
started for the doorway.

   "Mamma," said Bobby, calmly.  "Sit back down."

   More looks, and two grins were exchanged between the girls.  Suzie, who
had a little more knowledge of the things that had gone on in the house,
between Bobby and her older sisters, was not amused.

   "I can't take this!" moaned Mirriam.

   "Then let's talk about it," said Bobby, standing up too.  "Privately,"
he added.

   He took her to her bedroom and closed ...  and locked ...  the door. 
She was so distraught by the images in her head that she didn't notice.

   She noticed when he hugged her from behind again, and cupped her
breasts, though.

   "They're just doing this, Mamma," he whispered in her ear.

   She shuddered, unable to resist loving his hands on her.  The sudden and
stark realization that she was turned on by what she'd seen, hit her hard.
How could she be sexually excited by seeing her own daughter having sex?

   "They're doing much more than that," she moaned.

   His fingers left her breasts, and she sighed at the loss of sensation,
until she felt him lifting the skirt of her dress up to her waist.

   "What are you doing?" she whined.

   "You need this, Mamma," he said softly.

   His hand slid into the side of her panties, and around to the front, and
she leaned back, lifting one foot automatically to step to the side and
give him room.

   "Nooo," she said softly.

   "You'll feel better, Mamma," he whispered.

   It was just a very quick, very functional orgasm that he gave her with
his fingers.  She leaned back against him, and spread her legs even more,
until the relief shuddered through her.  His arm around her supported her,
and she sagged.

   It worked, though.  She felt the relaxation immediately, and, when he
pulled his hand out of her panties, she turned, as her skirt fell, and
embraced him.

   They kissed, a long tender kiss, and he pulled back.

   "Think you can eat now?" he asked.

   She nodded.  "I'll need more later."

   He just nodded too, and kissed her lightly once more.

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

   The girls were still at the table when they got back.  Mirriam felt a
trace of a blush on her face, as she walked back into the dining room, but
put that out of her mind.  The girls were finished, more or less, and
Mirriam just sat down and continued to eat.

   Twenty minutes later a very calm Linda led a very flushed Paul back into
the dining room and sat him back in the chair she'd taken him from.  Bobby
had already moved his plate, and put her empty one next to Paul's seat. 
She sat down as if nothing had happened.

   "Pass the roast, please," she said, her voice light, and unconcerned. 
"Mamma, we've decided to get married on the third of January."

   Mirriam's eyes opened wide.

   "But that's less than two weeks away!" she yipped.

   "We're going to have a very small wedding," said Linda.  "Just the two
families.  We'll get married here, at the farm."

   "His parents might object," said Mirriam.

   "They can object all they want," said Linda firmly.  "We're getting
married, and that's that."

   Mirriam looked at Paul, who was having difficulty looking at anything
except the plate in front of him.  His hands were in his lap, and his
utensils lay untouched beside his plate.

   "Paul?" prompted Mirriam.

   It obviously took an effort for him to look up, and his face flamed red.

   "We're getting married," he said softly.

   Matilda seemed to sum it up for all of them, when she said, simply:
"Wow!"

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

   Of course it didn't end there.  Mirriam kept quiet for half an hour, and
then began to fire questions at her daughter.  Getting married was one
thing.  Doing it in less than two weeks was another.  On top of that there
were questions about his schooling, and where they would live and how they
would survive, among others.

   But Linda was as unrepentant as it was possible to be.

   "Mamma, I'd be living here, if I didn't marry him, so, while he finishes
college, I'll just live here."

   "That's not how it's done, dear," said Mirriam, a little tersely.

   "That's how I have to do it," said Linda.  "I can't stand being apart
from him, and knowing he's not all mine," she said.  "He's only a few hours
away, and he promises to come home as often as he can on the weekends."

   "I just don't understand the hurry ...  that's all," complained her
mother.

   What Linda wasn't telling her ...  about the hurry ...  was that, while
they were having this conversation, Linda should be wearing a sanitary
napkin.  In fact, she should have been almost through enduring another
period.  She wasn't, though.  She knew it was Bobby that had caused that
little problem.  Bobby ...  and her own insatiable need for what Paul had
given her, until he went away to college.  When she saw Paul, sitting at
the table, her first thought was that, when he found out she was pregnant,
it would be over forever.  She couldn't stand the thought of that, so she
went for broke.

   That had worked out rather well, from her perspective.  While she almost
raped the young man, she told him, in stark terms, how she felt, and how
she had been feeling, since they had broken up.  Had Mirriam and Bobby
stayed to watch, they would have been confused, because, while Paul's semen
was almost jerked from his balls, to be deposited in Linda's naked pussy,
she gave him the tongue lashing of his life.

   And it wasn't her tongue lashing his prick, either.

   She sounded like she hated him, as she quit sucking his dick and climbed
up to slot his prick in her pussy.  As she sank down on him, and used
talented muscles to milk his penis, she yelled at him for leaving her, and
hurting her, and making her miserable.  As she brought his mouth to her
nipples, riding him furiously, she threatened dire consequences if he ever
hurt her like that again.  Then she cried, telling him how much she loved
him, and how she couldn't go on being separated unless she knew she would
have him forever more.

   Paul's response was a mixture of lust, because he had missed this too,
and of similar feelings that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with
this astounding woman, and it didn't take much for him to cave to the idea
of getting married soon.

   It also didn't take much to get him to spurt her full of his sperm. 
There were two reasons Linda wanted his sperm in her.  In the first place,
she was pregnant, and a nice helping of his sperm would give her an excuse
for being that way.  She wasn't really being mercenary about it.  Women
rationalize things a little differenty than men.  She had wanted Paul to
get her pregnant, and he refused.  If he wouldn't have refused, it WOULD be
his baby in her belly right now.  So she didn't feel guilty about arranging
things so that he'd think it was.  If he hadn't been so stubborn, it would
have been.

   But there was another reason she wanted his sperm in her that night. 
And that was simply because she loved him, and wanted part of him inside
her.

   At any rate, it soon became evident to anybody who cared to pay
attention that Linda Dalton was going to get married, regardless of what it
took.  Once that was established, there was less resistance, and more
cooperation.  That cooperation even extended to basically ignoring the fact
that Paul stayed most, if not all, of each night in Linda's room before
they got married.

   Linda stopped calling him Paul.  She called him "My Christmas Present"
instead.

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

   There was, in fact, a wedding at the Dalton home, and it did, in fact,
take place on the third day of January, 1974.  The wedding was, in fact,
conducted with little fanfare.  Paul's parents were there, as were all of
Linda's siblings.  Bobby walked her into the living room, where the
ceremony was conducted.

   Linda was radiant, even though she chose not to wear a formal wedding
gown.  Paul looked stiff in his Sunday suit, and looked a little dazed too,
if the truth be known.  That only lasted until the ceremony was complete.
As he was told he could kiss his bride, he looked at her, with wonder in
his eyes.

   "We're married," he said softly.

   "I know," she said, looking into his eyes steadily.  "I'm very happy,
Paul." It was a strangely serious moment.  "You've always made me so
happy," she said.

   Then she kissed him.  It was no peck on the lips, like many embarrassed
brides and grooms perform.  She kissed him with all the passion she felt
inside her, and he felt it.  It was at that moment that everything became
real to him.  Up until that time, it had all been a wild dream ...  that
this beautiful woman would choose him ...  would continue to choose him. 
The reality of it seeped from her lips to his, and he relaxed.  It was
real, and he could finally believe it.

   Since there was little in the way of wedding expenses, everybody kicked
in enough money that the happy couple could run up to Kansas City and stay
in a swank hotel for three days on their honeymoon.

   Then Paul was back to school, and Linda, now happily married, and much
more happily pregnant, settled in to wait for her husband to finish school,
while she started their family.  She waited almost two months, to tell
anyone she was pregnant.  The hardest part of that was getting the doctor
to stay quiet about it.

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

   Renee spent part of almost every day of the next three weeks working
with the priest on the annulment proceedings.  Then he said all there was
to do was wait, while higher authorities examined and evaluated the request
for the procedure.

   Those three weeks were good for her, in the sense that she had a goal to
work toward.  But they were hard for her because her mother was becoming
more and more demanding about the wedding.  She kept telling herself that
the annulment proceedings needed to be firmly under way, before she
confessed to her parents.  That was made easier in yet another sense, by
the fact that the priest convinced her to confess to him first.  It was
during that process that she was helped to understand that a lot of her bad
decisions had been based on preconceived notions about Daniel, and the fact
that she had submitted to his advances long before she really knew him.

   It didn't make her feel any better, even though the priest gave her
absolution ...  but it did make her decide to be more careful with men in
the future.

   The first man she thought about being careful with ...  was Bobby
Dalton.

   Once the annulment petition was submitted, and she had more time to
think about other things, she realized she had no other goals.  She hoped
that someday her "Daniel nightmare", as she thought of it, might end.  But
what would she do then?  For that matter, what was she going to do until
then?

   She needed a goal.

   The only thing she could come up with, other than moving back home and
admitting total defeat, was the idea of the child care center.  She had no
idea if she could make that work or not, but it was a tantalizing dream ...
to be independent, and do something she thought she would like ...  take
care of children.

   At the same time, she couldn't get Bobby out of her mind.  Other than
the annulment process, the only thing she seemed to be able to think about
was Bobby.  She was at once both fascinated with him and repelled by what
he was.  She thought of herself as a moth, drawn to a very dangerous flame.
But the more she thought about him, the more she remembered the things he
had done and said.

   In the "what he had done" category, there were only things that seemed
helpful, both to her and, based on their reactions to him, those women he
was involved with.  Her upbringing insisted that he wasn't a "decent" man
...  and yet, other than his sexual habits, she couldn't think of a single
thing about him that wasn't kind ...  caring ...  thoughtful ...  decent.

   He had looked at her.  He had "done" that, but she couldn't fault him
for that.  All men looked at women, particularly if they happened to see
them unclothed.  But he hadn't tried to take advantage of her.  If
anything, he was more forgiving than any man she'd ever known.  He had
charged her for the time it took to fix his car, but that was a pittance,
compared to the damage she'd done.  He had cared about her ...  had been
friendly toward her ...  when she hadn't had a friend in the world.

   In the "what he had said" category, other than the last time they'd
talked, all he had said were things that were intended to help her.

   In the end, it was the agony of trying to decide what to do about Bobby
Dalton that caused her to make a conscious decision to try to ignore the
"secret" side of his life, and concentrate, instead, on letting him be her
friend.

   To that end, she called him and asked him to come back to the house and
start making plans for the renovation.

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

   If you've ever been driving down the street, and seen a hooker, or
someone you thought was a hooker, it's a safe bet that the primary thing in
your mind was "what she does" for a living.  You might even get an image in
your head of her acting sexually.  It's odd, in one sense, because that's
not what you think when you see people in other lines of work.

   If you talk to the mechanic who is going to work on your car, for
example, you don't conjur up an image in your mind of him actually doing
that.  You just hope he'll be successful.  It's the same with the sales
clerk.  He, or she, is just a person who you hope will help you find what
you're looking for.  Think of just about anybody you run into during a
normal day and it's similar.  Maybe you chat with these people, and take a
brief, momentary interest in some facet of their lives.  But what you don't
do, more than likely, is imagine them performing the work that they do.

   It isn't that way for someone in the sex trades.  When you see that
person, all you can think about is them ...  in the performance of their
... duties.

   That was Renee's problem.  Once she knew Bobby "had sex with women who
paid him," as she thought of it, that's all she could imagine him doing,
whenever she saw him.

   When he came to her house, in response to her request to begin planning
the renovations, she didn't think of him tearing down walls, or building
new ones.  She didn't imagine him painting, or laying carpet.  She couldn't
visualize him setting a stool in place, or pulling electrical wiring.

   All she could think about was him ...  naked ...  with women.

   It would have driven her crazy, if he hadn't convinced her to start the
renovation right away.  What helped even more was that he insisted that she
do a lot of the work with him.

   It took three weeks, of working side by side, and of helping him tear
down walls, build walls, being taught how to paint by him, and then helping
him do that, before she began to think of him as Bobby the builder more
often than she thought of him as Bobby the sex machine.  He taught her how
to finish woodwork, and how to run electrical wires, and do plumbing.  She
watched hands that built things, and began to think of them as capable
hands, rather than just hands that had stroked women's bodies.

   They talked for hours, while they worked, about everything conceivable.
He touched her and she touched him, in the process of building what was now
the dream she could actually begin to see taking shape.  They talked about
things that made her laugh, and things that made her want to cry.

   They were laying the last of the carpet, when she had to take a bathroom
break.  She was sitting on the stool that she had helped install herself
when the phone rang.

   "Can you get that?" she yelled through the door.

   "Sure," came his reply.

   She walked out to find him chatting amiably on the phone with whoever
had called.

   "Yes, she's quite good at it, actually.  I couldn't have hired a better
worker.  She's got an amazingly steady hand with a trim brush."

   He looked up at her.

   "Here she is ...  hang on." He extended the phone.  "It's your mother,"
he said calmly.

   Renee felt frozen.  This was a problem that had not been worked on,
while she spent all her energy and mind on her dream.  She took the phone
and covered the microphone.

   "You TALKED to her?" she gasped.

   "You told me to answer it," he said, shrugging his shoulders.  "She
wanted to know who I was, and why I was answering the phone.  I told her
you were busy with the renovation, rather than telling her you were taking
a leak." He grinned.  "Did I say the wrong thing?"

   "She doesn't KNOW about the renovation!" hissed Renee.

   "Oh," said Bobby.  "She does now." He pointed at the phone.  "She's
waiting to talk to you."

   Renee stared at the phone like it was a viper.  She tried to calm
herself and lifted it.

   "Hi, Mommy," she tried to say brightly.

   "What in the world is going on there?" asked her obviously curious and
somewhat distraught mother.  "What was that man talking about?"

   "We're ...  um ...  renovating the house.  I'm going to start a child
care center here."

   "What?" asked her mother.  "You're going to tend other people's brats?"

   Renee felt the heat of anger surge through her.  Her parents were a
constant source of angst in her life.

   "I'm going to use my education to earn a living, Mother," she said,
trying to keep the anger out of her voice.

   "You don't NEED to earn a living, Renee," said her mother,
authoritatively.  "What is going on there?  Where is Daniel?  Why are you
doing this, Renee?"

   "Mother," said Renee firmly.  "With Daniel gone, I DO need to make a
living, and I DID go to college to learn how to help children.  There is
nothing dishonorable about working for a living, Mother."

   "I'm coming down there!" declared her mother.  "Something fishy is going
on here, and I'm going to get to the bottom of it!"

   "No, Mother," said Renee, just as stubbornly.  "You are NOT coming
here!"

   "I most certainly am!" shouted her mother.

   "Don't bother," said Renee.  "I'll get a flight and be home tomorrow. 
Let's just get this over with," she said, her voice losing strength.

   "Get WHAT over with?" shouted her mother, so loudly that Bobby could
hear it, standing three feet away from Renee.

   "Some problems have developed," said Renee, sounding defeated.  "I'll
tell you about it when I get home."

   "You'll tell me about it this instant!" yelled the woman.

   "Goodbye, Mother," said Renee, her voice now sounding agonized.  "I'll
see you tomorrow." -

   "DON'T YOU HANG UP ON ME!" screamed the woman on the other end of the
line.

   Renee did just that, and sat down hard in a chair nearby.

   "Well, that tears it," she said.

   "You haven't talked to them at all ...  have you?" asked Bobby.

   "No," she sighed.  "It just never seemed like the right time.  I've been
putting it off for weeks."

   "I thought I told you to talk to them," he said.

   "You did," she said, listlessly.

   The phone started ringing again.  Renee didn't move.

   "You want me to get it?" he asked.

   "What would you say?" she said listlessly.

   "I'd tell her you were scampering naked through the house, packing to
come home," he said, grinning.

   She actually cracked a smile.  "That would serve her right," she said,
with a tiny giggle.

   "Perhaps you should scamper around, packing to go home," said Bobby. 
"Not naked, of course," he added.

   Renee looked up at him.  Knowing what she now knew about him, she
thought it was almost odd that he wasn't flirting with her.  It made her
wonder, for a few seconds, if she wasn't attractive, but then his comment
about her cute butt fluttered in her mind.

   He was just being a nice guy.  The war within her mind about Bobby had
faded, somewhat, as she worked next to him.  It was hard for her to believe
that he did all those things.  The man she had seen was just a decent kind
of guy.  He never said anything unkind about anyone else, and he hadn't
made a single pass at her.  Yet, she caught him looking at her, now and
then, with appreciation in his eyes.  She recognized that, without vanity.
It was just there ...  not pushy or lewd ...  just his eyes complimenting
her.

   The phone finally stopped ringing.

   "We're so close to being done," she said, ready to argue about leaving.

   "You know you have to go," he said.

   "I know," she admitted, sadly.

   The phone started ringing again.

   "OK, I'll go pack," she said.

   She left the room and Bobby picked up the phone.

   "Hello?" he said, as if he hadn't talked to the woman only moments
before.

   "I want my daughter on the phone right now!" said the woman.

   "She's packing," said Bobby.

   "Go get her," said her mother.

   "Ma'am," he said, "with all due respect, your daughter is a grown woman,
and when you try to treat her like she's still your little girl, I don't
think it's going to help your cause.  She'll be there tomorrow, and you can
have a nice chat about things.  Now, I have work to do, and it's costing
your daughter money, so I'm going to get back to work."

   "You're impertinent!" barked Mrs.  Harqart.  "You have no business
answering my daughter's phone in the first place!"

   "Well, then, I won't do it again," said Bobby, and he hung up.

   He turned to see Renee, standing at the corner of the hallway, looking
at him.

   "Thanks," she said.  "But it won't do any good."

   "She can't live your life for you," said Bobby.  "Nobody can.  You are
the only one who can decide where your life is going to go.  You ARE a
grown woman, regardless of how you feel about it."

   "I don't understand you," she said, staring at him.  "All those things
you told me about ...  what you do.  They just don't make any sense."

   "They don't have anything to do with you," said Bobby, "except that
you'd have found out sooner or later, and I didn't want you to be
blind-sided, like you were with your husband."

   "You don't seem like that kind of person," she insisted.

   "I'm just me," said Bobby.

   "Why did you say that it doesn't have anything to do with me?" she
asked.

   He looked at her.  "You have enough troubles already, without somebody
like me chasing you around the dining room table." He grinned.

   "You'd do that?" she asked, her voice rising.

   "Only if you ran," he said, grinning more widely.

   "You're flirting with me again," she accused.

   "I thought you might need a little emotional lift, before you went off
to see your Mamma." He blew her a kiss, and then leaned over to pick up the
knee kicker, to finish stretching the carpet.  Shazbot
=======================================



   Linda tried, in the beginning, to stay true to her husband.  She felt a
little guilty that their first child was going to be Bobby's, but, after
enduring two months without sex, she finally gave up and went back to
having Bobby take care of the itch she couldn't get rid of any other way.

   She thought she was being clever, but she forgot about Suzie, and the
fact that Suzie knew what Bobby had been doing with Linda late at night.

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

   Suzie heard the creak of a board in the hallway and knew that it had to
be Linda.  She suspected Linda was going to Bobby's room again.  She didn't
understand that.  She didn't understand how Mary could have done it either.
Linda had tried to explain it to her, but it hadn't made sense.  Oh, it was
clear that Bobby wasn't doing anything Linda didn't want, but she couldn't
understand why Linda wanted that.

   Ever since finding out, for sure, what was going on in Bobby's room,
Suzie had looked at boys with different eyes.  She knew teenagers had sex,
of course.  Everybody knew that.  She even had a pretty good idea of which
teenagers she saw at school were doing that, but the whole concept of
"having sex" just seemed foreign to her.  She had never looked at a boy and
even thought about having sex with him, much less wanted to do so.

   Not until she found out some of her sisters were having sex with Bobby.
And those other women.  Lots of women seemed to want to have sex with him.

   She had lain awake in bed at night, thinking about that.  She wasn't
afraid of Bobby any more.  She believed him when he said she was safe.  She
knew he loved her and wouldn't hurt her.  Somehow, she knew he wouldn't let
anyone else hurt her either, if he had his way about it.  She knew she
loved him too, but that was a misty kind of feeling that wafted in and out
of her consciousness, without having real form.  She loved her sisters too,
but she didn't want to have sex with them.

   Linda's explanation about it had been that it made her feel good and
relaxed her.  But she had Paul.  Well, she had him before they broke up. 
But now she had him again.  She was even married to him, and he had stayed
in her room all night even!  Except he wasn't here now.  He was back at
college.

   And Linda was sneaking to Bobby's room ...  just like before.

   She sat up, listening.  The creak was gone.  She could go to the
bathroom ...  just to see if anybody was in the hall.

   She stepped out into the hallway and stepped on the same creaky board
that someone else had.  Nothing happened though.  Nobody stuck a head out
of a door, to see who was there in the hallway.

   She stepped quickly to the bathroom, which was dark, with the door open.
She strained to listen, not knowing what she was listening for.  Some
errant noise, not quite identifiable, came from the direction of Bobby's
room.

   She tiptoed down there and paused, listening.

   Voices.  She heard quiet voices inside.  Someone was in there with him
...  and they were talking.

   Curiosity bloomed in her, wanting to be satisfied.  She couldn't just
open the door.  The last time she'd done that, she'd found Linda sitting on
Bobby's lap, with her panties on the floor beside them.  It had been
terribly embarrassing to her, though she had tried hard not to show it.

   She thought of the trees around the house ...  trees she had climbed
hundreds of times in years gone by.  She concentrated, trying to remember
if there was one outside Bobby's window.

   Yes.  A big sycamore, with lots of level, horizontal branches.

   She scurried back to her room, mindless now of the creaks her feet
caused in the floorboards of the hallway.  She pulled on a thick, sheepskin
jacket, then levered her feet into tennis shoes, without socks, and without
untying them.  Her legs she left covered with only her nightgown, so she'd
have freedom of movement.

   She tried to get down the hallway without making too much noise, and
then down the steps.  Going to the back door, off the kitchen, she eased it
open and then jumped down all three steps, to the cold ground below. 
Running around the house, she didn't pay attention to the bite in the air,
concentrating only on which tree would give her access to Bobby's window.
Looking up, she thought it was odd that she had to figure out which window
was his.  She'd never thought about that before.  It was easy though.  His
was the only window with light coming out of it.

