Chapter Fifteen

   In the shower, as they cleaned up in preparation for going to breakfast,
she rubbed her naked front languidly against his.

   "It's too bad you can't build a bike that would let us do it that way
while we ride," she sighed, kissing his chest.

   He chuckled.  "Who says I can't?" That he was now completely comfortable
with his woman in his arms became apparent when he added: "I built the Babe
Bike, didn't I?"

   She looked up at him.  "What?"

   His complete comfort took a brief hiatus as he realized what he'd just
said.

   "Nothing," he tried.

   Her eyes narrowed.  "Daddy seemed awfully interested in the fact that
you brought me here on the Babe Bike.  When I asked him why, he said
nothing, too."

   "That's because it's really nothing," said Bob, hopefully.

   "Don't nothing me," she said.  "What did you mean?"

   "I don't want to tell you," he answered truthfully.  "'Cause if I tell
you, you're going to be really mad at me, and I don't want you to be mad at
me."

   "If you don't tell me, I'm probably going to be mad at you, too," she
informed him.

   "Well...OK," said Bob, finally.  "But it was the Drunken Dwarf's idea,
though.  I want you to understand that up front."

   "Who's the Drunken Dwarf?" she asked.

   "He's a former SEAL, like your dad and me.  He works for me now, in my
shop."

   "Go on."

   "Well...um...we were sitting around one night...you know...just shooting
the shit...and I was talking about building this new bike, and Dwarf kind
of suggested a part of the design that might...um...sort of make it fun."
He swallowed.

   "Fun for who?" asked Jennifer.

   "Um...for the...um...passenger, sort of."

   "Fun for the passenger," she said.

   "Yeah."

   Suddenly her eyes widened.

   "You mean...like I've been having...fun."

   Bob looked away.  "Uh...yeah...I guess so."

   She cocked her head sideways.  "Are you telling me that all those
orgasms were...on purpose?!"

   "No!" he complained.  "Not for you, I mean.  I never thought you'd ever
ride it.  And with all the uproar I kind of forgot about it until after the
first leg of the trip."

   She looked thoughtful.  "That was when you bought me that pillow," she
said.

   "Yeah," he sighed.

   "You knew what was happening to me."

   "Um...I figured it out.  Just not in time."

   "How does it work?" she asked.

   He blinked.  He could have come up with a dozen things he might suspect
she'd say.  Asking how it worked was not one of them.  But she wasn't
screaming at him yet, so he told her.

   "There's a rod that goes from one of the head bolts up to the
clitty...um...I mean this little piece of metal that was cut out of the
original seat.  When a woman sits on the seat, her...um...girly
parts...kind of press against it.  It sort of vibrates."

   "You said the rod was attached to the clitty," she prompted.  "But then
you stopped.  Why?"

   She was paying AWFULLY close attention to all this, he thought dismally.

   "Well, you know guys.  We're all about jokes and all that, so we sort of
gave the design a name." He stopped again.

   "Yes?"

   "It's kind of a rude name," he said.

   "It's kind of a rude idea," she said.  "What did you call it?"

   He sighed.  "It's called the clitty whizzer."

   "Because it...whizzes...a girl's clitty."

   "Yeah...I guess so."

   "And you knew it was whizzing my clitty all that time."

   "That's why I got you the pillow," he whined.  "I didn't mean to whiz
YOUR clitty!"

   "Whose clitty DID you mean to whiz?" she asked, folding her arms across
her chest.

   "I don't know," he moaned.  "Whoever rode the bike with me."

   "So you got some poor girl to get on the..." She stopped and frowned. 
"The Babe Bike...that's why you call it the Babe Bike, isn't it!"

   "Guys really do like to joke around," he said lamely.

   "So you got some poor girl to get on the Babe Bike, and you whizzed her
clitty, and got her all excited, like you got ME all excited.  What then,
Bob?"

   He got frustrated.  He felt like his mother was raking him over the
coals for some juvenile prank.

