THE USUAL WARNINGS:
This is a work of fiction by a twisted mind. If you are offended by graphic descriptions of natural and/or unnatural sexual acts, if you are underage, or if this type of material is illegal where you are, don't read any further.
This is a fantasy. You will have to loosen your clench on reality a little when you read it. This is a in which physical acts and human responses are not limited to, nor necessarily based in, reality. Some acts and responses in this may be physically impossible and/or physiologically improbable.
Also, as is the case with most of the in this newsgroup, all the women in this are beautiful - gorgeous, even. Gravity has not caused to droop nor have wrinkles creased unblemished faces. The men (the leading men, at least) are hung like bulls. They can get it up and keep it up often and at will. In this special little fantasyland, there are no STDs, morals, or unwanted pregnancies. Guilt is a four- letter word. Most important of all, neither strength of character, courage of convictions, nor moral belief stand a chance against any erotic stimulus. This can be as benign as an accidental glimpse of a bared ankle or as stimulating as a whipping on the genitals.
For those of you who didn't understand the preceding statements, GO AWAY!
This is intended for the salacious entertainment of consenting adults. Do not try to do any of the things described in this story. You could injure yourself or your partner, be arrested, or shot by her father....
If you are under 18 years of age, GO AWAY! This will burn your eyeballs and fry your brain.
If material of a strong sexual nature is prohibited where you are, GO AWAY!
By continuing, the reader accepts all responsibility for any disgust, revulsion, jail sentences, or pleasure that results from reading this story. If you don't, GO AWAY!
You have been warned!
If you enjoy this and feel the urge to post it on a <free> site, at least give me (NightShade) credit for it.
So, stick your tongue firmly in your cheek and enjoy the story!....:)
NightShade
Sandcastles
by NightShade Chapter 1
It had been a really rough day. The crying children and screaming hadn't been the worst of it. You get that at little league games and parent/teacher conferences all the time. What had made this particular day so rough was the silence. It was the kind of catatonic listlessness that could suck the love right out of you as you helplessly watched a teeter on the brink between a life-long series of nightmares and fears or of taking the beginning steps in the long process of recovery. That is, if you can call what a woman's life becomes after being on the receiving end of a brutal sexual assault a 'recovery.' I had looked helplessly into vacant eyes that just yesterday had been full of sparkle and hope and more than a touch of mischief, now dulled without a glimmer of life or vitality.
I lay sleepless in bed with Sally, my girlfriend of about 18 months after that seemingly endless night at the hospital, of filling out medical forms, insurance forms, police forms, and so on. Everybody wanted details. I shuddered to think of all the closet perverts who would have access to the lurid details of the gruesome incident. I wondered which of those innocent records would turn up later to continue to ruin her life. Having exhausted all the I could count, I masochistically reviewed the events of the past 12 or so hours as I tried to fall asleep.
***
Janey had tried to slip into the house unnoticed, home early from her date. She was my girlfriend's and had been her 15th birthday. Sally had reluctantly agreed to let her 'baby' go on her first real date, as her rule had always been no 'couple' dates until Janey was 16 years old. This time there would be no other couple, no chaperones. Just the two kids. There would be others at the party, and then, well, whatever. Sally should have listened to her fears. The date had been a disaster.
We were waiting up for Janey to get home. We, Sally, actually, had a surprise birthday gift to give her, along with a cake and a candle. I benefited from this special occasion as well, as I got to spend the night with Sally, an unusual liberty for a weekday. Even after 18 months of serious dating, Sally still held me at arm's length and I normally only saw Janey when our weekend schedules collided at the house. Janey was an active teenager in her first year of High School, popular, pretty, and vivacious. It seemed every second of her life was a flurry of activity, so she was gone much of the time.
I sometimes thought that if it weren't for Sally's strong sexual needs, and her own recognition of them, she wouldn't have let anyone - much less me - into her life at all. Don't get me wrong. She was loving, sensual, caring, and, honestly, the best lover I could ever want. Certainly, she was by far the best woman I had ever had the pleasure of loving. Nothing was out of bounds, sexually at least, and things were heading towards a more permanent arrangement. At least, I sincerely hoped so.