   She climbed easily and confidently, her tomboy muscles working like they
always had, pulling her up, higher and higher.  There were two branches
level with his window; one above the other, which let her walk out on the
lower one, while holding on to the upper.  She had to lean, but as she did
so, Bobby's bed came into view.

   She sucked in breath and held it, unprepared for what she saw.

   Linda wasn't sitting on his lap.  She was lying down on his bed, and he
was hovering over her, with his head above her loins.

   Both of them were naked ...  buck naked ...  and her legs were spread
... right in front of his face.

   Suzie watched, numbly, as his head lowered.  She saw his tongue come
out, and knew, instinctively, that he was going to touch her sister with
it. When he did, her breath, held for many seconds, rushed out of her
lungs, and she dragged cold air in harshly as she watched Bobby lick
Linda's pussy.

   There was no shred of doubt that that was what he was doing.  Even
though his face pressed to Linda's flesh, and Suzie could no longer see his
tongue, she knew what it was doing.  There was also no shred of doubt that
Linda loved it.  Her hands went to Bobby's head, and gripped his hair
first; then let go and played with it, urging him on.

   Everything about it looked strange to Suzie.  She'd seen her brother a
thousand times, but never stark naked, and never on his knees, with his
pale butt sticking up in the air.  In one sense, it didn't look like him at
all.  She'd seen Linda a thousand times too ...  naked even ...  but not
like this.  Not with this look in her eyes as she lifted her head and
looked at the top of Bobby's bobbing head.  That look ...  the look on her
sister's face ...  made her look like a stranger too.

   The bed was right inside the window.  They were only four feet away. 
Suzie didn't worry about them seeing her, but that was handled on a
subconscious basis.  Her brain remembered trying to see out her own window
at night, with a light on, and how hard that was to do.  The glass
separated them from her, but even so, she could hear, vaguely, the sounds
from inside.  There was Linda's voice, low, moaning, appreciative ...  and
wet, slurping sounds ...  very faint, but still audible.

   When Bobby suddenly lurched upward, Suzie leaned back automatically, but
he paid no attention to anything outside the room.  He stood on his knees,
and something straight and thick stuck out from his groin.  Suzie held her
breath again, realizing it was his penis.

   She'd seen him in his underwear.  She'd even looked curiously at the
outline of the thing his underwear hid.  She had some concept of "penis",
but she wasn't prepared for it to look like this.  It looked impossibly
long, and impossibly thick.  It wobbled, like it had its own muscles and
was doing some bizarre exercise, bobbing and waving in front of him.

   "I want it in me," came Linda's barely discernable voice through the
glass.

   Suzie watched, almost in horror, as Bobby fell onto his hands, looming
over Linda, who reached ...  with her own hand! ...  for the thing drooping
from his loins.  She aimed it!  She seemed to actually pull it toward her
sex.  And, when it got there, it disappeared into her body ...  smoothly
... as if it were neither long nor thick.  It was incredible ... 
unbelievable ...  astonishing.

   Yet it was happening right before her eyes.

   Suzie felt her lungs burning, and let the air out of them, only to drag
another lungful in.  She realized she was panting, and that her knees and
thighs were cold as ice in the winter air.  Further up though, at the
juncture of her own thighs, where her own sex lay, it wasn't cold at all.
If anything, she felt hot and itchy there.  It was a completely new feeling
...  something she'd never felt before.  She was intelligent enough to
realize that she was reacting to what was happening right in front of her.
She was seeing two people having sex ...  real sex ...  complete sex, and
it made it hard for her to hold onto the branch above her head.

   If there had been any doubt that Bobby's penis actually went inside
Linda, that doubt was removed, when he pulled it out, and then slammed it
back in, hard.  Linda moaned, but there was no pain in that moan.  It
looked violent, as he did it again ...  and again ...  and again, but Linda
didn't act like it felt violent.  Suzie could see the muscles in his hips
and back bunch up each time he thrust.  She could see Linda's breasts
bobble and jerk each time Bobby's loins smacked into hers.  Linda's hands,
stroking his shoulders, only added to the concept that this wasn't as
violent as it looked.  She was urging him on rather than trying to make him
stop.

   Suzie had never masturbated.  She knew masturbation existed, but was
unclear about the mechanics of it.  She had felt tingles of pleasure as she
bathed, sometimes, but they were quick and fleeting.  A bath or shower was
to be completed quickly, so you could get on with something more
interesting.  She had some concept that there was this thing called an
orgasm, but that was a strange and misty concept too.

   Linda, in the next few minutes, taught her what it looked like.  As
Suzie stared, and she saw and heard how Linda's body reacted to what was
happening, it was like she was having a dream where things that didn't make
any sense were happening.  As in many dreams, it seemed very real, but was
beyond clear evaluation and understanding.  Her brain told her that Linda
was having an orgasm, as her body jerked and moved erratically.  Her hips
jumped up at Bobby's, and her head flopped back and forth.  Her mouth
opened wide, but no scream issued from it.  Her eyes went from wide open to
being tightly closed.  Faint words ...  "Yes!" and "I love you" and "Oh yes
Bobby!" eased through the glass.

   Then, incomprehensibly, it all stopped, as Bobby pushed hard and froze,
not moving at all.  Linda still moved.  Her hips still writhed up at him
and her hands still moved over his shoulders and arms.  It was like he had
just run out of energy, suddenly, and couldn't move any more.  Then his
hips gave a little push, and then another, and another.  Suzie could hear
faint grunts from him.  Slowly he dropped his face to Linda's and he kissed
her on the lips.  It was a long kiss and it didn't look violent at all.

   Suzie stayed, welded to the tree branches, because she felt too weak to
negotiate her way back down the tree to the ground.  Because she stayed,
she saw the tenderness exchanged after the violent looking activity.  She
saw Bobby pull his penis out of Linda, dripping with thick, white looking
stuff that her mind told her was sperm.  She saw Bobby make Linda get up
and leave, when it was plain that Linda wanted to stay there.  It wasn't
until Linda put her nightgown back on, that panic struck at Suzie's frozen
body, warming it enough to let her scramble back down the trunk of the
tree, dropping the last five feet, in her hurry to get back into the house.
Her frozen knee joints weren't ready for the shock of landing, and she
tumbled, rolling in the leaves under the tree.

   She got up and hobbled to the back door, easing her way in, and feeling
the luscious heat inside the house begin to seep into her cold body.

   For the first time, Suzie was glad that she and Linda didn't share a
room any more, like they had for as long as she could remember.  With Mary
and Bev gone, the older girls now had their own rooms, and Suzie wouldn't
have to explain why she was coming back into their room, wearing a jacket
and shivering.

   It seemed to take hours for her to get warm, huddled under her blankets,
while her body shivered every fifteen or twenty seconds.  Her mind kept
replaying what she'd seen.  She knew that bobby "had sex" with some of his
sisters.  Now she knew what that looked like ...  what it meant.  The idea
of a man doing that to her was terrifying, no matter how happy Linda had
seemed to be.  The idea of being helpless under a man, while he shoved
something long and thick into her body, made her weak in a horrible way.

   Her last thoughts, as she finally found sleep, were that she was going
to go to college.  There would be no men ...  no dates ...  no boyfriends.

   No one would ever do that to her.

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

   The brain is an organ that is still little understood.  It dwarfs the
fastest computer, in terms of processing multiple streams of data at the
same time.  It works whether we're awake or asleep, both consciously and
subconsciously.  It does things we are never aware of automatically.  The
fact that we don't understand the brain, or why it does some of the things
it does, has no impact on its functionality.

   In Suzie's case, her brain processed all the information available to
it, while she slept.  It accessed memories that she wouldn't even have been
able to pull into conscious thought.  It reviewed all her interactions with
her big brother; from the time she was a toddler, clear up until she saw
him fucking her sister.

   There was conflicting information, as her brain reviewed all the times
she had loved her brother more than anyone else on earth, and the times
she'd hated him with the same passion.  It reviewed every touch he'd given
her, both loving and not so much, as well as memories of seeing him
interact with other people.

   And, while her brain recognized her decision to remain a virgin, quite
possibly forever, it also determined that her big brother was no threat to
that decision, regardless of what he did with other women.  When she woke,
Suzie's brain had rationalized, somehow, that what he did with those women
- her sisters included - was a separate part of his life that posed no
danger to her.  She woke loving her brother, and trusting him implicitly.
Had she tried to analyze that consciously, it might have caused her extreme
stress.  But her brain had done the heavy work while she slept, and, upon
waking, she felt only the sense of calm that a person feels when she knows
she has a plan for her life, and that everything for that plan is on track.

   If someone had been watching her ...  watching Bobby and Linda ... the
night before, they would have been surprised in the extreme when she walked
into the kitchen and hugged her big brother.

   "What's that for?" he asked, hugging her back.

   "I don't know," she said.  "I guess I just love you," she sighed.

   "Well it's very welcome," he said.  "And I love you too."

   "I know," she said, breaking away from him, to get something to eat.

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

   Renee's trip back home would make a story in itself.  Her parents went
through the normal stages ...  anger ...  grief ...  embarrassment ...  and
finally, thankfully, forgiveness.  They had made mistakes in their lives
too, and recognized, in their daughter, that she had been sincere in what
she was trying to do.  She stayed for four days, while they worked their
way through the maelstrom of emotion.

   Her mother, always practical, seized on the annulment as the answer to
their "problem".  No one had been told about the marriage.  Everyone knew
it was imminent, but it would be simple to frown sadly, and announce that
there had been a breakup.  She would sigh about the passions and
difficulties of youth, and of making a relationship work, and then sigh
some more and be verbally grateful that they had found out it wouldn't work
before anything permanent had been done.  Renee's mother was an expert at
spinning the truth, to the family's benefit.

   There was, in fact, an intense effort to rein in their wayward daughter,
and get her to come back home, where she could benefit from the experience
and guidance of her parents, while they managed her life for her.  In a
burst of resolve that surprised them all, Renee stood her ground.  She had
made serious mistakes, but she had learned from them.  She was an adult,
and had to make her own way.  Her mother was still horrified that her
daughter wanted to care for other women's children, like some kind of
menial servant, but Renee wouldn't listen to reason.

   With a final pledge to return often, Renee got into a cab and rode away.
It wasn't until she was on the plane, heading back to the heartland of
America, that the doubts assailed her.  Building a child care center with
Bobby was one thing.  Making it work, and making a living with it, was
going to be something entirely different.

   She was a basket case, as she gathered her luggage, and tried to decide
what to do next.  Her first problem was apparent immediately.  She had
packed way too much to go home, taking four bags.  Now, with three gathered
around her feet, while she waited for the fourth, she wondered how in the
world she was going to get back home with them.  Bobby had dropped her off
at the airport.  There was no limousine service in Kansas, no red caps,
eager to make your life easy, in exchange for a healthy tip.  In Kansas,
you fended for yourself.

   The last bag came sliding down the ramp.  It was the heaviest, and she
struggled to lift it off the belt, before it was whisked away from her, and
she'd have to wait another five minutes for it to come around again.

   A hand reached past her and lifted the heavy bag effortlessly.  "Let me
get that for you," said a deep, and familiar voice in her ear.  She turned,
surprise on her face, to see Bobby standing there.

   "Where did you come from?" she gasped.

   "Well, it's a long story," he said, his face straight.  "You see there
are flowers, and they have pollen, and the bees have to spread it.  It
wasn't exactly like that with me, but similar."

   She slapped at him, grinning with both the relief that he was there, and
at his teasing.

   "I called the airline and asked them if you were coming in on the
plane," he said.  "I thought you might need a hand."

   "I do," she sighed.

   "How'd it go?" he asked.

   "Surprisingly well, I think," she said.  "I'm here.  I wasn't sure
they'd let me come back."

   "I'm glad they did," he said.

   She stopped, and looked at him.  "Why?" she asked.

   Renee had done a lot of thinking while she was back home.  She'd had
plenty of time for that.  She'd thought about this man, who was really two
men at the same time.  He'd been a great help to her.  There was no doubt
about that.  But in her family's world, in which she was once again
submerged, no one helped for no reason.  People who helped you reach your
goals wanted something in return.  It was always tit for tat ...  you
scratch my back, and I'll scratch yours.

   "Why am I glad they let you come back?" he asked, one eyebrow rising.

   "Yes," she said, impatiently.  "What do you want from me?"

   "I didn't know I wanted anything," he said easily.  "Except to get paid,
of course.  Your bill has been piling up." He grinned, like it was some
joke.

   "I'm a woman," she said, shocking herself that she was taking this
further.  "You're a man."

   He cocked his head, looking at her with those devastating blue eyes of
his.

   "Uh huh," he agreed.  "It's been that way ever since we met." He still
had an almost smile on his face, and it drove her to distraction.  She
thought he was playing with her.

   "Men usually want something from a woman," she insisted.

   "I thought we already had this conversation," he said, picking up
another suitcase.  "I thought we decided you weren't interested in that."

   "I'm not," she said stubbornly.

   "OK," he said, standing there.  "I'm glad we straightened that out
again." This time he did smile, and she wanted to scream.

   He turned, abruptly, and started walking off.  She had to grab at her
two remaining bags, and hurry after him.  Her mind complained that
something wasn't right about this.  He couldn't just show up, out of the
blue, and upset her world again.  He'd done that enough already.

   He'd brought his car, and the luggage barely fit into the back seat.  He
didn't speak, even as they left the airport and got onto the maze of
highways that led them through Kansas City to the Interstate, and then
west.

   She fumed for half an hour, until, with clarity that astonished her, she
realized she was manufacturing reasons to be mad at him.  He hadn't really
done anything wrong at all.  She was just trying not to like him, because
liking him seemed dangerous somehow.  He wasn't a monster or a leering
letch.  He was just a nice guy, who had a strange life that she couldn't
comprehend.  Once again, she ran down the list of things he'd done for her
...  and hadn't tried to do with her.

   She looked over at him.  He was driving placidly in the right hand lane,
while cars whizzed past them in the left.

   "I'm sorry," she blurted.

   "It's OK," he said, not looking at her.  "You've had an emotional ride
the last few weeks."

   Just like that.  Just like that, he forgave her bitchiness ...  her
stereotyping of him ...  her efforts to drive him away.  Why couldn't she
have met a man like this instead of Daniel?  She almost giggled, thinking
of Bobby at Harvard.  He'd stick out like a sore thumb.  They'd eat him
alive.  He was a nice guy, and nice guys finished last.

   She stopped right there.  She was doing it again.  She looked at him
again.  Somehow, at that point, she realized she was wrong.  Nobody would
eat this man alive.  He might look different, and act different, than the
men she was used to, but he would always rise to the top, somehow.  She
wondered what she was basing THAT opinion on ...  where it had come from.

   As she thought about it, she arrived at the conclusion that while nice
guys might finish last ...  they finished.  The wild ones, like Daniel,
wrecked their lives and sometimes wrecked the lives of others around them.
They ended up alone and living lives that weren't really worth living.  She
thought about high-flying Daniel, and his friends.  Where was Daniel now?
He was locked in a tiny room, where he'd stay, maybe for the rest of his
life.  And the others - gone on to big careers, full of stress and danger.
They could never relax, because someone was always trying to take what they
had.  She had seen it in her father, when she was home.  Even in the midst
of dealing with a "family emergency" he had conducted business, unable to
relax and concentrate on only one thing.

   Bobby had dropped everything, to come take care of her.  He wanted
nothing in return.  She believed that now.  He hadn't pitched a fit when
she had rejected the advances he hadn't even made.  He hadn't said "Fine!
Who needs you anyway, bitch?!" He hadn't pleaded, or flirted, or cajoled.
She knew he was interested.  A woman could tell.  But he put her concerns
first.

   "Thank you," she said suddenly.

   "You're welcome," he said.

   "I mean it," she insisted, for some reason.

   "I do too," was all he said in reply.

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

   Renee was agitated again by the time they got to her house.  That was
because Bobby ignored her for the whole trip.  He responded to her
comments, but didn't drive the conversation forward.  He almost acted like
one of the men her father would have had drive her here or there, doing his
job, and not attempting to mix with his betters.

   Why that bothered her, she didn't explore.  All she knew was that it
did. She didn't think about the fact that she had rebuffed him, earlier ...
had rebuffed him several times since meeting him.  All she knew was that he
should be paying more attention to her than he was, and it bothered her.

   "The twins have been signing people up," he said, astonishing her, as he
set her bags down in the new play room.  "You already have eight customers.
They're hoping you'll hire them in return for that."

   "Of course I will," said Renee, cringing as she engaged in tit for tat.
She had no choice, really.  She couldn't take care of eight children by
herself.

   "I'll have them call you when I get home," he said.

   Then, without another word, he just left ...  getting in his car and
driving away.

   She wanted to scream again.

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

   Renee didn't have time to scream at anything.  Her customers started
bringing her their children as soon as she was back from talking to her
parents.  Not only did she hire Betty and Matilda as aides, she hired Linda
full time, and four other girls on a part time basis too.  The school
schedule allowed the girls to work at different times of the day, which
worked out well for all of them.  Employment opportunities in Granger were
few, and Renee's new business brightened the lives of more than just her
customers.

   Within two weeks she had twelve children in her care, on a more or less
daily basis.  There were also usually four or five drop-ins, but most of
those were older children, who were usually cared for at home.  Their
mothers sang Renee's praises, at giving them the chance to go shopping, or
visit friends, without having to take a child along with them.

   She didn't have to do any advertising.  Word got around amazingly
quickly.  It seemed like no time at all before the cavernous great room she
and Bobby had built, seemed cramped and small because of all the children
that filled it.

   Bobby stopped in, occasionally, to see how she was doing and see if
anything needed to be repaired.  He seemed to know, somehow, when most of
the children would be down for a nap, and Renee would have more than
fifteen seconds to talk.  He was popular with the kids who weren't
sleeping, some of whom knew him and called him "Uncle Bobby", even though
they were from different families.  He played horsy with them, or helped
them with whatever they were working on or playing with.

   He looked like any young father playing with his kids.

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

   Bobby was lying on his bed, reading, when there was a tap at his door.
It opened slightly.

   "Are you alone?" came Suzie's voice.

   "Yeah," he said, grinning.

   She stuck her head in, apparently looking to make sure.

   "Why would anybody be in here?" he asked, teasing her a little.

   "I know what you do in here!" she snorted.

   "Is that why you're here?" he teased.

   "Of course not," she said placidly.  "I already told you that."

   "I know," he said.  "I was just teasing you.  What's up?"

   She came in.  The fact that she felt comfortable sitting on the edge of
the bed might have had something to do with the fact that now that it was
winter, he wore sweats to bed.

   "I applied to K-State today," she said, frowning.

   "That's great," said her brother.  "I'm proud of you.  I know you'll
make it in.  You've been working really hard."

   "I'm not worried about that part," said Suzie.  "My guidance counselor
says there's no problem at all there.  The problem is that it costs too
much."

   "We'll work something out," said Bobby.

   "You always say that," she moaned.  "And you know how much I appreciate
you paying for me to go to summer school in Wichita, but this is different.
This is a lot of money.  Tuition is expensive, even if it is a state
school."

   "I know," said Bobby, closing his book.

   "And then there's room and board on top of that!" moaned Suzie.  "I
don't see any way it can happen."

   "Did you apply for scholarships?" asked Bobby.

   "Yes," she said glumly.  "But I won't hear about them until graduation,
probably."

   "You can get a summer job, and save that up," said Bobby.

   "I will," she said, "but it won't be enough."

   "We'll figure something out," said Bobby.  "It's too important for us to
have a doctor in the family, to let a little thing like money stop you." He
grinned.  "I might get sick some day, and you know how expensive doctors
are."

   She looked at him, but didn't smile.

   "I'll never be a doctor," she said.

   "Yes you will," said Bobby.  "Don't you worry about the tuition.  You'll
get some scholarships, and we'll find a way to make the rest of it happen.
You ARE going to be a doctor, Suzie."

   "Do you really think so?" she whined.

   "I know so," he said.  "You want to give me a physical, just for
practice?"

   She stood up and put her hands on her hips.

   "Linda may play with it, and let you hump her like that, but she's
crazy. I'm not crazy!"

   Bobby grinned.  "That's why you'll make it through medical school. 
You're not crazy."

   Still standing there, with her hands still on her hips, Suzie stared
down at him.

   "I love you, you know," she said.  "Even if you do those things with
Linda."

   "I love you too," said Bobby.  "And you don't have to worry about
anything like that happening between you and me," he added.

   "I know," said his little sister.  "That's why I know you really do love
me."

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

   It was June, and the weather was beginning to suggest that summer was
finally almost here.  Renee sat at her desk, looking through her accounts.
She hadn't been aware of how much paperwork would be needed to run a simple
little business.

   She stared at her ledger book.  There was money in the account ... 
money she had earned ...  money that had not just been given to her.  That
made her chest tight with pride.  She had begun implementing the preschool
program, and that was working well.  She'd needed to hire another full time
woman, to take care of the babies, while she put into practice what she had
learned in college.  The kids ate it up, and the parents were delighted
that their children were learning things that, years ago, they wouldn't
have learned until they were in kindergarten.

   She sat, staring at the ledger.  She had a business.  She had friends.
She had even had time to go to dinner at Mirriam's a few times.  Her
annulment was still being processed, but Father Michael said that no news
was good news, in this situation.  He insisted that the fact there had been
no requests from higher up for more information meant that things were
being handled routinely.

   She thought about all the good things that had happened in her life, and
was thankful for them.  There was one thing she didn't have though.  She
didn't have a man.

   Her schedule was too hectic to get involved in dating.  For that matter,
the available pool of men to date was pretty shallow.  Most young men left
Granger, to go to college, or to find better paying work, or just to get
away from a small town.  It sometimes made her wonder where all these
children came from.

   She was tired at the end of the day too.  It was a good kind of tired,
but it was still exhaustion.  The effort of meeting a man, and playing all
the games that dating required, just seemed like too big a task for her to
take on right now.

   Whenever she thought about men, she thought about Bobby.  HE was
available.  But she couldn't think about getting serious with a man who had
who knew how many women panting after him ...  women he ...  did things
with.

   Still, he didn't seem odd to her any more.  She didn't feel that misty,
unformed dread about him anymore.  She knew him well enough by now to know
that he wasn't at all like any gigolo she'd ever heard of before. 
Sometimes she had a difficult time even believing what he'd told her.  All
she had to do whenever she began doubting, though, was remember Jill's
voice, saying "I need to get laid bad, Bobby!"

   As if thinking about him summoned him, Bobby stepped through the front
door.

   "It seems so quiet," he said, looking around at the empty room.