   "What do you think, Jen?" he snapped.  "The whole idea was to get her
turned on.  YOU know what that feels like, and what it made you want to do.
I TRIED to protect you with that pillow, but OH NO!  YOU decided you didn't
NEED the pillow, because you were having so much fun!"

   She didn't act fazed at all.  "How many girls have you whizzed, Bob?"

   "I don't know!" he said, throwing up his hands.  "I don't keep count!"

   "And you took it to Chicago, to help your friend because...?"

   What did he have to lose?  He was already in such deep shit that a
little more couldn't hurt all that much.

   "You never know when you might get lucky," he growled.  "OK?  I'm
single, OK?"

   "That remains to be seen," she said.

   "What?"

   "Never mind," she said.  "Did Daddy know about all this?"

   "Come on, Jen, don't ask me to rat out my best friend," said Bob.

   "I'm not asking you to rat out your best friend," she said sweetly. 
"I'm asking you to rat out my father."

   Bob had had enough.

   "Look," he said heavily.  "The bike was designed by a bunch of guys who
were drinking beer one night.  It was just a hoot of an idea.  It turned
out to work pretty well, and ALL the guys have used it to take women for a
ride, at one time or another." He blinked.  "Not your dad.  Just the guys
who work for me and helped build the bike." He grimaced.  "Anyway, it was
built a long time ago and it didn't have anything to do with you.  If I'd
known I was going to bring you here, I would have taken another bike up
there.  If you'd have told me you had a car I'd have brought you here in
that, for that matter.  I did NOT put you through all this on purpose."

   "So why didn't you just tell me what it was all about when I started
having all those orgasms?" she asked.  "All you had to do was tell me and I
would probably have used the stupid pillow!"

   "Look at me," he said mournfully.  "I feel like a little boy caught with
his hand in the cookie jar.  I was embarrassed, and I thought YOU would be
embarrassed.  I did the best I could, OK?"

   Her lips formed a straight, hard line.  "Well, it wasn't a cookie jar
this time, Bob, and it SURE wasn't your hand that got in it!"

   Bob's shoulders slumped.  He opened his mouth, but there just wasn't
anything else to say.

   Except, "I'm sorry, Jen.  All I can tell you is that I didn't intend for
any of this to happen."

   Instead of acknowledging his apology, she turned and walked out of the
room, into the parking lot.  When he followed her, he saw her on her hands
and knees, peering up into the depths of the bike, under the seat.  She
reached in with one slim hand and felt around.  Then she stood up and
examined the queen seat.  He realized that a thin outline of the clitty
whizzer was visible through the upholstery, where who knows how many
pussies had pressed the upholstery into the crack between the whizzer and
the seat.  She turned to him.

   "You're a troll, Bob.  You're a disgusting, ugly, warty troll, who preys
on poor innocent girls."

   Bob looked away.

   "It's a good thing I fell in love with you before I knew all this," she
said firmly.  "'Cause if I'd known you were such a troll, I don't think I
could have fallen in love with you." She put a foot on the left foot peg
and mounted the bike, settling into the queen seat.  "Let's go," she
ordered.  "I'm hungry." = Bob, of course, was a little off balance.  It's
understandable.  His concept of Jennifer had been based on watching her
grow up for twelve years, during which time she'd exhibited certain
characteristics.  She'd always been intelligent and interested in life. 
He'd seen her passion before, and her relative lack of fear, say, for
instance, as she began climbing trees.  She'd always been a sweet, loving
girl, with a good heart.

   All these things were still there, and part of Bob's brain knew that. 
But many things had changed in the last week, too, and they had changed
radically.  Jennifer's assertiveness level was one of those things.  In the
past, Jennifer had been known to be basically shy, but stubborn, on
occasion.  In fact, it was Bob who had a special talent for dealing with
her when she was being stubborn.  But, somehow, as her sexual horizons
widened, unreasonable resistance to change or guidance had turned a corner
and become aggressive action in pursuit of her desires.