But there was always a wall that kept me from getting too close or too comfortable, a barrier I couldn't get through, over or around. Sally, although she admitted it was there, simply wouldn't discuss it. The two weeks of gentle, but firm celibacy that were sure to follow each time I brought it up, with the threat of a permanently celibate status if I ever brought it up again, let me know in no uncertain terms that the matter was off limits. I was left with the assumption that someone, probably a man, had her terribly. I was pretty sure I was in the clear, but I was definitely paying the price for the bastard's deed.
Hearing the front door open and quietly close, and the 'beep beep' of the alarm being set, we sneaked down the hall bearing our gifts, cake and a lighted candle. We sprang into the teenager's darkened bedroom with shouts of "Surprise!" The strained melody of an off-key duet of "Happy Birthday to You" died out as we both saw her at the same instant. Janey was curled in a tiny ball on the floor at the foot of her bed.
I caught the wrapped gift, the cake and the candle that were tossed in my general direction as Sally moved instinctively to hold her daughter. Janey was covered in blood, mostly from the stomach down, the sticky streaks thicker on the inside of her legs. The bodice of her pretty new party dress was missing a couple of buttons, and the one sleeve I could see was torn. Her birthday dress was ruined.
I was already headed down the hall for the telephone when I heard Sally's crisp "Call 9-1-1." I had always admired her for that. Unlike most women I had known, she didn't fall apart in a crisis. She stayed calm, took charge, assessed the situation, made the hard decisions and never doubted them. Even afterwards, she wouldn't doubt the decisions she had made during a crisis. I knew, and more importantly, Janey knew, that Sally would take care of Janey now.
Several things went through my head as to what type of accident could have caused her injuries. Call me innocent, ignorant or na‹ve, but a traumatic rape was not even on my list of possibilities. It just didn't enter my mind. It is not something I would do under any circumstances, and I guess I just expected other civilized to behave in a similar manner towards women. Especially the women I loved.
Sally must have known how I would react to the news she was about to break, as she waited to tell me until we were alone in one of those rooms they have at hospitals with no windows and only one door. She had found me sitting in those horribly uncomfortable chairs designed to increase patient traffic at chiropractic offices. She stood with her back to the only exit, blocking me in the room. I looked up at her, hoping she was going to rescue me from the mindless fare of cable network news and 5 year magazines. I had listened through three or four repetitions of the tops news stories of the day. Today's hot news was the annual governor's congress in Washington, D.C. and their concern over the recent sharp rise in missing teenagers, mostly girls, apparently runaways.
I had been brutally stunned as Sally quietly informed me that the police were sending over a specialist in sexual assaults to talk with Janey and us about the attack. Janey had been raped. She told me later that my reaction had severely frightened her. She grudgingly admitted that she had underestimated the depth and strength of my feelings. She knew I cared about Janey, and that I would be upset. She was unprepared for my reaction. I was livid, horrified. It was extremely personal. Even more, I was in a murderous rage I couldn't and didn't want to shake off.
I now understood justifiable homicide. If I am ever honored to be selected for a jury trial of a parent who killed or maimed the person who had injured their child, I will vote not to convict, but to award a Medal of Honor to that parent.
Funny thing, I didn't see when I had heard what had happened to Janey. I saw nothing. I felt nothing. It was simply as if a switch had been flipped and the whole world had just stopped existing. My only thought was to avenge that innocent little girl's pain. It was the first time Sally had seen me cry, but I don't remember. I'll take her word for it.
Sally calmly continued to say that the hospital staff was surprised that most of the blood on Janey had not been her own, but apparently the attacker's. Janey had a few ugly bruises, and had some bleeding from abrasions in and around her vaginal area. She had been brutally penetrated, their words, but there was no semen present. Both the OB/GYN and the emergency physician thought she would heal in time. Physically, anyway.
Seeing my blank, uncomprehending stare and my tight grip on the arms of the chair, she told me what she had been able to put together of the events that had transpired on her daughter's birthday.
Janey's date, Steven, was a big hotshot football player a couple of years than Janey. They had met because he was a star player and she was a cheerleader. As a freshman, she was the youngest on the squad by two years. She was smart, talented and friendly to everyone. From the first day of school, Janey had been besieged with requests for dates, which she had graciously turned down. She knew her Mom's rule.