   She looked at him.  She hadn't called him, or asked him to come over. 
He just showed up ...  dropping by ...  like a friend.

   "Hi," she said.

   "Hi, yourself," he returned, smiling.  "How's it going?"

   "Wonderful," she said.  "I'm going to have to find another full time
worker, for the babies." She cocked her head.  "You know anybody who might
be interested?"

   He thought for a minute.  "I don't know.  I'll check around."

   He came to the chair, on the other side of her desk.  "You hungry?" he
asked.

   "Are you asking out on a date?" she heard her voice say.  Why had she
said that?

   "Well, no ...  not actually," he said.  "I just thought you might be
hungry.  I am." He cocked his head at her.  "Why?  Do you want me to ask
you out on a date?"

   She thought about that.  It suddenly occurred to her that she could ...
hire Bobby ...  hire him to take her out.  Would he do that?  What did a
gigolo expect to do when he was hired?

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

   "Sure," he said.

   "If I hired you ...  to take me on a date ...  what would that mean?"

   "First off, you don't have to hire me," he said, grinning.  "I'd take
you on a date anyway."

   She tried to think about that, but it was too tumultuous.  If they just
"went on a date" it would be too much like ...  dating.  It didn't fit with
her perception of him, wild and unformed though that was.

   "I'm just trying to understand what you'd ...  expect." She wanted to
close her eyes.  This wasn't working out very well.

   "Oh, you mean because of all those other women." He said it as a
statement, and not a question.

   "I guess so," she said, weakly.

   "Well, I guess that depends," he said, as easily as if she had asked him
what kind of food he liked.  "If a woman hires me, I do what she wants."

   "That's it?" she asked, astonished.

   "It's not as easy as it sounds," he said casually.  "Sometimes the woman
doesn't know what she wants."

   "How can a woman not know what she wants?" asked Renee.

   "Have you ever been to a restaurant, and looked at the menu, and thought
that lots of things looked good, and then there were things you'd never
tried before, and you had a hard time figuring out what to order?" he
asked.

   "Sure," she said.

   "It's a little like that," he said.  "Sometimes a woman doesn't really
know what she'll like, or what to ask for.  Sometimes you just have to play
it by ear."

   "But that's just like ...  dating," said Renee.

   "I guess it is," said Bobby.

   "How in the world did you get started doing ...  what you do?" asked
Renee, entranced by how normal he made it sound, but thinking about how
bizarre it really was.

   "Are you hungry or not?" he asked.  "Like I said, I am.  Couldn't we
talk about this while we eat?"

   "Oh!" She suddenly felt flustered.  "OK," she agreed.

   "It's not a date," said Bobby, grinning.  "It's just to get something to
eat."

   "We have to go dutch then," said Renee, not believing she actually said
it.

   "Of course," said Bobby.  "Unless you want to buy me dinner.  I'm fine
with that."

   "You asked me to go," she said.  "I can't buy you dinner unless I ask
you to go." She grinned.  She couldn't believe how much fun it was to do
this kind of thing with him.  He teased her, and she teased him back.  It
was just fun.

   "Dutch treat it is," said Bobby.  "Now, can we go?"

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

   They went in his car, and they went to the Wagon Wheel, which was open
until nine.  Sal had new waitresses, since Jill and Christy had quit to run
the photo studio full time.  Bobby ordered as soon as the waitress showed
them to a booth.  Renee took the menu, and said she'd order when the
waitress brought them their drinks.

   He leaned forward, with his elbows on the table.

   "Now, what's this all about?" he asked.

   Renee blushed.

   "I didn't mean to pry," she said.  "It's just that I'm so busy ...  and
I haven't met any interesting men ..." she trailed off, not knowing what to
say.

   "And you miss being with a man?" asked Bobby, his eyes glittering.

   Renee felt her face get even hotter.  "Not like THAT," she moaned.

   "Like what?" he asked innocently, leaning back.

   "I know what you meant!" she accused.

   "What did I mean?" he asked, just as innocently.

   "Don't tease me now, Bobby," she sighed.  "Everything is going so well,
but I need to have some fun too."

   "OK," he said, relenting.  "So you want to go on a date or two, and just
have some fun ...  right?"

   "Yeah," she said, relieved that he seemed to understand.

   "I'd be happy to do that with you," he said calmly.  "But ..."

   "But what?" she asked, automatically.

   "You should probably hire me to do that," he said.

   "I thought you said that wasn't necessary!" she yipped.

   "Well, I'd really like to go on a date with you," he said.  "But, the
thing is that on a regular date, I might do something that would make you
feel uncomfortable.  If you hire me, you call all the shots, and I won't
get ...  carried away."

   "Why would you get carried away?" she asked.

   "Renee, you're a bombshell," he said, almost sadly.  "I'm very attracted
to you."

   She blinked.  He'd flirted with her before ...  but nothing like this.
She had no idea he thought about her like ...  what?  How DID he think
about her?

   "But you've never ..." What had he never done?  He'd never made a pass
at her, but she'd feel stupid saying that.

   "I've tried to be what you wanted me to be," said Bobby.  "All you
wanted was someone to help you a little ...  to be your friend, right?"

   "I guess so," she said weakly.

   "OK, so I tried to behave myself," he said.

   "Behave yourself?"

   "Your husband was an idiot for messing with drugs," said Bobby.  "He was
also an idiot for not concentrating on you.  You're beautiful, talented,
and smart.  You started a business and made it work in just a few months.
He could be here ...  sleeping with you ...  but he was too stupid to think
about that.  I'm not."

   Renee almost gasped.

   "You want to sleep with me?" she squeaked.

   "Any man would," he said quietly.

   Her first instinct was to just get up and run, but she conquered that
instinct.  Had he said these things before they worked on her house, they
would have scared her to death.  But part of her mind told her she could
trust him.  Still, she needed a little more information before she could
relax.

   "How long have you wanted to ...?" She couldn't say it again.

   "Oh, I don't know," he said casually.  "Probably since I visited you in
the hospital."

   "THAT long?" she gasped.

   "Hey, I'm a man," said Bobby, holding his hands up, palms facing her. 
"Don't hate me for being a man."

   "I don't hate you," she said instantly.  She wondered where that came
from too, and then realized it was the simple truth.

   "Anyway," he said.  "You didn't need that in your life, so I behaved
myself.  I don't think you need that in your life right now either, and if
you hire me, that will make it easier for me to keep behaving myself."

   It was a twisted kind of logic ...  a gigolo, suggesting that a woman
hire him to NOT make sexual advances toward her.  But, for Renee, it seemed
perfectly logical, for some reason.

   "How much?" she asked.

   "To hire me?" he said, grinning.  "Normally, I just let the woman decide
what it was worth to her," he said.  "In your case, since we're buddies and
all that, I'll break that rule.  How about five dollars?"

   She almost choked on the sip of soda she was drinking to ease the
dryness in her mouth.  She coughed, while he looked concerned.

   "Only five dollars?" she finally gasped.

   "I can charge you ten, if it will make you feel better," he said.

   She wanted to throw something at him, but the only thing on the table
was her Coke, and a napkin.

   "You'd behave yourself for only five dollars?" she asked.

   "Absolutely," he said.

   The whole conversation seemed so strange that it didn't seem any
stranger to take it further.

   "If I ...  hired you ...  where would we go?" she asked.

   "Well, maybe you should decide that," said Bobby.  "What do you like to
do on dates?"

   "I haven't been on one for years," said Renee.  "I love roller skating."

   "There's a rink in Hutch," said Bobby.  "I have to tell you though, I
don't skate very well."

   Renee skated very well indeed.  As a teen, she had spent hours and hours
at the rink, learning to dance on skates and speed skate.  She felt as at
home on skates as she did on bare feet.  She was so overwhelmed by Bobby,
at this point, that the idea of her being better than him at something was
very appealing.

   "It's my date," she said suddenly.  "I want to go skating."

   He looked pained, and she realized he was like any other man, forced to
do something he thought he looked silly doing.  That made her feel better
too, for some reason.  He had seemed so much larger than life up to this
point.  Now she saw a dent in his armor.

   "OK," he said.  "You're right.  It's your date."

   Renee felt like she had done something very important ...  or very
dangerous ...  she wasn't sure which.  But, as she realized she had just
hired a gigolo, to take her on a date, she also felt like she was, finally,
taking complete control of her life.

   It felt good.

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

   Renee had a grin pasted on her face that wasn't going to go away any
time soon.  She'd almost forgotten how much fun it was to whiz around the
rink, fast enough that the wind blew her hair back.  She was having a lot
of fun.

   Part of that fun was because Bobby hadn't been kidding when he'd said he
wasn't a skater.  He fell twice, before he even got out of the spectator
area, which had carpet on the floor, where they put their rented skates on.
He clutched at everything within reach, as his legs seemed to want to go in
opposite directions.  She laughed; not at him, exactly, but because it was
humorous that such a big, strong man could look so helpless.

   He stayed on the rail, at the edge of the rink, and pulled himself
forward with dogged determination that made Renee respect him, and she
dashed by him several times, turning to skate backwards as she went by,
yelling encouragement to him.

   She was showing off.  She knew that.  But she couldn't help it.  It was
such a stark change from their normal relationship, where Bobby knew
everything, and seemed to be so in control of everything as well.

   Finally, she got enough speed under her belt that she calmed down, and
went to help him.  She came up behind him, reaching for one of his hands,
which were white-knuckled on the railing.

   "Let me pull you," she said, prying his hand off the railing.

   As soon as he let go, she pulled him away from the railing.  His feet
went out from under him and he flailed his arms helplessly.  It was only
natural, like a drowning person often grasps for the person trying to save
him, that he lunged toward her.

   They went down in a heap.  He hit hard on his left hip, with his legs
more or less straight, while she fell across him, facing away from his
head. She laughed, and then looked at her chest, where his right hand was
firmly clamped onto her right breast.

   He pulled on her breast to sit up, and then snatched his hand away.

   "Sorry," he mumbled.

   She rolled off of him and stood easily.

   "I thought you weren't going to lose control," she teased.  She knew he
hadn't done it on purpose.

   "Control is a word that fled, as soon as I put on these things!" he
groused, pointing at his feet.

   "Come on," she laughed.  "I'll help you.  It's not hard at all."

   "Easy for you to say," he said darkly.

   But he levered himself up onto his knees, and put a foot under him. 
That foot started to shoot forward, as soon as he put weight on it, and
Renee chocked it with her own foot, as she pulled him up by an elbow.  His
hands wavered, and then he stood, stock still.

   "This is good," he said, standing there.

   "You're supposed to move," she said, laughing.

   She turned, facing away from him and bent forward slightly.  It looked
like she was sticking her butt out at him, and she looked over her
shoulder.

   "Put your hands on my hips," she said.  "Stabilize yourself, and I'll
pull you.  Once you get going, you'll get the hang of it.  I promise."

   She felt his strong hands clamp onto her hips like vises, and started
off slowly.  She built up a little speed, with short pushing strokes of her
legs, and felt like they were making progress when she had to slow for
another skater who cut across her path.  Bobby's feet went forward, hit her
heels, and the next thing she knew she was falling again.

   When falling, at least in a skating rink, it is only natural to roll as
you go down.  Other skaters are always in your mind, and landing on your
butt or back allows you to see if anybody is about to run over you and roll
away from them.  It was for that reason that Renee rolled as she went down,
landing on her butt, which slid.  At the same time, she realized that
Bobby's bulk was looming over her ...  coming toward her.  He was going to
fall on top of her, and she lay back, rather than take all his weight on
her head.  She closed her eyes and snatched a deep breath, expecting to be
crushed in a second or two.

   When that didn't happen, her eyes popped open, to see his face directly
above hers.  She lifted her head and saw that his legs were spread, and his
toes were on the floor.  His arms were spread too, making him look like a
sky diver in free fall.  He had caught himself on his toes and his hands,
displaying incredible strength, which had kept him from actually falling on
top of her.

   Still, there was only inches between them.  His chest was grazing the
tips of her breasts, in fact.

   "Sorry," he said, right into her mouth.

   "Let me up, and we'll try again," she said back.

   "I don't think I can move," he said.  "If I move anything, I'm going to
fall on you."

   She wiggled out from under him, sliding upwards, using his shoulders to
help her move.  His chin slid between her breasts.  Had it been a few
inches to either side, she would have rubbed his face with a breast.  As
soon as her hips passed his face, his knees came down, and he was able to
assume a hands and knees position.

   Renee stood, and looked down at the poor man.  He looked up, and
grinned.

   "That wasn't so bad," he said.

   She giggled, and pulled him up again.

   "OK," she said.  "Let's try it a different way.  I'll get behind you,
and hold YOUR hips, and push.  We won't go fast, OK?"

   That worked much better.  She pushed, and he held his legs rigid, his
upper body leaning forward, and back, to keep his balance, while his arms
waved like a Hula dancer's.

   They made three full circuits around the floor, and he did catch on, at
least in terms of retaining his balance.  He still couldn't propel himself,
but he could at least stay up.  She switched to holding his hand, and
pulling him along with her, and they made five more circuits.

   "This is hard work!" he said, wiping his brow with his free hand. 
"Let's get something to drink."

   "OK," she said, gaily.  "Just head for that opening over there." She
pointed and gave him an extra tug, letting go of his hand.

   He almost made it.  He stayed up, but, not knowing how to push himself
along, he moved slower and slower until he was standing, still six feet
away from the opening.

   She laughed again, and skated up behind him to give him a push to get
him the rest of the way there.  Her hands on his lower back destroyed his
balance, and he flailed.  His feet shot backwards, and Renee's skates ran
into them, pitching her forward too.

   Bobby twisted, just like she had, and landed on his back.  Renee,
though, had neither the strength nor presence of mind to try a four point
landing, and flopped on top of him.  His arms went to the small of her
back.

   She was panting from the exertion of skating, and being excited.  His
face was right in front of hers, and he was panting too.  She felt his
chest pushing at her breasts as they both drew in air.  She realized her
loins were pressed to his ...  she could feel his manhood, in his tight
jeans.  His arms around her felt strong, and a subconscious part of her
mind felt good, being in an embrace again, despite the cause, or the
situation.

   "Hi," he said, grinning.  "So nice that you could drop in."

   She felt suddenly uncomfortable in his embrace ...  at touching him so
closely ...  as her mind said "Hmmmm, this is kind of nice." She struggled
to get up, and, as she brought her knee up, the toe of her other foot
slipped.  Her knee impacted his groin firmly.

   His groan was both explosive and horrible to hear.

   "Oh, I'm so sorry!" she blurted, rolling to the side, as he curled up.

   "'Sokay," he groaned, trying to roll on over to his hands and knees, not
wanting to appear disabled.

   He made it, and crawled the rest of the way to the carpeted floor.  He
continued to crawl to a chair, which he used to pull himself up, so he
could plop down into it.  He looked pale.

   "I'm so, so sorry," she said, getting up and walking on her skates
across the carpet, to sit down beside him."

   "I said I'd behave myself," he groaned.  "You didn't need to do that."

   His comment struck her funny bone, in that inappropriate way that
sometimes happens, where something that's not really funny seems hilarious,
and she started giggling.  She had, after all, reduced this big, strong,
sometimes scary man to something akin to a little boy.

   He just glared at her, until she got control of her giggles.

   "I'm sorry," she said again.  "I don't know why I laughed.  It's not
funny."

   "We are in agreement on that matter," he said, his voice a little
firmer.

   "You sit here," she said.  "I'll go get us something to drink."

   "OK," he said, agreeing quickly.  The thought of trying to negotiate the
distance to and from the snack bar, half of which would require that he
carry a cup of liquid, didn't appeal to him.  The pain had dulled, but was
still there.  She hadn't hit him all that hard, but it had been completely
unexpected, and he hadn't been able to mitigate the blow.

   When she returned with their drinks, he was feeling much better.  They
stayed another hour, during which Bobby watched as she went out on the
floor and did her thing.  She was poetry in motion, from his perspective.
Seeing her whirl and race and move as if she were on bare feet, instead of
slippery rolling wheels, left him in genuine awe.

   She tried to get him to come back out, for a few more circuits together,
but he admitted defeat, and said he'd had enough.  On the way back to
Granger, she apologized again, and he brushed it off.

   "At least let me make it up to you," she said, as they entered town. 
"How about I hire you for another date?"

   He looked over at her.  "I'm not sure I can survive another date with
you." He grinned though, and made it clear he wasn't mad.  "No more roller
skating, OK?"

   "Deal!" she said.  "We'll do something nice and sedate that won't hurt
you." She giggled again, and then straightened her face.

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

   Renee didn't call him again, right away, to set up the next date. 
That's because, after he took her home, and walked her to the door, and
lied about having a good time before leaving, she realized SHE had had a
good time.  It had been a fun, light kind of time for her.  She hadn't
thought about any of her problems the whole time they were out.  That was
part of the problem.  She had liked him before they went out, and she liked
him even more now.  He had sacrificed, for her.  Sure, she had "hired" him,
but she knew that was a pretense.  It had been a date, plain and simple. 
Two people had gone out.  One of them had had fun, and the other had helped
her have fun.  She liked that, and she liked him.  It was the eagerness
with which she looked forward to doing something else with him that caused
her to delay.

   She didn't want to be that eager to be with him.

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

   Paul Engle came home from college for the summer.  He basically just
moved into Mirriam's house, and lived in Linda's room.  He would work for
his father all summer, and then go back to school.  He spent hours stroking
Linda's swelling belly, and even more hours making love to her.  She was
insatiable, and he felt like the luckiest man alive.

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

   Bobby had jobs to do, and other women to take care of, so it didn't
matter to him that Renee seemed to be having second thoughts about another
date.  The 4th of July was coming up, and that was a day that had many fond
memories for Bobby.  He looked forward to the town celebration, and the
opportunity he'd have to mingle with all the women he'd made love to, in a
social setting.  It was always good for some serious flirting.

   Liz Sinderson, who had asked him over about once a month, since he had
gotten her pregnant, so they could make love while her husband, Jeff,
watched, went into labor late on the night of the third of July.  It had
been only a year before that Bobby had necked with her in the darkness, at
the 4th of July celebration, while Jeff watched from the shadows.

   Jeff, who might be exceptionally subservient when it came to watching
another man pleasure his wife, was decisive and in firm control of the rest
of his life.  He got Liz to the hospital and then, knowing Bobby would want
to know, called him to tell him.  Bobby went down and sat with his very
strange friend, until, at about three in the morning, Liz pushed out a
healthy son.  They had already decided to name the baby Phillip, if it was
a boy, and Bobby choked his way through some of a cigar, out in the parking
lot, before Jeff would let him go home.

   He visited Liz in the hospital, the next day, and she was radiant.  She
was holding the baby, who was asleep.

   "He's yours," she whispered to Bobby after he kissed her hello.  "Jeff
took one look at him and said it was obvious."

   "Is he upset?" asked Bobby.

   "No.  He's excited!" she sighed.  "Now he says he can't wait until we
can have sex again, so he can make one with me himself.  It's just so
strange, I don't know what to do!"

   "I guess our relationship has always been a little complicated and
strange," admitted Bobby.

   "He was so proud," she said, smiling.  "He said it didn't matter whose
it was, because I did it for him." She frowned.  "Still ...  I don't know
if he'll want me to keep having you over," she said, tentatively.

   "Whatever you two want is what I want," said Bobby.

   "That's why we love you so much," she sighed.  "As strange as all this
has been, we know you care about us, and that makes all the difference in
the world, Bobby.  It really does."

   "Well, you have some time to think about it, and talk to him about it,"
said Bobby.  "I'm glad he's taking this so well."

   She looked at the baby, and then up at the baby's father.

   "He's perfect in every way.  You make very good little boys."

   Bobby grinned.  "With the kind of motivation you gave me, it was easy."

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

   This was Renee's first celebration of the 4th of July in Granger.  She
was a little shy, at first, but then began seeing people she knew. 
Children ran up to her for hugs, and their mothers and fathers smiled and
waved at her.  Mirriam also waved, from a line of tables set up on the
grass.  Lots of women Renee knew were at that line of tables too, and her
nervousness disappeared as she walked over and was welcomed.

   She looked around for Bobby, but didn't see him.  She felt embarrassed,
for some reason, asking Mirriam about him.  Her date had gone superbly, as
far as she was concerned.  That night, as she lay in bed, thinking about
what had just transpired, she could still remember the feel of her small
hand in his larger, stronger one.  He had been a perfect gentleman, and
she'd had fun.  She was now having trouble thinking of him as a "gigolo".
He was just Bobby, and he was unique, among men.

   A woman she'd never seen walked up, holding a baby, about a year old. 
Just seeing that baby reminded her of Bobby, because of the black hair, and
blue eyes.  It even had the same little forelock of hair on its brow.

   "Felicity!" said Mirriam, standing up.  "It's so good to see you here."

   "You know Chester," sighed the woman, smiling.  "He's like a little boy
himself, when it comes to fireworks." She looked around.  "Is Bobby here?"

   Renee heard that special note in the woman's voice ...  that note that
said her question about Bobby wasn't as casual as she had tried to make it
sound.

   "He's around somewhere," said Mirriam.  "I can't keep track of him
anymore." She got a crafty look on her face.  "Would you like me to hold
Charles, while you go look for him?"

   "Would you?" asked Felicity, obviously happy at the thought.

   "I'd be happy to," said Mirriam, a strange note in her own voice.

   Renee watched as Mirriam took the little boy, who wiggled and squirmed
in her arms.  Felicity walked off.

   "Aren't you a handsome thing," cooed Mirriam to the baby.  "So big and
strong!" she added, as she sat down, and started letting the little boy
stand up and sit down on her lap.  She took his hands, and helped him
stand. He gurgled and smiled, and then his knees buckled and he sat, only
to struggle up again, with her help.

   An old man ...  a very old man ...  strolled up to Mirriam.

   "Well, I see she foisted him off on you," he said, smiling.  "I suppose
she's off kicking up her heels."

   "Good evening, Chester," said Mirriam, somewhat formally.  "Do you want
him back?"

   He waved a hand, carelessly, and sat down.

   "I get to see him all day long," he said.  "Enjoy yourself.  Besides,
it's about time for a diaper change, if I know my son." He said that with
what sounded like an inordinate amount of pride, to Renee's ears.  She was
puzzled.  The man had to be in his seventies, at least, but appeared to
claim this baby as his son.

   "I don't suppose you brought one of those fabulous rhubarb pies of yours
this year," said the man, hopefully.

   "I did indeed," said Mirriam, beaming.  "Would you like me to get you a
piece?"