   Added to that assertiveness was her sudden and unexpected ability to
speak flawlessly.  In effect, Jennifer Brazelton was a completely different
woman who Bob, nonetheless, knew very well.  It would have caught just
about any man off guard.

   As a result, when Jennifer took on the attitude of a woman that Bob
would normally have told to fuck off, he didn't take that approach.  He
didn't tremble or lose his machismo, exactly, but he also didn't react like
he normally would.  Basically, he just waited to see what she'd do.  He
knew, or at least assumed, she was pissed off.  She'd SOUNDED pissed off.
But there were also indications that she wasn't as angry as she sounded. 
And the part of him that recognized the significant changes in her life
also recognized that some time would just have to pass before things shook
out into what would become Jennifer's new "normal" behavior.  Right now,
she was all over the place, which made it difficult to predict what she'd
do next.

   One example of that occurred while they were on their way to get
breakfast.  He was riding along, looking for someplace that looked open for
a morning type meal, when she spoke into his ear.

   "Remind me to tell Mr.  Drunken Dwarf that his idea works perfectly."

   His initial reaction was to grin and reach back to slap her leg in a
gesture of familiar camaraderie.  Then she spoke again.

   "And then remind me not to give you any sex for at least a month."

   The grin died, as his mind puzzled out what that meant.  In one sense,
it was obvious she was still mad.  But she'd put a time restriction on it,
which suggested not all was lost.  He wasn't thinking about sex, though. 
He was just hoping that he could regain her respect.

   During breakfast, she acted completely normal, with the exception that
she talked with the waitress for what seemed like a ridiculous amount of
time about the options for having her eggs prepared.  Bob chalked that up
to her just being elated at being able to communicate without stuttering.

   It was a tumultuous hour.  Out of the blue she thanked him for taking
time off from work to help her get to her parents.  Later she kicked his
shin under the table and said, with a perfectly straight face,
"Oops...sorry." Then she talked about how much better her parents were
already and, a few minutes later, kicked him again.  He got the same
insincere "Oops...sorry," again.

   On impulse, he moved his feet, almost straddling the chair by bending
his knees and resting his feet on the toes of his boots.  Ten minutes later
she kicked again, but only hit the chair leg.  He almost laughed when she
bent over to look under the table, but had his eyes on his plate when she
looked back up.

   The weirdness factor stayed high for a while longer.

   On the way to the hospital, he felt her grip on his waist tighten
slightly, and would have sworn she'd just had an orgasm.  He didn't say
anything, and neither did she.

   When they got to the hospital, she breezed in and went to straight to
her mother, ignoring her father.  She brought a chair up next to the bed
and sat, holding her mother's hand.  Susan's mending pelvis still required
that she be flat on her back, but with a pillow under her head she could
look at a visitor.  They talked softly while Bob tried to figure out what
to say to Don.  Their conversation was a little strained.

   "How much longer are you going to stay?" Don asked at one point.

   "I have no idea," said Bob, truthfully.  He'd put himself at Jennifer's
disposal, but hadn't planned anything out.  It was sort of an open ended
mission, and so far he'd been flying by the seat of his pants.  "What's the
latest on when you guys will be able to move around?"

   "They want me for three weeks," said Don.  "Susan will probably have to
be here longer, but we don't know how much longer.  They say they're going
to start physical therapy with her next week, but we don't know what that
means, exactly."

   "Hmmm," said Bob.  "I guess it depends on what Jennifer wants."

   "You can't stay here the whole time," said Don.  "It would cost a
fortune."

   "Yeah," said Bob.  "I don't know what we'll do.  We haven't exactly
talked about it."

   "What HAVE you talked about?" asked Don.  His face twisted.  "Never
mind, I don't want to know."

   "Come on, Don," sighed Bob.  "I told you I was sorry."

   "Now Susan's harping at me," whispered Don.  "She says I should thank
you.  Can you believe that?"