Although she had to refuse to go on the dates, Janey had that gracious ability to make each of her suitors feel glad just to know her. She somehow sensed the emotional trauma a rejection could cause a teenage male ego and she let them know that she was the one who was privileged to have been asked out. The she turned down liked her more after than before. She was developing quite a following for a freshman. She was levelheaded about the attention; not what you would call boy-crazy, although there were some that made her heart beat a just little faster when they called the house. However, all her other girlfriends were seriously infected with that peculiar teenage disease, and Janey sort of went along.
Peer pressure is a terrible force in a teen's life, and, because of her status as a cheerleader, Janey was 'expected' to date, among other things, as we were to discover shortly. When Steven asked her out for a special birthday party in her honor, she felt not only honored, but also somewhat obligated to ask her for permission to go. She and her had a long-standing agreement that Janey would not date 'solo' until she was 16, but her persistence wore down Sally's resistance. She was allowed to go this one time, with the explicit understanding that this was an exception, a one time only deal.
The date had started innocently. It was a party, supposedly in her honor at the head cheerleader's home, whose were conveniently 'out.' The punch, later discovered to be spiked, had flowed freely. It was only because of Janey's nervousness that she had only had one glass. Steven had quite a few, as had the rest of the revelers.
Because it was a school night, curfew for Janey was 11:00 p.m. and they left the party about 9:00. Steven had driven to a popular make-out spot, deserted because it was a weekday, and had tried to kiss her. At first she was flattered, thrilled that the popular she admired was paying her all this attention. However, when he made a rough grab at her breasts, bruising the tender flesh and drunkenly tearing her sleeve, she told him to stop and that she wanted to go home. Now. Janey was frightened, but not stupid, and several things about the evening just didn't add up. Suddenly realizing the whole evening had been a sham to get her alone with this boy-turned-animal added to the guilt she felt afterward.
Surprisingly, the had backed off right away, started the car and left the make-out area. She relaxed just a bit, thinking she may have been wrong about him and the odd events at the party. She always thought the best about people and she gave him the benefit of the doubt. The damage to her dress was minimal and no one would see her breasts. She was already beginning to put this evening behind her.
Janey and her live out in the country a ways, close enough to be convenient, far enough away to be left alone by all but the most determined salesmen. On the road to the house, just before the turnoff into the long driveway, there is a dark of road that parallels the river. All along this there are private, isolated spots where you can pull just a few feet off the road, and your car is all but from passersby. Steven pulled into one of those suddenly, and turned to his surprised passenger.
He hadn't even waited for her to resist before he slapped her several times across the face. Whether the hard blows stunned her or knocked her out wasn't clear. The next thing she remembered, she was flat on her back on the ground next to the car with her party dress bunched up under her armpits. Her bra had been pulled down around her waist, the straps ripped off. The force of pulling it down had dug the straps deeply into her shoulders before they snapped, bruising the tender skin.
She felt pain. Steven was mauling and biting her tits, causing terrible pains to shoot from the sensitive organs. There was a particularly sharp rock poking her in her left shoulder blade and another one right in the small of her back. With his additional 240 pounds pressing down on top of her, the rocks were really digging in.
The most intense pain came from between her legs. With no preliminaries, Steven had ripped her down her legs and shoved his prick into her virgin pussy. The damage done was not due to his size. He had only been 3, maybe 4 inches long when erect and not real thick - a true 'pencil dick.' His penis size didn't match his ego and it may have contributed to his frustrations with his life. Never having learned to deal with his own inadequacies, he covered them by bullying people and forcing himself on others.
The damage had been due to Janey being tight and dry. His angle had been off, as well as his aim, plus he had used excessive force when he finally did manage to find the virgin mouth of her vagina. The OB/GYN estimated he must have made 10-15 forceful stabs before finding the hole and gaining entrance, as Janey was bruised all over, including the area around her anus. Apparently, the boy's frustrations had increased to a frantic level, and when he found an opening or anything closely resembling one, he rammed his prick in with all of his considerable strength. I shudder to think what would have happened to her had she been conscious and moving about.
Sally had talked with Janey about sex, and boys, and the difference between love and sex. She had also included talks about rape, so Janey figured out pretty quick what was going on. Like her mother, she kept her wits about her, even in this terrifying situation.
In spite of the pain she was in, she first took stock of her surroundings. Turning her head to the side, she could see the open door of the car, the dome light casting a dim illumination on the crime scene. She could see her torn hanging like a trophy on the rear view mirror, and, strangely, his slacks and shorts folded neatly on the car seat.