   "You're busy," said Chester.  He turned to Renee.  "And who might this
lovely young woman be?" he asked.

   Mirriam made the introductions, and Chester, to Renee's astonishment,
said: "Ahhhh, so you're the woman who brought Granger up a notch."

   "I beg your pardon?" she said, hesitantly.

   "This town has needed a good preschool for years," said the old man. 
"It's a good thing you came along and gave them one.  I hear very good
reports about it."

   "Thank you," said Renee, a little weakly.  She had been under the
impression that no one, other than the parents of what she thought of as
"her children" even knew she existed.

   "Having paid you a compliment," said the old man, "do you suppose I
could beg you to get me a piece of that pie, so Mirriam can spend some time
with my son?"

   Renee's puzzlement increased.  This man was obviously claiming the baby
as his own, which meant he was married to the MUCH younger woman who seemed
to be the baby's mother.  Still, she jumped up to get the pie.  Mirriam
told her which basket to get it out of.  There were paper plates, plastic
forks and napkins in the basket as well.  She'd never had rhubarb pie
before, and had never had an interest in trying it either.  When, in the
process of getting Chester a piece, she got some on her thumb, it was just
natural to suck it off.  She found it to be sweet and delicious.  By the
time the old man had taken three bites of the pie she served him, she found
herself taking a bite of a piece she got for herself.

   Felicity walked back up, and folded her arms.

   "Chester!" she barked.  "How many times to I have to tell you to wait
for dessert?"

   "It's Mirriam's rhubarb pie," he said, as if that explained everything.

   Felicity took her baby back.  Chester finished his pie and stood up.

   "My undying gratitude is yours," he said, bowing to Mirriam.

   She blushed at his praise.

   "I'll save you another piece," she said, looking at Felicity.  "For
later."

   "You're spoiling him," warned Felicity, but she smiled.  She turned to
her husband.  "We have to make the rounds," she said.  "I still haven't
found Bobby."

   "Well, then," said Chester, taking her elbow.  "We'll just have to make
the rounds."

   When they were gone, Renee couldn't keep her curiosity at bay any
longer.

   "They're married?" she asked Mirriam.

   Mirriam explained the story about Chumley Steel and Pipe, and Chester's
marriage to Felicity.  It was the kind of gossip she loved, and which
wasn't really inappropriate for her to speak of.  It was just history, to
her reckoning.

   "Wow," said Renee, when the story was finished.  "They seem so happy."

   "I think they are," said Mirriam, looking off in the direction they had
left.  "I think they are," she repeated.

   A gaggle of girls rushed up to the table, making all kinds of noise. 
Some of them worked for Renee, and greeted her enthusiastically.  It was
more noise than Renee was comfortable with, though, and she got up to go
explore the square, saying she'd be back later.

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

   The reason Felicity hadn't been able to find Bobby was because Jill
Trimble had collared him first.  She'd taken him to a big oak tree, in the
farthest corner of the square, and put the tree between them and the crowd.
It wasn't dark yet, but the area was heavily shaded.

   "You haven't been by to see us in weeks," she complained.

   "I've just been busy," he said, smiling.

   "We miss you," she said petulantly.

   "I miss you too," he said, putting his hands on her waist.

   "I can't kiss you here," she complained.  "Somebody might see us."

   "I don't care," he said, grinning, and squeezing her waist.

   "I know you don't," she said, pouting.  "But I have a reputation to
uphold."

   "I see," he said, smiling.  She'd had his baby out of wedlock, and been
the talk of the town for a while.  She and Christy did such good work in
their photography studio, though, that people ignored her indiscretions,
for the most part.  "Is Roger still behaving himself?"

   He was talking about Jill's ex-husband, who was a mean and spiteful man
that had gotten another woman pregnant while they were still married, and
flaunted it in Jill's face.  Jill's original intention had been to get
pregnant with Bobby's baby to be spiteful back at him.  That had changed
though.  She'd ended up having Bobby's son because she wanted to have
Bobby's son.

   "Roger will always be Roger," she said dismissively.  "He hasn't spoken
to me for over a year.  I think he finally realized that I don't care what
he thinks about anything."

   "Good," said Bobby.

   "I hate you," she said softly.

   His eyebrow rose.  "Why's that?" he asked.

   "Because I can't help doing this," she said.

   She leaned up to kiss him, and it was a powerful kiss.  Then she pulled
away.

   "Don't neglect us, Bobby," she said firmly.

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

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

   It was after Bobby and Jill left the tree, and rejoined the throng, that
Felicity saw him.  Carrying her baby, she walked to him.  They were right
in the middle of a group of people, but she acted like there was nobody
around.

   "I've been looking for you," she said.

   Charles reached for Bobby, who took him and held him, bouncing him in
his arms, while the baby laughed.

   "I'm glad," he responded.  "It's an honor to be looked for by a woman
like you." He kissed Charles on the forehead.

   "Chester would like to have more children," she said, her voice normal.
She said it with the same emotion in her voice as if she'd said "Chester
would like to have a sprinkler system installed in the lawn."

   "And what would you like?" Bobby asked her.

   "I would like to give my husband what he wants," she said.  Her eyes
supplied the passion that her voice did not contain.

   "I'll clear some time on my schedule," said Bobby, smiling.

   "Make time for Annie too," she said.

   "Yes, Ma'am," said Bobby, to his second woman that night.

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

   Renee had stood, surrounded by people, and watched as Felicity saw Bobby
and went up to him.  It looked like they were just having a casual
conversation, but Renee's feminine intuition was going crazy.  The way
Felicity looked at Bobby ...  the way she held her body ...  the way she
touched her hair while she talked to him ...  the fact that she stood less
than a foot from him ...  all of those things said that she was interested
in Bobby as a man, and not just as a casual acquaintance.

   She watched Bobby too, and saw the familiarity with which he held, and
cuddled Felicity's baby.  In an explosion of understanding, Renee realized
that Bobby was holding his own child ...  that Felicity was one of the
women Bobby had spoken of, without naming.  It was obvious, now that she
thought about it.  Chester was much too old to be this baby's father, and
he knew that as well as Renee did.  Yet, he had claimed the boy as his own.

   Renee felt a tightness in her chest that was both unfamiliar and
uncomfortable.  As Bobby handed his son back to the woman, and she treated
him with a brilliant smile, Renee decoded that feeling.  She was jealous!
She was jealous of the look in that woman's eyes, and of her smile, given
to her clandestine lover ...  her gigolo!

   Renee was not happy about the conclusion that settled into her brain. 
She did not want to be jealous ...  of Bobby or of any other man, for that
matter.  Yet, she had to admit that it was some form of jealousy that was
making that tight knot in her chest.  It demanded some kind of action.  At
the same time, she wanted to deny it ...  to push it out ...  to banish it
from her mind and body.

   Bobby turned and saw her.  He started toward her.  She almost turned and
walked away from him, but her legs wouldn't obey the command to move.

   "Hi," he said.  He was so casual ...  so normal ...  so ...  Bobby.

   "That's your baby," she heard her mouth say.

   Bobby looked over his shoulder at Felicity, who had rejoined her
husband. Chester had taken the baby, and was holding him, bouncing him just
like Bobby had, while Felicity talked to the people facing them.

   "I thought we were finished talking about that stuff," he said.

   "I want another date," her voice said, to her horror.

   "Do you?" he asked.

   She clamped her mouth close.  At the same time, she realized that her
subconscious mind had done what it had demanded her to do ...  take action.
She DID want another date, if only to claim some part of this man's time.

   "I do," she said, this time on a completely voluntary basis.

   "How about I pick the activity, this time?" he asked, his lips not quite
smiling.

   "What would that be?" she asked.

   "How about we go to the drive-in?" he suggested.

   Renee had never been to a drive-in movie theater.  In her family, that
was considered low-brow.  She'd heard all kinds of stories about what
happened at drive-ins.  But that idea also appealed to the jealous part of
her.  She doubted very much that Bobby had ever taken Felicity Chumley to a
drive-in movie.  She was disgusted with herself for even thinking that.

   "What kind of movie would it be?" she asked.

   "Don't know, and don't care," said Bobby.  "It's not about the movie. 
It's about spending time together."

   "I want to have fun," she said.

   "If it's not fun, we'll leave," he said immediately.  "We'll just go do
something else, until you do have fun."

   "OK," she heard her voice say.  "No funny business," she warned.

   "Yes, Ma'am," said Bobby, for the third time that night.

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

   Renee kept away from him after that, at least in terms of sitting next
to him or standing next to him.  She sat with the women at Mirriam's table,
and tried to submerge herself in the welcome, casual conversation.

   Still, she couldn't help but look at him when he was there, and her eyes
strayed out in the crowd, looking for him when he wasn't there too.  It was
very disturbing to her.

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

   Bobby eventually wandered back to the tables occupied by his mother and
her friends, to get some pie and maybe a piece of cake.  It was about time
for the music and dancing to start, and he wanted dessert now, in case he
got asked to dance.  Prudence was there, and he asked her, as usual, how
Constance was doing.

   "The same," she said, her voice dismal.  "It's been almost nine months,
and I can't get her to leave the house.  She mopes around all day and does
nothing."

   "She loved him," said Bobby gently.

   "I know that!" snapped Prudence.  "I loved Harry too, and I grieved for
him when he was gone, but life goes on!"

   "You grieved for him for a lot longer than nine months," said Bobby,
still gently.

   Prudence looked at him and scowled.

   "I was a fool.  You know that.  It took you to teach me that."

   "I'm just saying that you had a rough time of it too.  Are you so
surprised that Constance is going through the same thing?" Bobby sat down
beside the woman who still called him, once every so often, to come love
her and leave her limp.  Or had anyway, until her son-in-law had been
killed.  Bobby hadn't been to her house in those nine months.

   "It isn't the same thing," said Prudence, stubbornly.  "In the first
place, she was only married to him for a short while.  And she had nothing
to do with him dying." Prudence looked at him.  "A dozen people have tried
to talk to her, but she won't listen." She frowned.  "In fact, practically
everybody has tried to talk to her except you.  Why haven't you talked to
her, Bobby?"

   "I've stayed away," said Bobby, "because I know she had a crush on me,
back before Tim, and I didn't think it would be helpful if I tried to talk
to her."

   "But don't you see?" said Prudence.  "She DID have a connection to you.
And you helped me understand things.  You NEED to go see her."

   "I could just go kidnap her," said Bobby, trying to lighten the mood. 
"You know, go in, put her over my shoulder, and bring her here."

   "That might not be a bad idea," said the mother of the woman they were
talking about.  "In fact, I think that's a great idea!"

   Bobby held up his hands.

   "Now wait a minute.  I was just kidding.  I can't do that."

   "Of course you can," said Prudence.  "I'm her mother.  If I tell you to
do it, you can!"

   "She's a grown woman, Prudence," said Bobby.

   "Well, I was too, and it took you to shake me out of it," said Prudence.
"At least go talk to her.  She'll listen to you.  I know she will."

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

   Bobby wondered if he was doing the right thing as he approached the
house he was so familiar with.  It was almost dark and the fireworks would
start soon.  If he was going to talk her into going to the square, he'd
need to hurry, or there'd be nobody there when they got there.

   He didn't need a key.  People still left their doors unlocked in
Granger. He went in, and went toward Constance's room, where Prudence was
quite sure she'd be.  The door was closed, and he knocked on it.

   "Constance?" he called out.  "It's Bobby."

   There was silence from within.  He knew she was in there, because light
spilled onto his shoes from under the door.  He tried the knob.  It was
locked.  He knocked again.

   "I know you're in there," he said.  "Open the door."

   "Go away," came a faint female voice through the door.

   "I can't do that," he said.  "I promised your mother I'd talk to you."

   "Go away," came the voice again.

   "Open the door, Connie," he said.

   "No!" At least she had the energy to yell.

   He looked at the door frame.  The molding wasn't as tight as it could
be, having separated from the jamb over the years.  He pulled out his
pocket knife and picked the carving blade, which was shorter, but also
slimmer.  He inserted the tip of the blade in the crack between the jamb
and molding and pushed.  He felt the tip of the blade engage the latch, and
felt it move.  The blade wasn't long enough, so he pulled the knife out and
opened the longer blade.  When he slid it into the crack he had to push
harder, but the door popped open.

   Constance was lying on her bed.  She was a mess.  He could tell at once
that she hadn't bathed for a long time.  Her hair was stringy and oily, and
the room stank of stale body odor.  She looked pale and thin.

   "How did you get in?" she asked, listlessly.

   "You wouldn't let me in, so I came in anyway," he said.

   "Go away," she said.

   "Nope," he said.  "I was sent here to get you and bring you back to the
4th of July celebration."

   "I'm not going anywhere," she said.

   "I've been authorized to put you over my shoulder and carry you there,
if that's what it takes," he said.

   She looked at him.  Her eyes were hollow and dark.

   "I want to die," she said.

   "I think that's a bit extreme," said Bobby calmly.

   "I'm too chicken to do anything about it," she said.

   "You stink," said Bobby, stepping toward her.  "You need a shower, and
to wash your hair.  We have to hurry, or it will all be over."

   "I told you I'm not going," she said, with a little heat in her voice.

   "And I explained that I'm expected to bring you back," he said.

   She wouldn't stand up, so he picked her up and carried her to the
bathroom.  She wouldn't take her clothes off, even when he threatened to do
it for her, and she didn't make a noise as he began unbuttoning buttons. 
She wasn't wearing either a bra or panties, and his nose wrinkled at the
smell that wafted off of her as he got her naked.

   Since she wouldn't stand in the shower, he laid her in the tub.  She
reacted violently when he turned on the water, which was cold, at first,
but he held her in the tub.  She started crying, but he held her there
anyway, until the water warmed.

   He was afraid she'd let herself be burned, so he tested the water
several times.  He wanted it hot, but not too hot.  Eventually she sat and
sniffled.

   "I hate you," she said finally.

   "No you don't," he replied, picking up the soap.

   She wouldn't take it.

   "I'm going to wash you," he warned.

   She didn't react.

   There was nothing sexual about this bath.  She sat, as he manipulated
her; this way and that, lifting an arm.  She hadn't shaved her armpits
either and he almost grinned at the black hairs sprouting there.  She
reacted when he forced his hand between her legs, and her hands went to his
wrist to stop him.

   "You going to do it yourself?" he asked.

   She nodded, and he handed her the soap.

   "That back side too," he ordered, when she finished.

   She glared at him, but rolled to slide a soapy hand into the water and
wash between her buttocks.

   "What kind of shampoo should I use?" he asked.

   "Prell," she said, with a little more tone in her voice.

   He didn't ask her if she wanted to wash her hair.  There was a drinking
glass by the sink, and he just used it to pour water over her head.  She
rubbed her eyes clear of water, but didn't say anything.

   He spent ten minutes on her hair, drawing clean water into the glass to
rinse it, because the bathwater looked grey and scummy.  She was willing to
stand, then, and he splashed her with several glasses of clean water.

   "Why are you doing this?" she asked.

   "Because you need to get out and see people," he said.

   "No I don't."

   "Then I'm doing it because you needed a bath," he said.

   She stood, immobile as he dried her off.  He was at her ankles when her
voice fell from above.

   "He's dead, Bobby."

   He stood up, and looked into her sunken, hollow eyes.

   "I know, baby," he said softly.  "I wish he wasn't."

   "He's never coming home," she moaned, her eyes filling with tears.

   "I know that too," he said.  "I wish he was."

   Her emaciated body shivered, incapable of creating enough body heat,
even in summer, to keep her warm.  A tear ran down her cheek.

   Bobby knew she needed a hug.  He didn't want to hug her while she was
naked, but her trembling body demanded it.  She let herself be pulled
against him, and then she bawled.

   He held her, his hands flat on her back, not moving, except to come up
and touch her wet hair now and then.  He just held her and let her cry. 
Eventually her hands rose to lay on his sides.  Eventually she ran out of
energy to cry with.

   "Why did this happen to me?" she moaned.

   "I don't know, honey," he said.  "I can't make it go away, and I can't
explain it.  All I can do is tell you that there are people who love you,
and who are worried about you."

   "I don't want to see them," she moaned.

   "You have to see them sooner or later," he said.  "Let's get you
dressed."

   "But I don't want to go!" she wailed.

   "Then we won't," said Bobby.  "We'll just ride around, or something. 
You need to eat."

   "I'm not hungry," she said.

   "I know, but you need to eat something anyway.  We lost Tim.  We don't
want to lose you too."

   "You didn't lose Tim," she said, with energy in her voice.  "I lost him!
You don't know how that feels."

   "You're right," he said.  "I don't.  But I know how it would feel to
lose you.  Don't make me try to dress you.  I'd rather just take you out of
here naked."

   "You can't do that!" At last he got some emotion, other than melancholy.

   "Well it was hard enough to undress you.  I'm not going to try to dress
a woman who won't help me."

   In the end, she dressed herself.  He had to pick the clothing, but she
put it on.  He didn't have to carry her out of the house, but he had to
threaten to, before she followed him, meekly, to his car.  Her hair was
still wet, but he didn't think that would matter.

   Everything was closed.  He'd forgotten about that.  He told her he'd get
her something and bring it to the car as they parked a block from the
square.  They could hear the music - Western swing, at the moment.

   "You don't have to do that," she sighed.  "It's a long way.  I'll just
go with you."

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

   Whether it was because Prudence had prepped people, or because they just
didn't know what to say to the woman they hadn't seen for nine months, and
who looked like hell warmed over, what happened that night was almost
mystical.  People hugged Constance, and then let her go, to be hugged by
someone else.  In the midst of chaos and revelry, there was almost a quiet
space around her as she let people hug her.  The human spirit is a powerful
thing, and some of that power seeped into Constance, that night.  Words
could not console her, but love is a different thing.  A real hug contains
love.  Anyone can tell the difference between a polite hug, and a real one,
and Constance got a lot of real hugs that night.  She did eat something,
and realized she was starved.

   She didn't dance, and she didn't engage in a lot of conversation.  Her
mother left her alone, for the most part, and so did everyone else once
they had hugged her.  When the fireworks started, Bobby just stood behind
her chair with his fingertips on her shoulders.  When it was over he
offered to take her home.

   Constance was filled with emotions.  There was the pain of loss; the
anger, disappointment, both in the world, and in herself.  Uppermost in the
emotions raging inside her was the desire to be loved, by the man she
loved. It wasn't absurd that some of that transferred to Bobby.

   When he took her in, she clung to him.

   "Make love to me," she moaned.

   "I can't," he said, petting her hair.

   "I need this," she cried.

   "Maybe, someday," he said.  "You'll need that again someday, but now
isn't the right time for that.  You have a long way to go.  You're not
leaning over the cliff, right now, and that's good."

   "I love you," she moaned.  "I've always loved you."

   "And I love you too," he murmured into her hair.  "That's why you have
to listen to me.  This is not the time."

   "Will you stay?" she asked.  "I don't want to be alone anymore."

   He did stay.  They sat on the couch, and she leaned against him.  She
fell into an exhausted sleep, so deep that, when he carried her to her
room, she didn't waken.  He put her in bed, and got a chair, putting it
beside the bed.

   With his feet up on the bed, he leaned back, and slept as well.

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

   On July the fifth, Bobby spent four hours at Jill's house.  While he
took care of Jill, Christy watched the children.  Then Jill took over, and
Christy dragged him to her bedroom.  They all rested and ate, and Bobby
played with Teddy and Jillian, who seemed to think they were brother and
sister, read them two stories from their favorite story book, and put them
both down for a nap.  Then he made love to both women again.

   The conversation while they were making love was remarkably similar.

   "Are you on the pill yet?" asked Bobby, as he pushed deep into Jill.

   "No," she gasped.

   "You know I'm going to get you pregnant again," he warned.

   "I don't care ...  just don't stop!" she panted.

   With Christy, it was simply reversed.

   "You know you're going to get me pregnant again," she gasped, after her
pussy finished rippling around his thick, hard penis.

   "You want me to pull out?" he panted.

   "I want you to go long enough that I can have another orgasm just like
that one," she puffed.

   He left both women sperm soaked, and neither woman cared to get up and
let it drain out of her.

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

   The next day, the scene was the same, except that it took place at the
Chumley mansion.  One difference, though, was Annie's pillow talk.

   "I've missed this so much," she moaned, as Bobby thrust deep into her
famished pussy.

   "I don't see why you don't get yourself a boyfriend," said Bobby, as he
ground the base of his prick against her clit.

   "Boyfriends are too much trouble," she moaned.  "They want to be with
you all the time and they want you to do things for them all the time."

   "You could get this whenever you wanted it," he said, fucking her with
long strokes that made her breasts jiggle.

   "If you'd come around more often, I could get it whenever I wanted it
anyway," she gasped, thrusting her hips up at him.

   "I'm going to get you pregnant again," he moaned.

   "No you're not," she gasped.  "I went on the pill."

   "Ohhhhh," he sighed, jetting her full of sperm, which he felt some
sadness for, because they would languish and die in her body.

   Of course, the whole point of Felicity spreading her legs in welcome to
him was for him to get her pregnant again, and she was much more
enthusiastic about it in private, than she had been in the park in front of
people.

   "I love this," she moaned, as her pussy squeezed his thick stalk.  "I
love our baby ...  I love you."

   "I love making babies with you," he panted, and filled her up with sperm
that would not, he hoped, be wasted.

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

   Felicity had let Annie go first, that day.  Part of that was because she
had read somewhere that a man's second ejaculation, in a short period of
time, was more potent than his first.  Another reason was that she wanted
to keep him there, in bed, so she could accept his gift twice, and it
wouldn't have been fair to Annie to make her wait that long.  They had
become a strange mixture of employer/employee, and best friends, since
giving birth to Bobby's babies on the same day.

   As they lay there and talked, while she exulted in the heavy feel of his
semen soaking into her, she asked him about his family.  He gave her the
update, which included Suzie's desire to go to college and become a doctor.
He didn't think anything about it, and she didn't respond while they lay
there, except to say "That's wonderful."

   The second time he spurted inside her, she lay there, while he propped
up her hips with a pillow, and kissed her goodbye.  She said she expected
him to return to the mansion for four more days, before taking a break for
a while, to see if their mating had been successful.

   Later that evening, when she climbed into bed with Chester, she was
horny again.  She was always horny for Chester after she'd been loved by
Bobby.

   She sucked lovingly at her husband's penis, even though it took a long
time for him to cum.  She didn't mind a bit, and relished the sound of his
sighs as his penis gave up its meager supply of nectar to her mouth.