   "Women," said Bob softly.  "Who understands them?"

   "Turn on the TV, honey," said Susan from the next bed.  "And turn it up
please."

   "What now?" Don asked.  His only answer was Jennifer standing up and
whisking the curtain around her mother's bed again.

   Don sighed and felt around for the remote.  Bob saw it hanging off the
bed by its thick cord, reached for it, and handed it to Don, who punched a
button.  The TV came on and the two men were greeted by the smiling faces
of Regis and Kelly.  Both groaned.  Don surfed to the Discovery channel. 
Neither man seemed to feel like talking, probably because there was some
somewhat frenzied whispering going on inside the curtain, and both were
curious about what was being said.

   Maybe ten minutes later, Jennifer emerged from the curtained cocoon.

   "Mom wants to talk to you, Bob," she said.  Her face was passive, but
looked a little strained.

   Bob got up and went to Susan's side of the room, passing Jennifer as she
basically traded places with him.  Susan looked pale, but smiled and
motioned him to the far side of the bed, crooking her finger to get his
face close to hers.  She was obviously going to whisper.

   "You're going to need to be patient with her," she said softly.

   "Morning, Daddy!  How are you feeling?" came the bright, chipper voice
of Jennifer through the curtain.

   "She loves you, Bob," said Susan, ignoring her daughter's voice.

   "I feel pretty good," said Don.

   "And I know you love her, too, Bob...don't you?"

   Bob nodded, just as Jennifer spoke again, in a loud, clear voice.

   "That's good, Daddy.  I feel really good, too.  I got my clitty whizzed
REALLY nice on the way over here!"

   Susan's eyes widened as Bob's mouth dropped open.  Susan reached for his
hand and she gripped it.

   "Please be patient with her," she whispered.  "I've known you a long
time and I trust you.  This is all so new to her and she doesn't understand
yet."

   "What?!" came Don's confused voice.

   "You know, Daddy!" said Jennifer brightly.  "We got here on the Babe
Bike...and I got my clitty whizzed on the way."

   Susan sighed.  "You'd better get her out of here now," she said.

   Bob stood up.

   "Jennifer!" gasped Don.

   "Oh come on, Daddy," said Jennifer, less cheer in her voice.  "I know
you know all about the Babe Bike.  After all, Uncle Bob IS your best
friend."

   Bob leaned back down and kissed Susan on the cheek.

   She waved at the curtain and he pulled it back on his way to get
Jennifer.

   "Jennifer...honey..." Don croaked.

   "It's OK, Daddy," said Jennifer, standing there with her hands on her
hips.  "It would have been nice to know, but don't feel bad.  BOB DIDN'T
TELL ME ABOUT IT EITHER!"

   "JENNIFER ELAINE!" barked Susan.  "Do NOT speak to your father that
way!"

   Jennifer shot a defiant look at her mother.

   "Do I have to tell Bob to spank your bare butt again?" snapped Susan.

   "What?" Don's voice sounded strained.

   "We're leaving," said Bob to Jennifer.

   "What if I don't feel like leaving?" she said, an obvious pout in her
voice.

   "Bare butt?" Don's voice sounded hollow.

   "Then I'll put you over my shoulder and take you out of here kicking and
screaming," said Bob.  "And security will get involved, and we'll be
banned, and I'll have to take you back home where you can throw a tantrum
all by yourself, whenever you feel like it."

   "That's not exactly what I had in mind, Bob," said Susan.

   "I know," said Bob, still staring at Jennifer.  "But I have to go with
whatever tactics I think will get the job done." He took a step closer to
Jennifer.  "Get your jacket.  We're leaving until you calm down."

   Thankfully, she didn't get stubborn on him.  She snatched up her jacket
and stomped out of the room.

   "See you later," said Bob, waving to the people in the room.  As he left
he could hear Don's plaintive voice, still trying to get answers to his
questions.

   "He spanked her?  When did he spank her?  And why was her butt bare when
he did it?" 