A desperate plan formed in her mind. Again, like her mother, she made a decision and implemented the plan. She began 'ooohhhing' and 'aaaaahhing' in his ear. Her hips, painful though it was for her, thrust up to meet his. Although she had never fucked before, she responded with the natural rhythms of a fertile female in heat. The blood oozing from the tears in her lubricated her brutal mating with the rapist somewhat, convincing him she was responding to his efforts.
When he saw what she was doing, he had laughed at her, thinking she was responding to his rape like the slut he thought all women were. He said as much, calling her a slut, a whore and a bitch. His callous words would hurt her more and for a longer time than the injuries he was inflicting, but right then they steeled her resolve to go through with her plan.
With much panting and moaning, Janey convinced him to go at her from behind. Again, it wasn't clear if she was offering him her asshole to in so she wouldn't get pregnant, or simply to do it 'doggie style.' It wasn't important. She just knew she needed him to get off her and let her get up for a second.
He let her stand up and she wasted no time putting her plan into action. Sally had dragged me to the occasional Friday night high school ball game where I had seen Janey doing the energetic cheerleading routines, jumping around excitedly in her short skirt and tight sweater. I had seen how high she could kick, practically doing the splits standing up, her foot ending well above her head. Most underestimate just how much energy goes into cheerleading, how toned and muscled those women have to be to perform at that level for two to three hours straight. I had seen just a few of the hours of practice Janey and the others put in when I had spent the occasional weekend at Sally's. Steven had not.
As soon as Janey got up, she stepped up to him, making it look as if she wanted to kiss him on the cheek before getting down on her hands and knees. She leaned her full firm into him during the kiss, pushing him off balance a bit. Instinctively, he steadied himself against this unexpected, but lovely pressure. His legs automatically spread to about shoulder width apart to keep his balance. That was the opening she needed. Like most dealing with an angry woman, Steven never knew what hit him.
Janey turned as if to face away from him, appearing to be getting down into position to continue fucking. Then suddenly, she wheeled and with all the force in her long, tight legs and with all the murderous anger in her heart, she brought her foot up into his groin. Straight legged. Her aim was dead on, just slightly to the right of center. He must have lifted several inches off the ground.
Janey said there was no sound. He did not cry out. The only sounds in the still night air, other than his escaping breath, was the squish of a mashing testicle and the soft pop of a ruptured penis. He dropped like a stone where he stood.
Janey then did something that amazed every adult, other than Steven's parents, who heard of it. Rather than running away, leaving him there to bleed to death, she got his cell phone and dialed 9-1-1. On the playback of the tape, you could hear Janey, who didn't identify herself, calmly tell the operator exactly where the injured person was and the extent of his injuries. After the call she rolled up his slacks and shorts as a pillow for his head, walked a short distance away to where she could see but not be seen, waited until she saw the ambulance arrive, then finished walking the short distance home.
I continued to stare wordlessly at Sally as her came to a close. I had slowly come to my senses somewhere in the middle when she had said Janey would be OK physically. The physical injuries to the mitigated some of my murderous rage towards him. I no longer wanted to kill him, but I seriously resented his one surviving testicle. Even one ball was too much for that raping bastard. The thought flickered through my mind about how much it would take to bribe the surgeon to make a tiny slip with the scalpel and finish the job. In talking with the surgeon later, a woman with a teenaged of her own, she admitted she was sorry she had not known the details of his 'accident' prior to her repair work on him in the OR. She had been told it was an auto accident. She coldly admitted she would have done it for nothing. Off the record, of course.
As I watched Sally finish telling me the events of the night, I became aware of a dangerous level of emotional tension inside her, bordering on exhaustion. Mentally chastising myself for my incredible thoughtlessness and selfishness, I began to consider how she had to be feeling. She was ready to apart with fear and anger, but felt she had to be strong and hold together for Janey. She couldn't let go until Janey was out of danger, or until she could hand off responsibility to someone else. I felt the most important thing I could do for both of them was to focus on Sally and try to ease her pain and anguish. I held my arms open to her, inviting her into them.
Sally looked up at me, and I realized then that she had not looked me in the eye throughout the whole recitation. As I looked into those beautiful blue eyes, I saw her pain and anger, which I expected to see. I also saw hate. It was a bitter, acrid hate inclusive of all males, including me. It took a supreme effort, but I didn't flinch when I realized her state of mind nor did I take back the open-armed invitation of a hug. I was well aware I had just invited a madwoman bent on killing or seriously hurting something or someone to come stand next to my unprotected body.