   Then, as they cuddled, getting ready to fall asleep, she told him about
Suzie.

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

   It was their last scheduled night, when Felicity, after welcoming
Bobby's thick spunk into her womb, lay with him, kissing his chest.

   "Chester and I want to do something for Suzie," she said.

   "What?" asked Bobby, still panting from the exertion of trying to fill
her with life.

   "A scholarship," she said.  "For college and medical school."

   "That's a little extravagant," said Bobby, shocked.

   "Not if she comes back to Granger to practice," she said.  "It would be
something we could do for the community."

   "We're talking a heck of a lot of money," said Bobby.

   "We have more money than we'll ever spend," said Felicity.  "You've
brought us so much joy, Bobby.  And Suzie could do so much good for this
town if she came back here."

   "I'll tell her," said Bobby.  "I don't know what she'll say, though."

   "Why don't you just have her come for an interview," said Felicity. 
"Let us talk to her about it."

   "OK," said Bobby.

   "I'm ready again," she said, sucking at one of his nipples.

   "It's a little quick," he complained.

   "I'm paying you to be quick," she said, reaching for his penis.  "Except
I want you to make it last and last this time."

   Bobby groaned.

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

   Bobby bounced up the steps of Prudence and Constance's home.  He didn't
knock this time, either.  Constance was in the kitchen, packing the picnic
basket.

   They hugged.  It was a long hug, something they'd gotten used to in the
weeks since Constance had begun her journey back amongst the living.  It
was a clinging kind of hug, and tight, that conveyed a lot of unspoken
emotion, going both ways.

   Then they were off to spend some time sitting under a tree, eating, and
talking.  Bobby tried to spend at least an hour or two with Constance each
week, doing simple things, and getting her to go places.  When she had
awakened on the morning of July fifth, in her bed, and still clothed, with
Bobby sleeping in the chair next to the bed, she had cried again, but this
time it was the kind of crying that releases honest emotion, and is a
catharsis, if only a little one.  He had stayed only long enough to see
that she prepared breakfast, and promised to return later.

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

   In the middle of July, Bobby parked his mother's pickup in front of
Renee's house, and knocked on the door, to take her on their second date.
It was a Friday night, and the Big Chief drive-in was showing three horror
movies in a row that night.  The Big Chief was on the south side of
Hutchinson, which made it only about a twenty minute drive for them.

   Renee had been worrying about this date for days, ever since Bobby had
called her to arrange it.  The biggest worry she had was not knowing what
to expect.  She'd heard all kinds of stories; such as one, when she was in
high school, about how drive-ins were responsible for a quarter of all
babies born in the United States in 1968.  She kept telling herself that
Bobby was trustworthy, but a continual flutter in her stomach bothered her
all week.  Their conversation, setting up the date, hadn't helped.

   "I'm really looking forward to this," he'd said on the phone.

   "Why?" she'd asked, instinctively.

   "You're fun to be with," he said.

   "Why?" she asked again.  He hadn't been quite so excited after the last
time.

   "Can't a guy just enjoy being with a good looking woman?" he asked.

   "You're flirting with me again," she warned him.

   "Can't help it," he said.  "It's a date.  I'm supposed to flirt with you
on a date." There was a pause, as she tried to think of something to say.
"Besides," he went on.  "It will be our second date.  I might get to kiss
you good night."

   "I don't know about that," she said automatically.  She felt a glow,
though, at his desire for her.  Then she shook her head.  He wasn't
supposed to desire her!  "I don't think kissing is the kind of date I had
in mind."

   "We'll see," he said, his voice light.  "A guy can hope, can't he?"

   Now, as she stepped out of the house, and saw the truck, she stopped.

   "We're going in that?" she asked.  "You're taking me out in a rusty old
truck?"

   "I have a devious plan," he said casually.  "A pickup is the best
vehicle in the world to go to a drive-in in.

   "Why?" she asked, staring at the truck.

   "I'll show you," he said, taking her hand and pulling her toward the
truck.

   A large tarp was rolled up, in the front of the bed.  There were two
sleeping bags lying in the bed too, and a cooler.

   "I'll park the truck backwards and roll out the bags when we get there,"
he said.  "We can lie up against the tarp, and relax.  We have snacks and
drinks in the cooler.  It'll be great."

   "It'll be like a bed!" she pointed out.

   "True," he said.  "But I'll be on my best behavior."

   "Uh huh," she said, doubtfully.

   "Come on," he wheedled.  "We'll be comfortable.  People will be parked
next to us.  What could I possibly do in a situation like that?  Besides,
you're calling the shots, remember?"

   She stood there, uncertainly.

   "Remember, we can leave if you don't like it," he reminded her.

   It was that ...  at least she wanted to believe it was that ...  that
tipped the scales in his favor.

   "OK," she said.

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

   It was the middle of the second movie, and Renee was both having fun,
and mystified.  She didn't think she'd do well with scary movies,
especially movies like "High School Zombies", "The Killer Trees of Calhoun
County" and "Pod Terror".

   What saved the night for her was that the movies were SO bad that they
were funny, rather than scary.  Well, there were scary parts, which seemed
strange, because thirty minutes into "High School Zombies" she knew what
was going to happen before it happened.  Still, the tension of waiting for
it to happen seeped into her, and the gore, even though patently fake, was
enough to make her shudder.

   Things had gone exactly as Bobby had predicted, with a couple of
exceptions.  When he backed over the hump and got the truck the way he'd
wanted it, they were about two thirds of the way back from the screen. 
They did have one car beside them, but the space he'd chosen was right next
to the trees that encircled the drive-in.

   The teenagers in the car that parked next to them immediately got out
and drifted off to find friends.  The car sat empty through the first
movie, leaving Bobby and Renee more or less alone, next to the trees.

   The bed Bobby had made had, in fact, been quite comfortable, and there
was plenty of room for both of them to lie there without touching each
other.  He had even put the cooler between their legs, saying it would be
easily accessible to both of them that way.

   His snacks were good too, much better than what she'd have thought to
bring.  He had pieces of pie and cake, and celery and carrots with some
kind of delicious homemade dip.  Bottles of pop were in the bottom, nestled
amidst ice cubes.  There was also cold meatloaf and fried chicken.

   What was puzzling to Renee, halfway through "The Killer Trees of Calhoun
County", where sentient trees snatched up unwary teenagers and somehow
sucked the blood from their bodies, leaving them hanging in the branches,
lifeless and pale, was how she had come to be pressed up against Bobby,
with his arm around her.

   She lay there, quite comfortable, enjoying the feel of his body against
hers, and his arm around her, and tried to remember when the cooler had
been moved down, and why she had moved over against him.

   He smelled good, with the faint aroma of some kind of after shave, or
cologne that she couldn't identify.  A tree tore the head off of an unlucky
teenage boy, and waved the headless body in the air on the screen.  She
found her face pressed into Bobby's chest, avoiding the sight of blood
spurting, even though she knew it was fake blood.

   "You OK?" his voice asked.  She could feel the rumble of it in his
chest.

   "It's just so gory," she moaned.

   "That's why nobody but us is watching it," he said.

   "Why aren't they watching it?" she asked.

   "They're too busy making out," he said, laughing.

   She looked up at his face, flickering in the dark, as the light from the
screen reflected off of it.

   "Is that part of your nefarious plan?" she asked.  "Did you bring me
here to make out with me?"

   "Like I said," he chuckled.  "A man can hope."

   She had been nervous, when they'd first arrived.  But his easy manner,
and banter, as they watched the ridiculous first movie, had made her lose
all trace of that nervousness.  And, though she couldn't remember if she'd
moved up against him, or he'd tugged her there, his arm around her didn't
feel threatening at all.  In fact, she liked it.  She hadn't snuggled with
a man in a long time.  Daniel wasn't the snuggling type.

   "We're not supposed to make out," she said.

   "That's why we haven't," he answered.

   "Do you really want to kiss me?" she asked, wondering why she was
asking. He'd already said he wanted to kiss her.

   "Desperately," he said.

   "Like your other women?" she asked, wondering why she was bringing this
up now.

   "I'm not thinking of any of them," he said.  "I'm here with you.  I'm
thinking of you."

   She couldn't resist looking at his lap.  There was the same bulge there
that had always been there ...  no bigger ...  no smaller.  She was
surprised to feel some resentment that it wasn't bigger now.

   "Do you want to leave?" he asked.

   She thought about that.

   "No," she said.  "Are you just trying to get rid of me so you can kiss
me good night?"

   "Not even close," he said, squeezing her with his arm.

   "I haven't kissed a man good night on a date for years," she said.

   "It will come back to you," he chuckled.  "Perhaps we could practice a
little ...  just so you won't be nervous when the time comes."

   She punched him in the stomach, which was hard as a board, even though
he went "Ooof!"

   "You just want to make out with me," she accused.

   "Desperately," he said again.

   "Why?" she asked, doggedly.

   "I like you," he said.  "Isn't that enough?"

   "That's not what we're supposed to do," she insisted.

   "OK," he said.  "Oh look, a tree just ripped a girl's arm off!" He
laughed.  "You can still see that she's got both arms.  I hope they didn't
pay these people a lot to make this film."

   Renee, later, would decide that it was only because he was paying
attention to the stupid movie, instead of her, that she lifted her head and
kissed him.  She didn't intend to kiss him.  She knew that ...  later.  She
would forever be firm in her mind that she hadn't intended to kiss him that
first time, and that all she had been trying to do was take his attention
away from that stupid movie.  Years later, she would go to considerable
expense to find and buy a copy of that movie.  It would be one of her
farovites.

   What Renee would also try to remember, later, was the incredible rush of
emotion that washed over her like a tidal wave, when Bobby kissed her back.
She would decide that the reason it was so powerful, was because, suddenly,
his attention was undeniably centered on her ...  and not the stupid movie.

   Somehow, that kiss turned into another one ...  and another one, longer
and stronger than the first, until they were lying down, ignoring the movie
and everything around them ...  making out.

   They were undeniably making out.  She was aware of that while they were
doing it.  His lips were hungry in a way that told her she was the most
important thing in the world right then.  Her lips returned the passion ...
passion that had built up inside her, unbeknownst to her, and which broke
out of her in a wave that was impossible to control.

   It got completely out of hand, from her perspective.

   First, his hand slid up inside her shirt, and moved all around her
stomach and sides.  Somehow her bra got pushed up, and his hands were on
her breasts, causing streaks of sharp pleasure as he teased her nipples. 
Her nipples got stiff, almost painful, making her moan into his mouth as
they performed another of those amazing kisses.  Somehow her shirt got
unbuttoned, and the warm night air caressed her skin, where his hands were
not.

   She knew what he was doing as he kissed down her jaw, to her throat, and
across her upper chest, skipping over the bra she suddenly wished she
hadn't worn, because it made him have to miss kissing some skin that it
covered.  She knew she should make him stop, but her nipples screamed for
what she knew was coming.

   She heard the groan wrench from her lungs as his lips finally captured a
nipple, and she felt his hand, outside her jeans, pressing between her
legs. That hand seemed to vibrate, and she knew she was cumming, astonished
that she could do so from just this little stimulation.

   It didn't feel like "little" stimulation, though, as he switched
nipples, and continued to rub her.  She tried to feel revulsion for
herself, letting him do these things to her, but it was washed away by more
exquisite feelings as he gave her nipple love, and rubbed her to another
orgasm.

   Then, as if he knew, somehow, the torment she was feeling, he stopped,
and pulled her against him, just holding her.

   "It's OK," he whispered into her hair, as she almost cried.  "It's OK."

   Just as suddenly as the passion had taken control of her body, she got
that control back.  Again, his arms around her just felt good, and not
threatening.  Her passion cooled to a dim glow in her belly.  She thought
about her unbuttoned shirt, and became aware of her naked breasts, against
the fabric of his shirt.  She felt embarrassment, because she had lost
control, and because she wanted it to happen again.

   "Can we go now?" she whispered.

   "Sure," he answered.  "Let me do you back up."

   "No," she said.  "I'll do it." She was suddenly embarrassed.

   "Let me," he said softly.  "I undid you.  I should repair the damage."

   She rolled away from him, and his fingers replaced her bra, and slowly
re-buttoned her shirt.

   "Thank you," he said, as he did it.  She wasn't sure if he was thanking
her for letting him touch her naked breasts, or letting him button her
shirt.

   She didn't want anything to eat.  She didn't want to ride around or
talk. She just wanted to go home.  He walked her to the door.  He didn't
ask to kiss her good night.  He just did it, with his hands on her face. 
It was an astonishingly soft and quick kiss, nothing like the kisses
before. When he said "Thank you," again, she believed him ...  he really
WAS thankful for what had happened.

   She went to bed, her emotions still roiling inside her.  Then, a thought
broke through that would change everything for her.  She had done nothing
for him.  He had asked her for nothing for him.  He hadn't asked her to
touch him.  It was perfectly clear, as they writhed on those sleeping bags,
that he was erect.  Gone was that gentle lump in his pants.  She had felt
that lump grow insistent as they kissed.

   Yet, he had left without being satisfied.  He had said "Thank you," and
meant it.  In that moment, she knew he had given her what she seemed to
need, without knowing she needed it, and put his own desires on the back
burner.

   It was at that moment, when Renee Harqart-Zimmerman realized that Bobby
cared more about her, than he did himself, that she realized why all those
other women looked at him the way they did ...  and the way she would
probably look at him from now on.

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

   On the 20th of July, Suzie heard a knock at her door and looked up from
the book she had been reading while lying in bed.

   "Come in," she called out.  It was Bobby.

   "When are you going to go see the Chumleys?" he asked.  He'd told her
about Felicity's offer of scholarship money a week ago and she hadn't done
anything about it yet.

   "I feel so weird about that," said Suzie.  "I don't know them.  Why
would they offer me a scholarship?"

   "That's something you should ask them," said Bobby, pointedly.

   "I don't have a ride," she said.

   "I'll give you a ride," he responded.

   "You said you'd help me," she countered.

   "I can help you a little," said Bobby.  "I won't be able to pay the
whole thing."

   "I can get some other scholarships," she said.

   "Why are you so set against this?" he asked.

   "I'm not set against it," she said.  "It's just weird.  Why would they
pay my way through school?"

   "They have their reasons," said Bobby.  "Like I said, you should ask
them that.  Besides, it may not be a full scholarship.  She didn't say how
much they were willing to offer you."

   "She's one of those women ...  isn't she?" asked Suzie, finally.  They
both knew what she meant.

   "Why would that matter?" asked her brother.

   "That's what makes it so weird," said Suzie.

   "I want you to at least go tell them you're not interested," he said
firmly.

   "I didn't say I'm not interested," she said.  "I just don't understand
why they'd do this."

   "For the last time," said Bobby, sternly.  "You'll have to ask them
why."

   "You know why ...  don't you?" she said, her intelligence showing
through.

   "Yes," he admitted.  "But I'm not going to tell you."

   "I figured that out, genius," she said, frowning.

   "Get up and get some shoes on," said Bobby.  "I'll take you over there
right now."

   "OK, OK, don't have a cow!" complained Suzie.  "Get out, I need to
change my clothes."

   "No you don't," he said, suspecting that she intended to climb out her
window.  "They're not interested in your clothes.  They're interested in
your mind."

   Suzie finally gave up.  She had in fact been planning to escape.  She
felt extremely uncomfortable at the idea of actually talking to one of
Bobby's women.  It was different with the ones who came to the house.  She
was comfortable with Prudence, and a couple of the others.  But while
everybody in town knew who the Chumleys were, she didn't know anybody ...
other than Bobby ...  who was on friendly terms with them.  To Suzie, they
were big, important, rich people ...  people who wouldn't care about her
... or would have to have some kind of reason for caring.

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

   Two hours later, a very stunned, but very happy, Suzie walked back out
to her brother's car.  He was sitting in the driver's seat, his head back
on the back rest.  Suzie had no way of knowing that Annie had pulled him
into a guest bedroom for a quickie, while she was being interviewed by
Chester Chumley.

   And an interview is what she had had.  There was no doubt about that. 
Suzie had been asked question after question about why she wanted to go
into medicine and how she had prepared for that.  The old man wanted to
know about her grades, and she'd had to sign a release form that would
allow him to examine her school records.  She'd felt like she was being
grilled, at first, and her natural combative nature, which she had just
displayed to Bobby an hour before, came out, until she felt like justifying
herself to Chester Chumley was important, for some reason.

   Then he had simply smiled, and made her an offer.  If she would return
to Granger, and be in general practice there for at least eight years - one
year for each that he would pay for her schooling - she would owe him
nothing.  His offer included a stipend, for room and board.  He stipulated
that he didn't want her trying to work full time while she went to school.
Her job, as his "employee" of sorts, was to do well in school.  If she
wanted to work a few hours a week, just for spending money, or "mad money"
as he called it, that was fine.  She was to supply him with transcripts, at
the end of each year.  If she had a cumulative three point grade average,
he'd pay for the next year.

   Suzie had done her homework.  She informed Chester that when she was in
her residency, she'd be paid for that.  Chester said that money should be
saved, and that the stipend would be intact then too.

   "You'll need a nest egg when you open a practice here," he said.  "You
won't be making much money, at first."

   "What if I want to specialize?" she asked.

   "Then you can pay me back when you get established," he said.  "But
you'll still have to practice here, in Granger."

   When all had been said and done, Chester had stood, shaken her hand, and
said he'd have a contract prepared that would spell out everything.  She
was eighteen already, and could either sign it, or turn him down then.

   She had no intention of turning him down.  This would allow her to live
her dream.  She hadn't really thought about where she would go after med
school.  Coming back to Granger seemed like a wonderful thing to her.  She
would already know people, and they would become her patients.  There was a
hospital in town that might have a ready-made vacancy for her.  If not,
like Chester had suggested, she could open her own family practice.

   The first thing she did, when she got in the car, was kiss her brother,
full on the lips.

   "I know you had something to do with this," she said, pulling back,
somewhat shocked at how that kiss had felt.

   "I take it things went OK?" he asked, grinning.

   "I love you," she said.

   "I know," he said, smiling.  "I love you too."

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

   Renee sat and looked at the official looking document in her hands.  It
had been placed there by the priest, who was sitting across his desk from
her.

   "I can't believe this," she sighed.

   "Believe it," said the priest.  "This one was so cut and dried that it
only took half the time these things usually take."

   "What now?" she asked.

   "Take the decree of annulment ...  I suppose you could mail a notarized
copy ...  to the State of Nevada.  They'll dissolve the marriage, based on
this, and issue their own annulment decree.  I have no idea how long that
will take, but since no court appearance is necessary, it shouldn't be more
than a few months."

   "I'm not married." Her voice had relief in it.

   "You never were married, in the eyes of the church," said the man. 
"I'll expect to see you at mass a little more often, Renee."

   "Of course," she said, automatically.

   "And at confession too?" he prompted.

   "How about now?" she said.

   "I have time," said the priest.

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

   Renee sat in the close confines of the dark confession booth.

   "Forgive me Father, for I have sinned," she started.  "The other night I
let a man kiss me."

   "Kissing isn't normally considered a sin, my child," came the voice
through the grille.  "What was in your heart during this kiss?"

   "Lust, Father," she sighed.

   "Perhaps you should go on after all," said the voice of the man who had
helped her.

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

   Confession had been painful ...  but then it always was.  She wondered
if she'd ever be able to go into that booth and be unable to think of
anything she'd done wrong.  Still, also as usual, she felt better after it
was done.  She had no idea what she was going to do about Bobby, but she
felt better.

   She knew she'd have to see him again.  She didn't even try to analyze
why now.  Her sleep, after the drive-in, had been deep and dreamless, and
she had awakened refreshed, feeling energy that demanded that she get up
and do something useful.

   She had thrown herself into her plans to expand the pre-school.  As if
someone had heard her thoughts, a woman called.  She was named Rhonda
Wilson, and she was looking for full time work with babies and toddlers. 
She told the woman to come over for an interview, and thirty minutes later,
there she was, with her own child, a darling little girl about a year and a
half old.

   Renee liked the woman immediately, and she hired her on the spot.  Only
as an afterthought had she asked "How did you find out about this job?"

   "I have a friend, Bobby Dalton, who told me you might need some help,"
said Rhonda.

   Renee looked at the woman, and then at her little girl.  The hair was
straw colored ...  not black, but she could see Bobby's jaw in the face. 
She wanted to laugh, but kept it in.

   "I know him too," said Renee, carefully.  "He helped me turn this place
into what it is now."

   "He's a wonderful man," said Rhonda, not in the least bit embarrassed to
say it to her new employer.

   As her new employee left, Renee wondered if there were any women in town
who didn't think Bobby was a ...  wonderful man.

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

   To be truthful, Renee didn't plan on hiring Bobby for a third date.  It
wasn't that she didn't want to.  She wanted to very much.  But she knew,
deep in her heart, that, if they went out again, he could do anything with
her that he wanted to and she wouldn't be able to stop him.

   No ...  it wasn't that really either.  She wouldn't want him to stop. 
That taste of sweet ecstasy, that he had given her with just his mouth and
hands, had been so satisfying ...  so electric ...  she knew she would want
that again ...  and more.

   She saw him twice, in the last week of July, almost two weeks after the
drive-in.  The first time was just on the street, as she drove past.  He
was standing, talking to a man on the sidewalk, and her heart fluttered. 
He didn't see her and she didn't stop.  The second time, he dropped in, as
was his habit.  She was thankful that it was during the work day when she
was busy, because being close to him, while he acted completely normally,
made her knees weak.

   He didn't leer at her, or remind her of what had happened.  He simply
asked her how things were going, like he always did, and spent a few
minutes being a horse for a line of children, who waited patiently for
their turn.  Rhonda's face lit up when she saw him, and she thanked him for
suggesting she take the job, telling him she loved it.  He didn't leer at
Rhonda either, but he did pick up her little girl, who seemed to be
familiar with him and smiled.

   He was about to leave, having paid almost no attention to Renee at all,
when he turned.

   "By the way, Chester Chumley and his wife have some extra tickets to the
Starlight Theater in Kansas City.  They offered them to me, but I hate to
go alone."

   Renee felt her heart sink, as her voice said "When?"

   "The thirtieth," he said.  "I believe they said Man of La Mancha is
playing."

   "Starlight Theater?" she asked.

   "It's an outdoor amphitheater.  I got to see Peter Pan there when I was
in high school.  The drama club went on a field trip.  It was a big deal,
back then.  I still remember it as one of the highlights of my life."