Sally didn't move for a long moment, leaving us frozen in that estranged tableau. Then, with a small step, she moved in my direction. Hoping she wouldn't notice, I took a small step towards her, closing my legs in the process and turning my hips slightly to the side. I wasn't sure how far that 'like mother, like daughter' thing went. It wouldn't protect my privates against a hard driving knee, but it was better than singing soprano. Permanently.
Continuing to glare hatefully into my eyes, she small- stepped into my arms, ending with her face upturned. It was not a face I particularly wanted to kiss at that moment, but it was definitely one that needed it. As I lowered my defenseless face towards that venomous expression, I mentally pictured my lips being shredded by those fine sharp white teeth that had teasingly tormented me so many times during sex play. Call me a fool, but I ignored warning signs that would have made a sane make out a Last Will and Testament. I skated out onto the thin ice with abandon. Without hesitation. Hell, I was in love with the woman.
Miraculously, I felt no immediate pain. I thought that maybe my senses were dulled by the lateness of the hour and the uncomfortable hospital chairs. I was resigned to being the punching bag for her to vent her anger, and I knew she was capable of doing almost anything in her current frame of mind. Her quivering body was as tense as a bowstring as my arms slowly enfolded her to hold her gently, but firmly against my racing heart. It felt as if I was holding an atomic bomb, and I was probably about as safe. I put my body at her disposal for her to vent her anger on as she saw fit.
My lips lightly brushed her dry ones. That kiss was not in the least bit sexual. Too much fear, pain and sorrow were around us right now. I was simply making myself a sacrificial offering on the altar of her vengeance. Believe me, it was a ritual of trust. Hopefully, it would be a bloodless ritual.
Warm, wet, salty. I tasted it tentatively. Not blood. Only slightly relieved, I opened my tightly clenched eyes, apparently having squeezed them shut in anticipation and preparation of bearing much pain. Her eyes were closed, too. And leaking. Her tears began as a trickle, but soon flooded her face and my chest. No sobs, no hysteria. Just tears. My tears mingled with hers.
I don't know how long we stood like that, but the police officer in charge of the investigation finally found us to let us know they had been able to corroborate Janey's account of the evening's events. Startled, we asked why they would need to be corroborated. He filled us in on the latest sick twist in the story.
Steven's parents, his a big-shot lawyer, his mother high on the social ladder and forever clawing her way higher, had filed 'Assault and Battery' charges against Janey, even before they knew the details of what had happened. They were insistent upon filing them and wanted Janey arrested and held in the juvenile section county jail. The police were helpless to do otherwise and were going to arrest her until they found Janey's blood at the scene, right where she said the rape had happened. With that, and some other things, that supported her story, the cops held off.
Tests showed that Steven's blood alcohol level was over the legal limit for an adult, way over for an underage driver. Testimony from witnesses at the faux-party unknowingly supported Janey. The partygoers made their damaging statements thinking Steven had 'scored' with her. The torn on the mirror were identified by them as blue before anyone at the party should have known. Actually, the partygoers had made snide remarks about Janey 'crying rape' even before our 911 call had been made. Alcohol and lies don't mix.
His had weakened under the weight of the evidence, but the clincher was when the surgeon sewing him up pulled a rather large chunk of foreign tissue out of his hole. Tissue typing proved it was a piece of her cherry. The force with which he had rammed into her had shoved a torn fragment of her hymen way up inside of his urethra. As he hadn't ejaculated, it was still there.
There was no way it wasn't rape. There was no way it wasn't self-defense on her part. There was no way their spoiled little wasn't going to jail, with or without Janey's testimony. The pretty-faced 18-year-old pencil-dick was going to make someone a nice 'girlfriend' at the State Penitentiary. The rookie officer, apparently having experienced the in court on previous cases, seemed smugly pleased with that part of the outcome.
The ride home in the wee hours was quiet. Sally bundled Janey into the house, a hot bath and bed, seemingly in one continuous motion. She never left Janey alone but didn't crowd her. It wasn't until Janey was soundly asleep that Sally crawled into bed beside me.
Like I said, it had been a rough day.