   "You were in drama club?" she asked, and then felt stupid for sounding
like she didn't believe him.

   "Just that one year," he said.  "It took too much time away from the
farm, so I had to drop out."

   A ray of hope shone at her.  "We'll be going with them?" she asked.  It
would be like a double date ...  safe.

   "Chester said he'd take care of all the arrangements," said Bobby.

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

   Communication is the key to all successful relationships, even when the
relationship is a temporary one thrown together for the purpose of enabling
four people to go to a musical.

   There WAS communication in this case: Felicity asked Bobby if he'd like
to ask a woman to go to the theater with them.  Bobby said he knew of a
woman who might enjoy that.  Bobby asked that woman if she'd like to go,
and then called Felicity back and said he had a date.  All of that was
communication.

   There was, however, room for error, when assumptions were thrown into
the mix.

   We already know that Renee's assumptions were that she'd be on a double
date, which was comforting to her, because the memory of Bobby's lips and
fingers on her body was still bright in her mind.  Those orgasms had been
delightfully crushing, since she had been without sex for over three months
at the time she'd had them.

   Felicity made some assumptions of her own.  Having grown up in Kansas
City, and having gone to the Starlight Theater on a number of occasions,
knew that the show wouldn't start until after dark and that it would end
very late.  She assumed no one would want to have to hurry back to Granger,
to arrive, exhausted, in the early morning.  It would be much better to
simply stay the night in Kansas City, and get a fresh start in the morning.

   And, Felicity, drawing on her own passionate relationship with Bobby,
made some further assumptions.  She knew that Bobby supplied the same
"service" he had graced her with to other women.  She can be forgiven, at
least by everyone except Renee, for assuming that Bobby would just
naturally ask one of those women on this outing.  Assuming that, she booked
only two rooms at the Crown Hotel.  Remembering her own experience with
Bobby in a hotel room, she assumed that this woman, Renee, would be happy
with that arrangement.

   Chester assumed that his young bride, always efficient, had everything
under control.

   Bobby, for his part, assumed only that he was taking Renee to a musical,
after which they'd return home.  Who knew what would happen then?

   Assumptions, by their very nature, are rarely communicated to others. 
Why tell someone what they allegedly already know?

   Felicity got close when she called Renee and told her to pack a change
of clothes, since they were also planning on taking in the Swope Park Zoo
before the show.  The word "pack" in that conversation, was an unexplained
assumption that there would be an overnight bag in the first place.  Renee
missed the importance of that one little word though.  She just assumed
there would be a place to change clothes, since Felicity was planning
everything.

   The deficit in good communication might have been resolved, had Bobby
picked Renee up and taken her to the Chumley mansion, where she would have
seen Felicity's and Chester's suitcases and overnight bags being loaded
into the back of the Bentley.  But Felicity chose, instead, to pick Renee
up, because her house was on the way to the interstate.  To make matters
worse, when Bobby arrived at the mansion, the Chumley's bags were already
in the car.  Felicity, after kissing Bobby hello, assumed he had already
put his bag in the trunk, when, in fact, Bobby hadn't brought anything at
all.

   As Renee sat in the back of the Chumley's 1965 Bentley flying Spur, as
it purred down the interstate, she finally relaxed a little.  Part of that
was the luxurious nature of the car, which Felicity Chumley was driving. 
Renee's privileged upbringing would have made her quite comfortable in the
Chumley's home and, while the car was even fancier than her father's cars,
she still felt at ease in the presence of wealth.

   Felicity had been chatting since they picked her up.  The easy chatter
from this obviously wealthy and intelligent woman set Renee at ease.  The
conversation was light.  Felicity used the time to "get to know" Renee,
asking her where she had gone to school, and being appropriately impressed
with Renee's background.  Renee expected nothing less from a woman of such
high station as Felicity obviously was, and had no clue that Felicity had
been dirt poor and was educated in a secretary mill.  They talked about
clothes, and shopping, and all kinds of things that two women of the same
basic social stature were familiar with.

   Neither Bobby nor Chester said much.  Chester just sat, humming softly
to himself.  Renee was so relaxed that she noticed only momentarily when
Bobby reached for her hand, and held it lightly in his own between them on
the seat.  It felt good to have her hand held.

   They went straight to the zoo, which was both vast and impressive.  It
just seemed natural as they strolled between enclosures, examining the
animals, for both women to hold the hand of the man they were with.  Renee
particularly loved the huge ape exhibit, which had more than fifty monkeys
in it, jumping and swinging and chasing each other, performing funny
looking antics, and even interacting, to some degree, with the observers
who threw them peanuts or marshmallows.  She sighed at the beauty of the
dolphins, so sleek in their large pool, and so friendly, chittering at the
people leaning over the rail of the pool.

   The first clue Renee had that something was terribly wrong, was when
they got back in the car and drove to the Crown.

   Felicity looked at the watch on her wrist.

   "Excellent!" she exclaimed as she parked the car in front of the big
revolving doors of the hotel.  "No need to hurry changing clothes.  We have
plenty of time to do that and then have a leisurely dinner before the
Starlight."

   "We're changing here?" asked Renee.

   "Of course," said Felicity.  "Where else?"

   "But this is a hotel," said Renee, confused.

   "One of the best," said Felicity.  "I assure you, your room will be
satisfactory."

   Renee didn't have time to ask questions, as Felicity opened the trunk of
the car and started instructing a bell hop which bags would go with which
room.

   "Bobby?" she said, looking up at him.  "Where's your luggage?"

   "I didn't bring any," said Bobby.  "I didn't know we were staying the
night."

   "Of course we're staying the night," said Felicity, impatiently.  "We're
going to the Starlight ..." She blinked.  "Theater," she added weakly.

   Felicity turned to Renee, who was standing there, with a frown on her
face.

   "I just assumed everybody knew ..." she said, faltering.  "The show
won't be over until very late, and ..."

   She looked into the trunk.

   "I told Renee, but I forgot to tell you!" she yipped.

   Renee got it then.  She looked at her suitcase, which had only a dress
in it, then at the four other bags obviously belonging to the Chumleys.

   Renee Harqart, as she now thought of herself, was faced with a dilemma.
She could admit that she had misunderstood, and confess to what was in her
suitcase, but she'd also have to confess that she had no idea they were
spending the night.  That went against the grain of a Harqart.  You didn't
look ignorant or foolish in front of your peers, unless there was no other
option.  Rather unkindly, she dismissed Bobby's predicament.  He was, after
all, just a handyman from Granger, Kansas.  One must understand, too, that
Renee had fallen quite far from what had been her station in life, when she
had been married to a wealthy man, and had a new home, and all the dreams
of a young woman starting a family.  She had dragged herself back up a few
notches, though, and did not want to backslide in front of the Chumleys. 
Had she taken the time to think about it, she'd have realized that those
notches she'd climbed back up had been with significant help from Bobby
Dalton, and that she owed it to him ...  and herself ...  to be true to the
new woman she had become ...  independent ...  in control of her own
destiny again ...  and at least on the way to being happy again.

   For the rest of us, it could have been turned into a humorous little
error ...  just a silly misunderstanding to be laughed about in later
years. The ride in the Bentley, however, had brought back old habits, and
Renee Harqart had no intention of appearing to be either silly or ignorant.


   "We'll just have to make do," she said, her voice much tighter than
she'd have wished it to be.

   "Yes!" said Felicity, obviously relieved.  "We have time to go shopping
for Bobby.  Yes!  That won't be a problem.  The rest of us will get
changed, and then we'll go get Bobby something to wear, and then dinner,
and everything will work out fine!"

   "Can't I just wear this to the theater?" asked Bobby, looking down at
his slacks and shirt, both of which Felicity had purchased for him more
than a year ago.

   Both women sniffed, at the same time.  It would have been humorous, had
the situation allowed it to be.

   "You'll also need something to travel in tomorrow," said Felicity,
frowning a little.

   "Oh, of course," said Bobby, recognizing that his opinion didn't matter
in this situation.  "Why didn't I think of that?" he added, with a tinge of
sarcasm.

   They went inside and Renee was in the process of relaxing again,
thinking she had dodged a bullet, when Felicity turned around and handed
Bobby a key.  She had another one in her hand, which Renee almost reached
for, thinking it was the key to her room.  Her world jerked sideways a
little when Felicity dropped that hand and walked toward the elevator.

   It became blindingly obvious there were only two rooms.

   Renee looked at Bobby, who was looking at her.  He raised one eyebrow,
as if to say "Well lookee there!" and then shrugged, as if to say "This is
none of my doing - you're on your own."

   Renee lagged behind, pulling at Bobby's elbow.

   "There are only two rooms!" she hissed, under her breath.

   "Looks that way," said Bobby.  "You want me to stop her and get things
straightened out?"

   Renee was right back where she'd been, standing by the trunk of the car.
There were streams of people all around them.  Most were nicely dressed. 
This was, indeed, a high class establishment.  She envisioned the scene
that would be made, in front of all those people, as she objected to the
accommodations, and embarrassed Felicity ...  and herself.

   "No," she said tightly.  "We'll talk about this in the room."

   "OK," said Bobby, who wasn't ruffled at all.

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

   The rooms were right next to each other.  Felicity, thinking that all
was well again, now that they had a plan for Bobby, waved gaily and said:
"Come get us when you're ready.  We've still got plenty of time."

   Once in their room, Renee stomped around, while Bobby tipped the porter
who carried in Renee's single suitcase.

   "Why didn't you TELL me this was an overnight thing?" she snapped.

   "I didn't know," said Bobby, shrugging.  "You brought a suitcase," he
pointed out.

   "Yes, but all that's in it is my dress for tonight!" she snarled.  "I
didn't even bring any makeup!  Ohhh, this is a mess!" She looked at him. 
"And staying in a room all night with YOU!"

   Her tone was almost vitriolic, and Bobby was stung.  He knew they had
gone farther at the drive-in than she'd planned on going, but had thought
she'd had a good time.

   "Hey, calm down," he said stiffly.  "I'll go talk to them.  Chester and
I can stay in one room, and you and Felicity can have the other."

   She stomped one foot.

   "Are you INSANE?" she almost shouted.  "She obviously thinks we're
sleeping together!  Why, oh WHY did I ever get mixed up with a hick-town
gigolo?!"

   "You ran into my car, as I recall," said Bobby dryly.  "And what's wrong
with telling them there's been a mistake?  There HAS been a mistake.  It's
just a fact.  People make mistakes."

   "You just don't understand!" she moaned.  "If we do that, it will be
like admitting to them that we're ignorant bumpkins!"

   "Oh, of course," said Bobby, his voice heavy with sarcasm.  "I didn't
think of that, what with me being a bumpkin all my life and all."

   His tone broke through her anger, and she felt a stab of guilt.  He HAD
helped her.

   "I didn't mean it like that," she said, somewhat sullenly.  "It's just
that they're so ..."

   "Rich?" asked Bobby.  "That doesn't matter to me.  But it obviously does
to you.  I like them, and they like me.  And I'm sorry I can only be
myself, instead of the fancy pants man you want.  I thought we'd had a good
time together, even if I got all beat up on our first date, and pushed
things a bit far on our second.  I can see I was wrong about that." He
grinned.  "See there?  It's not so hard to admit you made a mistake."

   Then he wiped the smile off his face.  "But not to worry.  I won't touch
you again.  You'll be perfectly safe.  I'll go stand in the hallway, while
you change.  That sofa over there will be fine for me tonight.  You'll
awaken refreshed and unsullied by the nasty old male prostitute you got
stuck with."

   He turned and walked to the door.  His name was on her lips, as his tone
stung her and made her realize how she'd sounded.  But her pride kept that
name only on her lips, until the door closed solidly behind him.

   Even then, when it finally left her lips, it was only a whisper.

   With nothing else to do, she turned to her suitcase.  A minute later, as
she bent over, wearing only her bra and panties, the memory of his voice,
talking about what a cute butt she had, flitted through her brain.  If she
hadn't been such a bitch, he might be here right now, watching her bend
over to step into her dress.  She knew, deep inside her that he had really
done nothing against her wishes.  She knew that she had loved the feel of
his lips and hands on her ...  that he had forgone his own pleasure,
thinking only of her.  She knew, deep down, that her fear wasn't of him
really.  It was of her desire.  It was true that he was a farm boy from a
small town.  It was true that he had no formal higher education.  It was
true that he'd never be wealthy and flashy.  But ...  he was also caring
... and generous ...  and fun to be around.  He was a nice guy, and he knew
how to make her feel wonderful.  He didn't deserve to be treated like she'd
treated him.

   She stood up in her dress, smoothing it into place.  She'd picked this
dress for Bobby really.  It was clingy and light and the breeze would blow
it around her thighs.  It showed enough cleavage to be interesting, but not
so much as to make her look like a tart.  She had thought of it as a
slightly daring dress, for a safe date.

   She walked to the door and opened it.  He was leaning against the wall
in the hallway, looking distinctly out of place.

   "Come back in," she said.  "I'm sorry."

   "We can just go now," he said.  His voice was cool.

   "Please, Bobby, I'm sorry.  I didn't mean what I said?"

   "Why did you say it then?" he asked.

   "Would you PLEASE come back in the room to talk about this?" she asked,
looking up and down the hall.

   "I don't think that's necessary," he said stiffly.  "Let's just get this
play out of the way, and get through the night, and you can go back home."

   "Bobby," she pleaded.  "At least let me explain."

   "It's all right," he said.  "You don't have to explain anything to me.
Maybe we can talk later."

   She thought about just reaching out and dragging him into the room, but
he stepped to the next door and knocked on it.  He looked back at her.  "Do
you have everything you need for tonight?"

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

   It didn't get any better as they went shopping.  Bobby was polite, but
cool.  He did not touch her, either to help her out of the car, or by
putting his hand in the small of her back, as a man sometimes does to steer
a woman.  He seemed to be completely without opinion as to what clothing he
should get.  "Whatever you think," he said, more than once.  Even Felicity
realized something was amiss.

   "What's wrong with you?" she asked, at one point.

   "I just don't want to be a bother," he said, calmly.

   Felicity knew Bobby better than most other women, having spent hours and
hours in his arms.  She pulled him aside.

   "You want to tell me what's going on?"

   "There's nothing to tell," said Bobby.

   "Did you two have a spat?" asked Felicity.

   "I guess so," he said.  "Don't worry about it."

   "Do you want me to talk to her?"

   "Absolutely not!" said Bobby firmly.  "We'll work it out."

   Felicity looked at him, and took his hand.  She squeezed it, and said
"All right." Then she let his hand drop again.

   Bobby just wore the clothes for the theater out of the store.  His old
clothes were put into a bag, and thrown into the trunk of the car.

   "They'll have the other things you need at the hotel," said Felicity. 
"They have toothbrushes and things like that."

   Dinner wasn't exactly strained, but it wasn't as relaxed as it might
have been either.  Bobby held Renee's chair for her while she sat, and then
he seated himself.  He chatted with Felicity and Chester about things going
on in their lives.  He spoke to Renee too, but much less than to the
others. He didn't exactly ignore her, but he didn't lavish attention on her
either.  Felicity stared at him more than once, but he ignored her.

   Renee wasn't blind.  She realized what was happening.  He had taken her
harsh words to heart.  She knew she had wounded him, calling him a bumpkin,
and the other thing.  Her spirits sagged, as she realized she had hurt the
feelings of a perfectly nice man.  At one point she wondered how it was
that she managed to ruin things with the men in her life.  Then she shook
that off.  Daniel had ruined that, not her.  Bobby was nothing like Daniel.
She tried to catch his eye, and smile, to tell him with her eyes that she
was sorry she'd been so selfish and insensitive.  He didn't look at her,
though, no matter how often she looked at him, across the table.

   Felicity didn't know about Daniel.  At one point she asked what to her
was an obvious question.

   "So, why did you decide to come to Granger and start a childcare
center?"

   Renee had no idea how to respond.  She didn't want to talk about Daniel,
and she had no real explanation for how she ended up in Granger unless she
did.

   "She's a little shy about that," said Bobby, suddenly.  "While we were
working on the renovation, I kind of figured out that she just wanted to
cut the apron strings, and strike out on her own.  Granger was about as far
away as she could get from her parents." He grinned, as if that explained
everything.  "You know how rich parents always want to plan their
children's lives."

   "Oh I do, do I?" asked Felicity archly.

   "Of course you do, Dear," said Chester.  "You've already planned what
schools you're going to send poor Charles to.  And I've heard you talking
to Annie about which finishing schools are acceptable, in case the next one
is a girl." He smiled gently.

   "You're pregnant?" asked Renee.  She put a hand over her mouth.  "Oh,
I'm sorry!  I shouldn't have asked that!"

   "It's all right," said Felicity, as if it didn't matter.  "Not yet, but
we're working on it." Her eyes only touched Bobby, and then moved over to
Chester.

   "I wish you luck," said Renee weakly.

   "I think things will work out well," said Felicity.  "They did last
time."

   Renee realized, with a shock, that if she was correct in her assumptions
...  if Bobby was the man who produced that child with Felicity ...  that
meant they were trying to do it again.  The man sitting across from her was
...  servicing ...  the woman sitting next to her!  And they intended to
get her pregnant!

   That was shocking.  But what was even more shocking was that Felicity's
husband was simply sitting there, smiling benignly.

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

   Renee had, at least to some degree, pushed the fact that Bobby was
sexually available to women for money into the back of her mind.  She had
begun to concentrate on him as just a man.  Now, though, she was reminded
starkly of his status in the community.  He was having sex with Felicity.
She had arranged this little junket, inviting him along, and paying for
everything.  Renee hadn't thought anything about the fact that Felicity
paid for the clothing he was wearing.  She'd originally thought of that as
just making up for her poor communication.  Now, though, it took on a
different flavor in her mind.

   At the same time, it was painfully clear to Renee that Bobby hadn't had
to ask her to come with them.  He could have come alone.  Had he done so,
he could have mated with the woman, right there in the hotel.  The old man
obviously didn't care.  She remembered his aimless humming in the car. 
Maybe he was senile, and didn't even know what was happening!  She glanced
at her rival, and suddenly Felicity didn't seem so sweet, or innocent. 
Maybe she had done this on purpose!  Maybe she had hoped that Renee would
revolt and kick Bobby out, so he could go over to the other room, and sleep
with HER!

   Felicity put her napkin on the table.

   "I'm going to powder my nose." She looked at Renee, one eyebrow raised
in the universal female language of "Are you coming with me?"

   "I'm fine," said Renee, smiling.  She wouldn't go to the bathroom with
that witch if she was going to pee her panties!

   Bobby stood up.  "I'll escort you," he said.  "I'll just visit the men's
room too."

   Felicity smiled at him, and Renee felt her blood begin to boil.

   They weren't even out of sight when the old man to her right spoke.

   "You don't seem to be having a very good time, my dear," he said gently.

   "What?" She was surprised he'd spoken.

   "You seem upset," said the man.  "I get the impression this isn't quite
what you expected."

   Renee blinked.  The man wasn't senile at all.  She was so surprised that
her opinion of him was completely mistaken that she was at a loss for
words.

   "Come now," he said softly.  "The whole point of having you along was to
have fun.  If you're not having fun, then we're wasting our time.  Has
Felicity done something to upset you?" he asked.  "Or is it Bobby?"

   Renee's angst bubbled out of her.

   "It's just that they ...  I mean the two of them ...  how could you just
stand by while they ..."

   "Have sex?" said the old man, that strange smile on his face.  "We
assumed you were having sex with him too."

   "No!" yelped Renee.  "It's just a date!" She blushed furiously at the
disclosure of her consternation.

   "I see," sighed the man.  "It appears we jumped to some incorrect
conclusions.  I'm sorry about that.  It wasn't intended to embarrass you
like this.  I guess we've just gotten too used to Bobby's ways."

   "But why?" moaned Renee.

   Chester chuckled.  "Look at me," he said.  "I was almost eighty when she
married me.  I've been no good to her as a man.  Oh, we play at making
love, and we love each other, but I couldn't give her children.  What was I
to do?  I had no heir ...  no grandchildren to ease an old man's mind as he
nears the end.  We were just lucky that Bobby was there."

   "You feel lucky?" asked Renee, weakly.

   "Bobby's a fine young man.  His seed is strong, and his children are
healthy and full of life.  I feel ten years younger since he brought a baby
into the house." Chester frowned.  "But that's us.  It's inexcusable that
you were placed in this position.  I'll rectify that immediately.  You'll
have your own room tonight."

   He started to get up, obviously prepared to call the hotel and make the
arrangements.

   "Wait!" said Renee.  He paused, and sank back down into his chair.  He
reminded her of her grandfather, who was so kind and understanding to a
little girl, when she broke an expensive vase, or came in from playing all
dirty.

   "It's me," she said.

   "I don't understand," said Chester.

   "Bobby and I have gone out before ...  on dates.  I just wanted to have
some fun.  He told me about ...  what he does.  I didn't want that, but I
didn't know anybody so I ...  I hired him ...  just to take me out, but not
for anything else." She blushed.

   "I understand," said Chester.  "As I said, I'll get you your own room."

   "No, you DON'T understand," she moaned.  "I've been horrible to him.  I
said things ...  horrible things ...  back at the hotel.  I thought
horrible things about you and your wife too!  I thought this all happened
on purpose ...  that it was some scheme.  I feel like such a fool!"

   "You're not a fool," said Chester.  "You have a perfect right to your
opinions and beliefs.  It is my wife and I who erred, believing something
that was not true.  We should have given you much more information before
bringing you here.  I can't tell you how sorry I am for that.  I'm sure
Bobby will understand too."

   "That's just it," moaned Renee.  "Bobby has been wonderful to me.  He
helped me through my ...  through a very hard time for me.  He doesn't
deserve to be treated like I treated him.  If you get me my own room, he'll
think I hate him." She slumped.  "He probably already thinks that."

   "Not wanting to have sex with a man doesn't mean you hate him," said
Chester, gently.  "It only means you don't want to have sex with him. 
Bobby will understand that, too.  Felicity treated him very harshly, in the
beginning, but he was patient with her, and let her feelings evolve."

   "That's the problem," sighed Renee.  "Part of what you saw in me was
jealousy.  When Felicity was talking about having another baby, I knew what
she meant.  I knew that she and Bobby ...  I got jealous.  I DO have
feelings for him.  I just don't WANT to!"

   "Why not?" asked Chester.  "He's a wonderful boy."

   "There are ...  complications," said Renee.

   "Ahhhh," said the old man.  "A husband?"

   "No," she said first.  Then: "Yes, but not really.  I got an annulment."

   "Then what's the problem?" asked Chester.

   "I'm not ready for another man in my life," moaned Renee.

   "But you're jealous of Felicity," he said.

   "Yes, and that's wrong!" said Renee.  "I shouldn't BE jealous.  That's
the thing.  I like Bobby.  I feel things for him ...  but I don't want to
...  and ...  Oh, it's all just so jumbled up in my mind!"

   "I understand," said Chester.  She shot him a dark look and opened her
mouth but he held up a hand.  "No, really, I think I do.  You see, Felicity
went through much the same thing.  She didn't like Bobby at first.  She
didn't want to.  She resisted what I asked of her.  Then, as she got to
know him, she DID like him.  She was afraid she'd like him too much."

   "That's how I feel!" said Renee, sitting up.

   "She was worried that she'd fall in love with him," said Chester.  "But,
you see, Bobby isn't the kind of man who will LET you fall in love with
him. Not that way.  At least not with Felicity.  He has a knack about him
...  he seems to know how to have this kind of relationship, without it
getting ...  messy."

   He looked up.

   "They're coming back.  What do you want me to do?" He seemed poised for
action, somehow.

   "Nothing," said Renee.  "I need to think."

   "There is no shame in knowing what you want," said Chester.  "If the
arrangements for tonight need to be changed, just tell me.  We'll work it
out.  We can even skip the show, and go straight back if that's what will
make you feel better."

   "NO!" gasped Renee.

   "No what?" asked Felicity, nearing the table.  "What's wrong?"

   Chester waved a hand negligently in the air.  "Oh, I was just telling
this delightful young lady about eating grubs when I was in Australia, and
I suggested she'd enjoy them.  Perhaps I was wrong.  I do hope I haven't
ruined your appetite." He reached out and patted Renee's hand.

   "You never told me you were in Australia," said Felicity, as Bobby
seated her.

   "Oh, it was a long time ago, in my misspent youth," said Chester glibly.
"There is much I haven't told you."

   "We must rectify that," said Felicity, reaching for his hand and
squeezing it.  "I want to know everything about you."

   "Later, Darling," said Chester, smiling.  "We don't want to bore the
nice young people who were so kind as to come with us."

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

   Renee mulled over everything, in her mind, that had been said while
Bobby and Felicity were gone.  She couldn't possibly believe that the nice
old man next to her had intended any discomfort for her.  She thought about
her jealousy of Felicity.  Felicity hadn't done anything wrong.  Not if her
husband had actually ASKED her to have Bobby's child.  Twice, now that she
thought of it.  It was strange, but understandable, the way Chester put it.

   She felt horrible for the things she'd said to Bobby.  She couldn't take
them back, as much as she wished she could, now.  Those kinds of hateful
things couldn't just be forgotten.  He was still hurt.  She could tell, in
the stiff way he sat, and the way he ignored her.  She had ruined this
outing ...  for both of them.

   She looked at Bobby.  Knowing that Felicity had had problems with him
... had been upset by him in the same kind of way she, herself was upset by
him ...  that helped somehow.  She had loved what he'd done to her ...  in
the moment.  He had deprived himself to satisfy her.  She felt her eyes
begin to tear up as she realized she had trashed the man who had been so
good to her.

   "What's wrong?" asked Felicity, leaning toward Renee.  "You're crying!"

   "No," said Renee, dabbing at her eyes with her napkin.  "I'm OK."

   Felicity turned to Bobby, her face clouded.

   "What did you do, Bobby?" she demanded.  Bobby looked pained.

   "Nothing!" said Renee, reaching for Felicity's arm.  "It wasn't him.  I
just acted very foolishly, and I can't do anything about it now."

   "Oh," said Felicity, not knowing what to say.

   "They had a misunderstanding," said Chester.  "It will all be worked out
later."

   "Oh," said Felicity, frowning.  It was obvious that Chester had more
information than she did.  Bobby had still refused to talk about it, on the
way to and from the restrooms.  Apparently, Renee had been more forthcoming
to Chester.  She looked at Bobby, who seemed extraordinarily interested in
his veal, and then at Renee, who was obviously trying to control her
emotions.  "Do you two need some time alone?" she asked.

   Renee almost cried again, then, but held it in by pure will.  "No," she
said.  "I'm sure it will all get worked out tonight, after the show."

   Bobby lifted his eyes then, and they locked on Renee's.  He saw the
pleading in them.  In a flash he examined his own behavior, and recognized
it as the pouting that it was.  She owed him nothing, and he owed her
nothing as well.  Except manners.  If his mother had seen him tonight, she
would have tried to take him over her knee.

   He forced a smile, trying to feel it in his face and make it real.

   "I'm sure things will be fine," he said.

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

   The mood lightened a bit, after that.  When dinner was finished, they
drove around Kansas City, and Felicity showed them things from her past. 
Bobby was impressed with The Plaza, and its ornate fountains and glittering
stores.  When Renee took his hand in hers, he let her, and squeezed it
briefly, one time.

   The musical was wonderful, and all of them loved it.  The Man of La
Mancha is a passionate show, containing all the elements that have
fascinated mankind for ages - intrigue, violence, sex, gain, and then loss,
and finally, redemption.  There is something in the show to speak to
everyone.  Renee was no exception.  Various scenes in the musical would
stay with her for years, because it caught her at a very reflective moment
in her life.

   Then, the tension in the little group increased again as they drove back
to the Crown.  It was late, and though Felicity talked about getting
drinks, Chester firmly guided her to their door, leaving Renee and Bobby
standing in front of their own.

   It was Friday night.  Renee had already made a call to make sure that
Rhonda would be able to be at the childcare center, to open it the next
morning.  Business was usualy light on Saturday.  Most of the kids on that
day were drop-ins, staying only a few hours as their parents went off to do
some kind of activity.  With the child care center covered by Rhonda, there
was no need for any of them to rise particularly early the next day.

   Bobby unlocked the door, and held it open for Renee.  She started to
walk past him, and then stopped, and turned to face him, inches away.  She
looked into his face.

   "I'm really, really sorry for the things I said," she whispered.

   "I know," he said.

   "I wish I could take them back.  I know I can't.  I know I hurt you, and
I wish I hadn't.  I wasn't thinking straight."

   "It's OK," he said.  "Why don't we talk about this inside," he
suggested.

   Once iside, Renee stood, uncertainly, in the middle of the sumptuous
living room portion of the suite.

   "Are you still going to sleep on the couch?" she asked.

   Bobby closed the door.

   "I think that would probably be for the best," he said.

   "Why?" she asked.

   "You need time to figure out what you want to do," said Bobby.  "It's as
simple as that.  Me being there would only distract you ...  and you'd
distract me."

   "Are you trying to decide what to do too?" asked Renee.

   "Not really," said Bobby.  "Not in the sense that you are.  I just don't
want to cause you concern, or pain, or anything like that."

   "It isn't you that's causing me pain," she said.  "It's me, really.  I
jump to all kinds of conclusions, and end up believing things that just
aren't true.  I like you, Bobby.  Really I do."

   "I'm glad," he said, smiling.  "We have forever to work this out.  Why
don't you get some sleep, and maybe we can talk some more on the way home
tomorrow."

   "OK," she said.

   She turned and left, and Bobby looked around.  The couch was large, and
looked soft.  There were throw pillows scattered around the room, and he
picked up one of them to lay his head on.  He took his shirt off, and was
planning on draping it over the back of a chair, so it wouldn't be wrinkled
when he put it back on in the morning.

   "Bobby?"

   He turned, to see her standing there.

   "I don't have anything to wear to bed," she said.

   He grinned.

   "Sleep naked," he said.

   She blushed.  "Can I borrow your shirt?"

   "Sure," he said, and tossed it to her.

   "Thank you."

   "You're welcome," he said automatically.

   Almost formally, they parted for the night.

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

   Renee was restless.  The bed seemed huge, for some reason, and she
couldn't seem to find a comfortable position to lie in.  Scenes and songs
from the musical drifted in and out of her thoughts.  - could be better

   She couldn't help but compare herself to the wench, Aldonza.  Not that
she thought of herself as the local whore ...  but Aldonza had treated Don
Quixote very badly, making fun of him, when all he wanted was to elevate
her to the level of being the Lady Dulcinea.

   She couldn't help but compare Bobby to Don Quixote too, in the sense
that he wandered here and there, righting wrongs, and trying to make the
world a better place.  Bobby wasn't crazy, like Don Quixote, tilting at
windmills, and living a fantasy, but his attitude toward life itself was
like that of Don Quixote - always seeing the best in people.

   The final scene, where Dulcinea confesses that she wants to be the woman
Don Quixote perceives her to be, and confesses her love for him, had had
her leaning forward in her seat, under the stars.  Then, when Don Quixote
died, she had almost cried.

   Here, in bed, she felt like Aldonza, uncaring, ignoring the man who
believed her to be a fine lady.  Her Don Quixote was out there on the
couch. If she had driven him away ...  if he ignored her, in the future ...
it would be as if he had died.  The thought of that brought tears to her
eyes.

   She thought of the song she had heard, so many times before, without
knowing the perspective in which the song was originally used.  It was a
little like her own life, when things had gone so terribly bad.  Her dreams
had been dashed, and only Bobby - well, Bobby and his family, really - had
brought her to the point where she could dream an impossible dream.  Yet,
that dream hadn't turned out to be quite as impossible as she'd thought. 
She HAD gotten the annulment.  She DID have a business, and WAS using her
education and talents to make a difference in people's lives.  And Bobby
had offered her ecstasy, with no strings attached, as well.

   She rolled over, and put her face in her arm.  She could smell him on
the shirt he had loaned her.  She could smell that faint odor that she
recognized as ...  Bobby.  Her mind drifted back to the drive-in.  His
kisses had been so deep ...  so passionate.  She had felt like he was
sucking the life force out of her.  But then, his lips and fingers had put
that force back into her, making her feel so wonderful.

   He was right out there ...  in the other room.  He was on the couch
because of her.  She knew that if she hadn't driven him away, he'd be here
...  next to her ...  within reach.

   She got up.

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

   Bobby hadn't been able to sleep either.  He, too, was remembering parts
of the performance they had just seen.  He had no grand plan for his life
...  no dream of being somebody special, or important.

   He thought back on his life.  He had no complaints about his family
life, hard as it had been when he was younger.  He had been surrounded by
love.  While he had had the normal teenage fantasies about girls, he would
never have thought he'd end up making love to all those women.  He hadn't
planned to be a father a dozen times over.  In fact, he realized as he lay
there, he hadn't planned anything at all.  He had just drifted ...  like
Joe had drifted.  True, he hadn't drifted nearly as far away as Joe hdd,
but still, all he was doing was drifting.

   Don Quixote, crazy as he had been, had a dream ...  a desire to save the
world, or at least parts of it, in the form of various people.  He had a
direction to his life, and made a difference.

   Bobby thought about the women in his life.  He could be fairly sure that
he'd made a difference in Martha and Arthur Thompson's lives, if only
because Arthur was off the bottle now.  He felt pretty good about finding a
way for Amanda to communicate with her father, Ron Griggs.  But he wasn't
at all sure that his involvement with anyone else was all that important.
Sure, Renee had been on the skids when he'd met her, but she was strong,
and had recovered, pretty much by herself, as far as he was concerned.  And
the others.  There were the babies of course, but any of them might have
had babies, and any man could have done that.

   He wasn't exactly feeling sorry for himself, but there were scary doubts
in his mind as to whether his easygoing attitude toward sex was helping ...
or hurting.  Renee was certainly terrified of him, and he didn't want to
terrify anyone.

   He heard the click of the door latch and the swish of cloth against her
legs as she walked into the living room area.  He didn't know whether to
let her know he was awake or not.

   "Bobby?" Her voice wasn't hushed.  "Bobby, wake up."

   "I'm awake," he said.

   "I can't sleep," she said.

   "Me either," he responded.

   "Come to bed."

   He wasn't sure he'd heard her correctly.  He lifted his head.

   "What?"

   "I don't want you to sleep on the couch." Her voice sounded soft, but
firm.

   "It's OK," he said.  "I don't mind."

   "Bobby," she said, with a trace of almost disgust in her voice.  "I
don't want to sleep alone tonight."

   He reached above his head, to the lamp on the end table.  He turned the
lamp on, and squinted in the bright light.  She stood there, in his shirt.
It came to the middle of her thighs.  The top two buttons were undone.  Her
hair looked tousled.

   "I don't understand," he said, looking at her.

   "I don't either," she sighed.  "Will you come to bed?"

   "I don't know," he said, tentatively.

   "Why not?" she asked, now sounding impatient.

   "I don't know what you want."

   "Me either," she said.  "Except that I don't want to be alone, and I
want you to be the person I'm not alone with." She blinked, as if she were
trying to figure out if she'd said what she meant to say.

   "There's a problem," said Bobby.

   She just looked at him.

   "I like you."

   "I know you do," she said.  "You made it kind of obvious."

   "But you don't want me to like you ...  like that," he offered.

   "I told you, I don't know what I want.  I've been stupid.  I said
terrible things that I didn't mean, and I don't know why I said them,
except to make you go away."

   "I'm confused," he said.

   "I don't want you to go away," she said, as if that explained
everything.

   "I'm still confused," he admitted.

   "Can we talk about this in bed?" she asked.

   "You can't tell a man to go away, and then turn around and ask him to
get into bed with you," said Bobby.

   "I know that.  I told you, I don't want you to go away anymore."

   "I really like you," said Bobby.

   "You told me that already," she said.

   "What that means is that I'll want to touch you."

   For the first time she paused, before saying anything, like she was
thinking about it.

   "I know that too," she finally said.

   When he got up, her eyes went to his briefs.  He wasn't hard, but that
particular equipment takes up room, even when it isn't hard.  She didn't
look away.

   "You're sure about this?" he asked.

   Instead of saying anything, she went back to the bedroom.  He didn't
know whether to follow her or not.  When she came back out again, she had
her purse with her, and was looking in it.  She reached in and pulled out a
crumpled ten dollar bill.  She held it out to him.

   "This is all I brought," she said.  "Take it, and get in bed." Her voice
was firm.

   "I'll take it later," he said, stepping toward her.  "I don't have any
pockets right now."

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

   Renee bent over and pulled down the covers, which she hadn't even gotten
under, because it was warm in the room.  It was still warm but, despite the
boldness of her behavior, there was still a residual level of nervousness
in her that demanded she do something routine and normal.  Turning down the
covers served that purpose.

   "It really is a cute butt," said Bobby, from behind her.

   She looked over her shoulder, to see him staring, where the shirt had
ridden up to show her bare buttocks.  Once again, she was without panties,
in front of this disturbing man.  Her decision to be bold, however, kept
her from covering what he was looking at.

   "Thank you," she said.

   "No ...  thank YOU," he replied, grinning.

   She pushed at the nervousness, and crawled up on the bed, intentionally
showing him more of her naked buttocks.  It made her feel incredibly
naughty.  It also made her breathing rate increase significantly, as though
crawling onto the bed was a major physical exercise.

   When she rolled onto her side, though, her hand went to re-arrange the
shirt tails, to cover her front.  Bobby just stood there.

   "What are you looking at?" she asked, the nervousness back.

   "I never thought I'd get to see you like this," he said softly.  "You're
so beautiful."

   That brought heat to her face, because of the obvious sincerity in his
voice.

   "Thank you," she said again.

   Her eyes went to his groin.  The bulge looked a little bigger.

   "Do you want me to leave these on?" he asked, his fingers tracing over
the waistband of his briefs.

   "I don't know," she sighed, at war with herself.  Aldonza wanted them
off ...  wanted to see his manhood.  The Lady Dulcinea was a bit shyer.

   He left them on, and got onto the bed himself, lying right in front of
her on his side ...  so close ...  but not yet touching her.  He propped
his head on one hand as she almost moved away from him, skittish at his
nearness.  He reached for one hand, and brought it to his lips.

   "May I do this?" he asked, pressing his warm lips against the back of
her hand.

   "Yes," said Dulcinea.

   "And this?" asked Don Quixote, kissing her fingertips.

   "Yes," sighed Dulcinea.

   "And this?" he whispered, leaning forward to kiss her lips lightly.

   Quite suddenly, Aldonza was there, pressing her lips hungrily against
those of her knight, and just as suddenly, his body was pressed against
hers.  She felt the multiple sensations of her breasts pressed to his
chest, and the lump between his legs pressed into the open space between
her own.  His arms were around her and they rolled, until suddenly he was
on top of her, pressing her into the bed, his lips mashing hers, and his
tongue licking the inside of her mouth.

   She was Renee again, and she was scared, pushing, until she realized
they were still rolling, and she ended up on top of him, her lips sliding
off of his.  She lifted her head, and stared down through a tunnel of hair,
at his face.

   "I like kissing you," he said.

   Aldonza was back in a flash, and pressed her lips against those of the
man under her.  She felt his hands on her bare butt, but then they slid up,
under the shirt, to stroke her lower back.

   What they were doing evolved into an almost wrestling match, with each
of them rolling on top of the other for a few kisses, until the other
wanted dominance again, and pushed.  When he was on top, he often kissed
more than just her lips, moving to nuzzle her neck, and the skin exposed on
her upper chest, where the buttons of his shirt were undone.  Eventually,
when she was on top, she would present her neck to him, to be kissed, and
press the open part of his shirt to his face.

   Soon, he was nuzzling her breasts, through the cloth, moving them with
his chin, or mouth or cheeks.

   "You want this too, don't you?" he murmured, as he felt a stiff nipple
under the cloth scrape over his cheek.

   "You need a shave," she panted, not answering his question, but
thrusting her breasts against his face.

   She pushed, and straddled him, pressing her naked pussy against the lump
in his shorts, which was now very firm.  She lowered her neck to his lips.

   "You're scratching me," she complained, holding her neck there so he
could kiss it, and nibble her ear.

   Then he was on top, sitting up.  He let his fingers play over her
cloth-covered breasts, stroking lightly.

   "You're my Don Quixote," she whispered, as she watched his fingers bring
her the delightful sensations.

   "You're my lady Dulcinea," he said back.

   "Lady Dulcinea wouldn't let you do that," she said.

   He unbuttoned two more buttons, and was spreading the cloth apart, when
she lifted her knees, making him fall forward, and rolled, to sit on top of
him, like he had been sitting on top of her.  Her hands went to his wrists,
and held them to the bed, as her lips crushed his, and their tongues
dueled.

   He twisted his face aside, and went to her neck, while she arched it,
letting him nuzzle her there.  His lips went on down between her breasts.
He could almost see a nipple inside the hanging shirt.

   Her hands came up off the bed so easily that she knew she was helpless,
as the muscles in his arms bunched and she was lifted as if she weighed
nothing.  Rather than letting him press her to the bed again, she tried to
crawl away, as she was pushed off of him.  She felt his hands on her hips,
stopping her.

   He held her there, on her hands and knees and she felt his scratchy chin
on her tender butt cheek.  Looking over her shoulder at him, shaking the
hair out of her eyes, she saw him kissing her buttocks.

   "What are you doing?!" she gasped.

   "Kissing you," he said, between kisses that she felt both as warm lips,
and scratchy stubble.

   "My butt?" she moaned.

   "Everywhere," he said, pushing the shirt up to expose her lower back,
and drifting his lips across that.  He kept pushing, until she felt cool
air on her hanging breasts, as he kissed higher, along her backbone.

   She felt his groin press against her butt, as he kissed higher, and his
hands slid along her sides, moving to the front, to catch and weigh her
breasts in his hands.  She'd never been in this position with a man, and it
was both strange and exciting, somehow, at the same time.

   "Ohhhhh," she sighed.

   She dropped her head, to look between her knees.  Full white briefs
showed, pressed against her.

   "Stop!" she barked.

   He did, instantly, and that let her hold her position.

   "I want your underwear off now," she said, her voice breathy.

   His hands stroked her exposed buttocks.

   "You play a dangerous game, Lady Dulcinea."

   "Take them off," she said, her voice more firm.

   He didn't question her, but as he pushed his briefs down, and off,
sitting sideways, he also knew it wasn't time, yet, for him to use his
prick.  That she had stayed where she was, presenting herself to him, might
have suggested to another man that she wanted to be mounted, like a mare,
but Bobby knew, somehow, that wasn't what she wanted.  Not yet.

   So, once he was naked, he simply resumed what he had been doing, lying
partially on her back, and running his hands all over her sides, and front.
He didn't pay particular attention to her nipples, other than to slide his
hands over them.

   Again, Renee dropped her head, letting it touch the bed, as she looked
between her legs.

   There it was.

   The thing she had worried so much about was pressed between her legs,
hanging down slightly.  It almost looked as if she had suddenly become
male. Aldonza surged in her body, and she reached for it, to let her
fingers explore, lightly, its feel ...  its length.  She had to stretch to
get her fingers on the heavy sack behind it, which felt leathery and full.
Aldonza wanted this thing.

   She watched as he thrust it against her, and it slid along puffy pussy
lips.  Only one of these things had ever gone inside her, but it seemed
like forever since that had happened.  She was impatient, now, but
helpless, with him controlling her ...  on top of her ...  holding her
against him as his useless thrusts made her itching to feel filled.

   Then his weight was gone, and the magnificent tool between her legs was
gone too.  She thought to flop onto her back, with her legs open in
welcome. Aldonza was controlling her now, demanding sex, and pushing the
Lady Dulcinea away with a snort of derision.

   Then, before she could move, she felt his hands brush the front of her
thighs, making them spread even more, and then his hands on her hips again,
in a different position.  She saw the top of his head appear between her
knees, face up, and felt him take up his weight as he pulled himself up,
moving his face beneath where his phallus had been hanging.

   His face rose, and she felt his warm, wet tongue pushing her labia
apart, seeking entrance.

   Aldonza squealed inside her head, but it was the Lady Dulcinea who
groaned, and let her weight down as he lovingly sucked at her sex.  His
nose moved back and forth, in perfect position to flick and push her clit.

   "Ahhhhhhhh," she moaned, lifting her pussy slightly.

   What nasty thing was Quixote doing to her now?  How could this
perversion feel so fantastically wonderful?

   Aldonza laughed at the lady, and pushed her aside.  She took over and
ground her pussy against his face, feeling the prickle of his unshaven chin
scrape the inside of her thighs.

   An orgasm surprised her, and she went limp, except for her knees, which
were locked into position as he slurped.  She felt her pussy clench, and
knew it was dripping onto his face.  He slurped and sucked it all away.

   The world tipped, and she fell, only to feel his hands on the inside of
her knees, pushing her legs apart until her hips complained.  His tongue
was back, licking all over, even her thighs, where his whiskers had poked
her.  Her hands flailed as another orgasm rushed toward her and he started
mauling her clit with his teeth, lips and tongue.  She thought she'd faint
if he kept on, and her hands went limply to his hair to push,
ineffectually.

   His face rubbed through her pubic hair and came to rain kisses on her
abdomen, between that hair and her navel.  His hands came to her breasts
again, under the shirt, and his fingers found her nipples now ... 
squeezing ...  almost, but not quite painfully.

   Now she felt like Aldonza, when the muleteers were raping her ... 
helpless ...  unable to fend them off ...  ashamed that what they were
doing to her excited her so much.

   He lifted, to his knees and one hand, while the other one went to the
two remaining buttons that kept her breasts covered.  She felt suddenly
naked, the Lady again, shy about letting the knight see her charms
revealed. Her hands went to flutter at his hands, not quite pushing them
away, but trying to inhibit the success of his fingers.

   "You want this," he said, his voice deep.

   "I do?" she gasped.

   "Yes," he said.

   "Oh," she sighed, letting her hands fall away.

   He finished unbuttoning the shirt, but only parted it a few inches, and
then went back to all fours to lower his face and kiss the exposed skin.

   "I love your taste," he said.

   Her mind jarred, for a few seconds, trying to figure out if he meant her
taste ...  down there ...  or where his tongue and lips were tasting now.
Slowly, though, as his nose pushed the shirt farther and farther apart, and
he began to lick and kiss the swells that were exposed, she decided it
didn't matter, as long as he didn't stop what he was doing.

   The Lady Dulcinea wanted this ...  this gentle, romantic exploration of
her body.

   But Aldonza snarled, when all he did was lick the very edge of a
still-covered areola, and sent her hand to pull at the cloth, exposing the
stiff nipple.  He swooped on that instantly, sucking hard, and she writhed
at the sweet pain of his sucking lips.

   He went on and on, and then moved to uncover the other one and suck
lustily at that one too, like a starving baby, trying to get a flow of milk
going.

   He spent ten minutes, just on her nipples.

   Then he went back to kissing her belly, and her hips, and the tops of
her thighs, only occasionally swiping his tongue in the furrow of her sex,
until Aldonza screamed at him to take her, like a man should take a woman.

   Instead, he fell on her and rolled, to put her on top of him again.

   She sat, hot-eyed, looking down at him, and felt his erection, pressed
between her pussy lips.  It was simplicity itself to move her hips,
dragging her wet sex along the thing she knew she could have now ...  could
let herself have ...  had to have.  Part of her mind exulted in the
decision she had made.  She had been right.  He hadn't just taken her, like
an animal, rutting and grunting and seeking his own pleasure.

   She groaned as she tried to exert the same kind of discipline, rubbing
her sex all over his prick, leaning forward to seek an orgasm ...  just by
rubbing ...  delaying the supreme pleasure she knew she'd feel when he was
finally inside her.  She dangled her nipple in his face, letting the stiff
nubbin scrape across his chin.

   "More," she panted.

   She rubbed, while he sucked, and the orgasm she sought came, slowly,
like slow moving lava, engulfing her with its heat, consuming her.

   In the midst of that, she could no longer wait, and reached to find his
stalk, and guide it into her.

   She wanted to tease herself even more, letting just a little in, and
rubbing some more, taking him a millimeter at a time, but Aldonza had been
put off as long as she could stand it, and her arms pushed hard as she
impaled herself on him.

   She was amazed, excited and dismayed, to feel the wet heat of his
ejaculation, as soon as he was buried in her.  His groans, in time with the
pulsing of his penis, punctuated the spurts that soaked her.  Her delight
that he was this excited was tempered only by her fear that the thick
thing, now filling her so beautifully, would shrink, and become useless to
her.

   It did not, though.

   With a squeal of happiness, she realized it wasn't shrinking, and began
a wild rotation, and almost spastic hip action that dragged his penis all
along her famished channel.  All her concentration went to her pussy, to
feel that thing stroke her insides, and to grind her clit against the base,
as yet another orgasm lifted its head and grinned at her.

   "Ohhhh," she panted in disbelief, feeling it coming.  "Ohhhh yessss!"

   That one wasn't silky smooth, making her loins burn, like the last one.
The knowledge that he had been so impassioned as to fill her instantly,
combined with the feel of the product of that heavy, leathery sack she'd
felt, exploded in her loins and she sobbed, with both relief and agony, as
her whole lower body spasmed.

   Unable to muster the strength to keep herself up, she flopped on top of
him, and felt his whiskers dig into her upper chest.  His arms went around
her and his hands were like little feet, sliding all over her back in a
whirling dance.

   She forced strength into her neck, to move her head, and bring her lips
to his.  Her kiss was soft, and brief, as even that overtaxed her, and she
wilted on top of him, like a wet rag.

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

   Renee - she was Renee again - lay supine and helpless.  She had no idea
how long this had been going on, but, after a short respite, which she
spent just trying to breathe, he had started all over again.

   She had wanted just to lie there, exulting in the feel of being
supremely satisfied, next to the man who had satisfied her, but she
couldn't say no when his hands started to drift across her, and his lips
began to explore her body again.

   She closed her eyes, no longer thinking about the musical, but of the
man who was with her.  Bobby Dalton.  It was Bobby who had done these
things to her ...  had loved her so well.  As his lips teased her nipples
again, and his fingers traced along her soaked pussy lips, she understood,
with crystal clarity, why those other women looked at him the way they did,
and smiled at him the way they did ...  and came back.  As she let him roll
her, to lie behind her, holding her and kissing the back of her neck, she
knew she owed Felicity an apology ...  that she could never again be
jealous of her.  She understood why Felicity wanted him.  She wanted him
too.

   Her relaxed body jerked as he wormed his penis into her from behind. 
She hadn't expected him to be able to do this again so soon.  Her knees
came up, automatically, to give him room to get in deeper, and she arched
her back, for the same reason.  He continued kissing her back, and letting
his hands slide all over her, as he thrust gently.

   No orgasm threatened.  This just felt marvelous.

   Then he was manhandling her onto her hands and knees again, his hands on
her hips.  She didn't have the energy to hold her front half up, and lay
her head on her arms, just waiting for whatever might come next.  The feel
of the blunt tip of his sexual spear spreading her labia came as only a
tiny surprise, now, and did not have the feel of animalism to it.

   She welcomed this, because he went deep into her, and it felt just as
good as when they had been spooning.  She felt his hand snake around her
side, and his fingers searching for her clit.

   "Nooooooo," she whined, not yet capable of feeling another orgasm.  It
was too much.  She felt too good.  It was too nice to just rest like this,
and be made to feel so good by his internal, sexual massage.

   She couldn't stop him, though, and his fingers fed her the energy she
needed to face what she felt coming.  She'd never had an orgasm curled up
like this, unable to move because of the weight of his body freezing her
into this bent-over position.  Now she was the mare, unable to get away
from the stallion that humped harder and harder into her hindquarters.

   Then that guttural grunting sounded, and he spurted again.

   It was that offering ...  the feel of his sperm rushing into her that
triggered her orgasm, rather than his fingers, though they helped.

   They both fell sideways, spooning again, his prod still in her.  She
felt the grip of his arms around her relax, as his body sagged, and he
finally ran out of energy.

   Ten minutes later, they both slept.

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

   Renee woke.  She was instantly aware of where she was, and whose arms
were still around her.  She moved her arms and legs, almost tentatively, as
if to feel for injury ...  to see if they still worked.  She could hear him
breathing, and feel the warmth of that breath on the back of her neck.

   She felt like she was a mess.  The insides of her thighs were sticky. 
She'd never been made love to like that.  Never.  She couldn't imagine it
ever happening again.  Not like that.  His passion had been almost
overwhelming ...  the kind of passion that could not possibly be the result
of self satisfaction.  Last night he had given himself to her, as
completely as a man could give himself.  It was that that kept her there,
in his arms, while her body yearned to feel hot water washing her clean of
the sweat their lovemaking had generated.

   She squeezed with her kegel muscles, expecting to feel tenderness, but
there was nothing but the feeling of emptiness ...  normalcy.  She was
mildly astonished that what had to have been literally hours of lovemaking
had left her feeling normal.  Only her level of relaxation and contentment
were left, as signs that what had happened had been something very good.

   She felt no guilt.  She knew she'd have to confess, to the priest, and
maybe then she'd feel guilty about the fornication she had indulged in. 
Her mind rebelled.  That wasn't fornication.  Nothing that sweet and tender
and amazing could be simple fornication.  She had been made love to last
night.  The room had been filled with love.  SHE had been filled with love.

   Her ears registered the change in his breathing that meant he was awake
too, and her whole body shivered in one convulsive shudder as he licked the
back of her neck.

   "Morning." His voice was thick, like his mouth was dry.

   Suddenly, she was almost overwhelmed by the surge of emotion in her. 
She couldn't look at him.  No woman could look a man in the face after what
he had done for her ...  with her ...  like that.  She felt like she barely
knew him ...  and yet she knew him better than any other man she'd ever
known.

   "Shower!" she yipped.  It was an excuse to leave him.  To get control of
herself.  To let the warm water cleanse her of the nervousness ...  the
awkwardness ...  of waking in his arms.

   She didn't count on him following her into the shower.

   In fact he gave her a few minutes alone, before his shadow loomed
through the glass door, and he opened it to step inside with her.

   "Bobby!" she objected, still not ready to face him.

   "You want this too," he said, from behind her, his hands smoothing over
her shoulders.

   Almost instantly she knew she DID want this too.  How could he know
that?

   She stood, docile, as his soapy hands roamed all over her.  She felt
uncomfortable, as his hand cleaned between her legs, and she went up on
tiptoes, trying unsuccessfully to get away from that hand.

   Within seconds, though, his soapy fingers had lit the fire in her loins
again.  The smoldering ashes of last night burst into flames, and she
turned to kiss him.

   He reached to turn off the water, still kissing her, and they kissed
until their bodies no longer dripped on the tile floor of the shower.  She
let him dry her, still just standing, as he tended to her.  She knew he was
going to take her again, and did nothing to stop him.

   When he pushed her toward the bathroom door, she walked quietly to the
bed.  They had torn it to pieces the night before, but she smoothed the
sheet with her hands, and lay down, spreading her legs, as if what was to
happen was inevitable.

   He crawled between her legs immediately, and tested her with the tip of
his stiff prick, held in his fist.  She was slippery and wet.

   Gone were the teasing kisses ...  his tongue drifting across her body.
His lips captured a nipple and he sucked as he slid into her.  Finally, she
could open her eyes.  This was the Bobby she knew, and could look at.  His
blue eyes stared down into hers.

   "I'm glad we got things straightened out," he said, thrusting and
rotating his hips.

   She moved his head to the other nipple, and thrust her hips up at him.

   Renee felt the strength in his hips, as soon as she laid her hands on
them.  She felt his muscles bunch, as he began to thrust into her, driving
deep, speeding up.  Somehow, the base of his penis crushed her clit each
time he went in, even though he was only in for a second.  This felt
different, as she lay on her back, wide open for him, her heels digging
into the bed, to thrust against him.

   This, she decided, was mating.  In that instant, she didn't want him to
make love to her.  She wanted him to mate with her, to claim her, to extend
his passion for her into something that would last forever.

   Her orgasm was different this time too, coming in sharp, stabbing waves,
as her pussy spasmed around the invader that was ravishing her.  She felt
the waves of pleasure whirl in her belly, only sharpening as he began to
pant harder, and pound harder.

   Her orgasm was over when he pushed hard, and his face twisted into a
grimace.  Then his eyes snapped open and stared into hers, as his penis
jumped inside her, and began to spurt.

   "Ohhhh Renee," he sighed.  "Thank you so much."

   She lay there, accepting his seed, wanting his seed, loving the hot
spurting feel of its delivery.  This just felt right somehow, as if, for
the first time in her life, she was really complete, as a woman.

   Thirty minutes later, Renee stood, fully dressed, holding Bobby's left
hand, while his right tapped on the Chumley's door.  Felicity opened it,
and surveyed the couple in the hall.

   Women can tell, somehow.  It's not scientific, but they can tell.  One
woman recognizes another who has been well-fucked.

   "I'm so glad you worked things out," she said, smiling.

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

   The rest of the morning was almost anticlimactic in its normalcy.

   They had breakfast in the hotel restaurant, while bellhops collected
their bags and had them ready to put back in the car.  The trip home was
almost a carbon copy of the trip there, except that Renee felt only
contentment as she sat holding Bobby's hand.

   Felicity made no comments, either veiled or otherwise, but the looks the
women traded communicated in that secret way women have of communicating
without words.  Felicity's look of "I'm so happy for you," was returned
with Renee's look of "I'm so happy for me too."

   "Do you want me to drop you off at home?" asked Felicity, as they neared
Granger.

   "My car is at your place," said Bobby.  "I can take her home from
there."

   When they arrived, it was to find Rhonda, carefully looking after three
children, all over three, but under six, years of age.  Rhonda took one
look at Renee, and said things were under control, and to take her time
unpacking.  Bobby offered to carry her suitcase to her room for her.

   Something fundamental had altered in Renee's makeup.  Once they were in
her bedroom, it only seemed natural for Bobby to hold her and kiss her. 
Where, before, she would have pushed him away, now she held him close. 
Where, before, she would have been horrified when he undressed her, with
Rhonda out in the play room with the children, now she let him.

   Naked, on her own bed, with Bobby thrusting deep in her, mating with her
again, she even discovered a sense of humor in the joy she was
experiencing.

   "All this ...  for just ten dollars?" she panted.

   "I'll put the rest," he sighed, "on your tab."

   Then he spurted in her again.

   He left her lying naked, her legs limply spread, her pussy running over
with thick, virile spunk.

   He stopped on the way out to give Rhonda a deep kiss.

   "She's taking a nap," he said, when he pulled away.

   Rhonda, her knees slightly weak, said: "I just bet she is."

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

   Renee wouldn't have been all that surprised, as the next weeks went by,
to find that she was just like all the other women who had tasted Bobby's
lovemaking.  She never turned him down when he walked through her door,
smiling.  There were occasions, when she was working, that he stayed only
long enough to see if there was anything she needed, in terms of his
handyman skills.  She found that if she said "Not right now," he always
returned ...  later ...  when she wasn't working.

   She also found, to her delight, that he DID make love to her again, as
opposed to just mating with her.  She admitted to herself that she loved
both styles, but counted herself very lucky that, sometimes, he delayed his
gratification until she was frantic to feel him spurting in her.

   She barely noticed that every day visits became every other day visits,
until he had weaned her onto three visits a week.

   And it wasn't until late September, the twenty-second to be exact, when
Bobby stopped in only long enough to tell her he couldn't stay, because his
sister, Linda, was having a baby, that she realized she had missed a
period.

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

   Linda fell back onto the half-raised bed, limp, and exhausted.  She was
completely sure that, if her last push had failed ...  if she hadn't
delivered her baby with that push, she would have been unable to push
again. Paul had stayed with her throughout her labor, but had become dizzy
when he saw the baby's head crown, as they moved her to the delivery room.
Her mother had stepped in to coach her through the rest, and now stood,
smiling, wiping her daughter's forehead with a cool, damp cloth.

   There was a strangled cry, from between her legs, where the intense
pressure had suddenly vanished, along with the excruciating pain in her
hips.

   "Lie still, please," said the doctor, handing a wrinkled almost blue
looking thing to a nurse, who received it with an open blanket over her
hands.  She wrapped it up and whisked it to a table nearby to do the things
that medical people do with newly delivered babies.

   The doctor smiled.  "Boy," he said.  "Good looking tyke, if I do say so
myself." He smiled a patently false smile.  "Now, I need you to push one
more time, to deliver the afterbirth."

   "Ohhhhh," moaned Linda helplessly.

   "You can do it," said Mirriam.  "Almost done now."

   "You did this eight times?" whined her daughter.

   "Nine," said Mirriam, still smiling.

   "Push now," said the doctor, as her belly rippled again.  "You can hold
your son as soon as this is done."

   That gave her the strength, and she pushed, feeling like there was
nothing to push against.  The doctor made happy sounds, though, so she kept
at it, until he said: "Done.  Good job, Linda."

   The nurse approached with the blanket-wrapped bundle, and Linda's arms
came up.  Someone raised the bed even higher, so she was almost sitting,
and the impossibly small, impossibly light bundle was put into her arms. 
Mirriam's hand reached to the blanket and pulled the folds away from a tiny
face, pink now, that had eyes tightly closed, beneath a head of coal black,
thick hair.

   "Hi Randall," said Linda.  "I'm your mommy."

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

   Late in September, Bobby took Constance to the fair.  She mingled with
the crowds without any problem, and they rode some rides together.  The
only sign that she was still vulnerable was that she held his hand almost
constantly, and needed several long hugs.

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

   In October, as Renee coped with the notion that she was going to have a
baby, Felicity Chumley strained up against Bobby, as he thrust into her and
delivered yet another dose of baby makers.

   "I'm pregnant," she panted, feeling his jumping penis give her what she
wanted.

   "Why are we doing this then?" he gasped, as his penis jumped three more
times.

   "Because I love it," sighed Felicity.

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

   Each time Bobby visited the childcare center, in his role as the
official handyman of the place, Rhonda saw him.  They usually chatted, and,
more often than not, Rhonda got a kiss or two.  She also saw him when he
came to spend time with Elizabeth, who was now almost two years old.  Her
relationship with Herb hadn't changed really.  Herb wanted little to do
with Elizabeth, though he seemed to be getting a little more interested in
her as her personality developed.  He still had his boyfriends.  In good
weather, he usually met them at the houseboat.  For Rhonda, it was more
like having a roommate to share expenses with, than a husband, but she
didn't mind.  Elizabeth had given her a mission in life.

   While Rhonda felt completely comfortable about hugging Bobby, and
kissing him like a real husband, she had shied away from going farther with
him, since Elizabeth had been born.  She couldn't put her finger on it,
really, except that just having him spend time with her seemed to be
enough. He wasn't like a real husband either, though she thought of him
that way more than she did Herb, now.

   It was on a night in November, when the weather had become cold enough
that Bobby had had to start the furnace for her, that she felt that
peculiar tug again.

   Bobby was reading Elizabeth a story, one of the innumerable Berenstain
Bears books that had somehow piled up in the house.  They were Elizabeth's
favorites, particularly when Bobby read them, because he could use
different voices for the different characters, and sound like a real bear.

   Rhonda had been working on decorations for the holiday season, unpacking
a box from the storage room, when Bobby stood up.

   "She's asleep," he said softly.

   Rhonda followed him to Elizabeth's room, which she and Bobby had
decorated while she was pregnant, and watched as he lay his daughter down.
She felt the tug again.

   He turned, and she went into his arms.

   "I think I need to hire you again," she said into his chest.

   "You don't have to hire me," he said, squeezing her.  "You have special
privileges, whenever you want them."

   "I want them now," she said.

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

   It was almost like reliving a wonderful dream from the past.  She hadn't
forgotten the feel of his hands and lips, but those memories had faded a
bit.  He made them fresh again, as she lay under him, loving being loved
again.

   "Did you plan this?" he asked, thrusting harder.

   "No," she gasped.  "It just came over me."

   "You know what happened last time we did this," he warned.

   Electricity shot through her nerve endings.  She hadn't thought of that
at all!  Now, she couldn't, because he was about to make her cum.

   "Don't stop," she panted.  "Please don't stop."

   He didn't, until she squealed under him, and her body told him that she
was there.  Then he let himself go, and flushed her full of sperm.

   Later, as they lay there cuddling, she had time to think.  This wasn't
the best time in the world to have done this.  She wondered, briefly, if
her body had demanded it, because she was ripe, and it wanted to be filled
with life again.

   "Tomorrow's my birthday," she whispered.

   "I'll have to get you a birthday present," he said softly.

   "This IS my birthday present," she said.  "Part of it."

   "There's more?" he asked.

   "My birthday isn't until tomorrow," she said.  "You have to do this then
too."

   "Oh," he said, smiling.  "I see."

   "And the next day," she added.

   "How about again right now?" he asked.

   "Can you?"

   Twenty minutes later, Bobby grunted, and froze again.

   "Happy birthday!" he gasped, as he gave her her present.

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

   It wasn't until the first week in December that Rhonda knew Bobby hadn't
given her another baby for her birthday.  She was a little ambivalent about
that, actually.  Had she missed her period, it would have been stressful
but, at the same time, the fact that her only lover, to her mind, hadn't
gotten her pregnant again, caused a little melancholy too.

   It was as she looked at the calendar to mark her period down, that she
saw, later in the month, Janet's name printed neatly in a square, with the
notation "B-day" under it.  She had never thanked Janet ...  not officially
...  for forcing Bobby on her.

   She determined to rectify that this year.

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

   "I need to hire you," said the voice in the phone, when Bobby picked it
up.

   He laughed, when he recognized Rhonda's voice.  "You're having another
birthday already?  My goodness, how time flies."

   "It's not my birthday, silly," she said.

   "I told you, you don't have to hire me," he said.

   "I do for this.  It's for somebody else."

   "Really!" said Bobby.  "I'm amazed."

   "I know, it's not like me, but this is special," she said.

   "Who?" he asked.

   "Janet," came the one word answer.

   There was silence on the line for a few seconds.  Then: "Does she know
about this?"

   "No," said Rhonda.  "It's a birthday surprise for her."

   "I'm not so sure that's a good idea, Rhonda," said Bobby.

   "Of course it is," said Rhonda.  "She gave you to me.  I should return
the favor."

   "She's never shown any ...  interest," said Bobby.

   "Not to you," said Rhonda, "but I know her.  She's horny all the time.
She's just too stubborn to do anything about it.  Besides, I've seen the
way she looks at you."

   "I still don't know," said Bobby.

   "I'll make it worth your while," said Rhonda.

   He laughed again.  "Really?"

   "She paid you ten for me, right?"

   "Yes," said Bobby.

   "I'll give you fifteen."

   "For Janet, I should charge you twenty," he joked.

   "Twenty it is!" she said.  "Thank you.  Don't tell her.  I want it to be
a surprise."

   Bobby was going to object again, but the line went dead.

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

   Once again, we have come to a point in the process where we need to
separate things a bit, and end, at least temporarily, the telling of
Bobby's tale.

   There is more to tell, though, so the tale will go on in story number
twelve of this series.  I hope to see you there.
   