Chapter 2
If I thought the night before had been rough, the next couple of days made what happened then almost seem like a vacation. Almost. Sally was so preoccupied with Janey she could think of nothing else. Janey, for her part, apparently couldn't think at all. She wouldn't react, wouldn't talk, and wouldn't move. She just lay there. Sally was able to clean her gently every day, although only behind a locked door, and gently force a few bites of food down her, but other than that, nothing.
I was beginning to be very afraid for Sally. Hell, I was afraid for both of them. I was able, after a couple of days, to spell Sally on her vigil beside Janey's bed, but only after I promised to sit out of Janey's direct line of sight. Sally was adamant about that. If Janey woke up, I was to get Sally immediately and not let Janey see me.
I didn't fully understand it, but apparently it was possible for Janey to transfer her hate for Steven and what he had done to her to all things male, including me. It me terribly. Not as much as she was hurting, obviously, but I couldn't understand how I, who cared for her and loved her, could be lumped in with all the rest.
The first night that I sat in for Sally passed uneventfully. Janey didn't stir once. The doctor had been there earlier in the day, along with a rape counselor, and both Janey and Sally were resting comfortably with the aid of mild sedatives. It was a long night, and, I am not ashamed to admit, I took advantage of the solitude and darkness as I shed more than a few tears over the shattered girl.
The next day I asked the counselor if it would be OK to talk to Janey. Since she wasn't responding very much, and would be sedated anyway, would it help or hurt? The harried lady shrugged and said it probably couldn't hurt. As long as she didn't react violently to the sound of my voice, it might actually help. I thought that an odd statement, but I decided to try to talk to Janey during the night.
That night I sat by her bed, a little closer than the night before. I started speaking very softly, hoping not to startle her, which I didn't. I talked to her about lots of things. I tried to go through every memory I had of her, every time we had together. I told her what she was wearing, who she had been with and what was said. I told her of the pride and admiration I felt when I watched her perform at her games. I recounted each and every game and competition where I had seen her. Then I started going through the meals we had shared. And so on. I was amazed at all the details I could recall about this I had watched grow into a woman.
Towards morning, after about seven to eight hours of speaking quietly to her, I sensed a change in her. At first I thought she had moved and was about to go get her Mom, but then I noticed she was still asleep. She seemed to be breathing easier, but how I would I know that? I didn't analyze it a lot, but somehow, I instinctively knew that Janey was going to be OK. It was like I could sense her feelings or her aura or some shit. Weird, I know.
It was during this time of slow recovery that all Hell broke loose. The news of Janey's incident made the local, state, and eventually the national news. It hit the national news wires after the half-assed local police investigation accidentally found that this had been an organized plot involving several other students. Due to the political connections of some of the alleged participant's parents, the local police panicked and the FBI was called in. They used the excuse that this had been an attempted kidnapping.
What the local police had uncovered was that it had been a contest for money. The prize was several thousands of dollars, but with the money these kids had, that was secondary. Winning, at any price, was number one. Apparently, all the male athletes - the jocks - put $100 a piece into a pot at the beginning of each school year. It was not an option. No one was forced to participate in the actual contest, but they didn't stay healthy very long if they didn't contribute. The first jock to fuck all twelve of that year's cheerleaders won the pot.
Janey, being a freshman, was the only conquest left for two of the guys, one of whom was Steven. The other had been making considerable headway with Janey at school, actually going through the motions of courting and wooing her. I had heard his name mentioned in reverent tones at the dinner table, and a telephone call from him was a reason for excited tittering between the and daughter. His apparent progress with the beautiful had infuriated Steven, prompting him to set up the birthday party scam for Janey.
When pressed by the professionals at the FBI, Steven cracked like a true wuss, and gave up all the names of the organizers and the participants. He even had a list on his computer complete with names, dates and if the event had been 'voluntary' or 'involuntary'. There were a remarkable number of involuntary notations, meaning 'rapes', and that had caused an even greater uproar, as most had never been reported. The few that had been reported to the local police or school counselors had been dismissed as post-coital regrets.
But it was not just the involved. There was jealousy on the part of some of the that prompted their participation, too. Steven implicated three of the cheerleaders for setting up the party, providing the booze, and verifying what color Janey had been wearing that night. The girl's were considered to be proof in the case of an involuntary score, and they had been pretty sure Janey was not going to participate voluntarily. So knowing what color or pattern of she was wearing was key to verifying the 'trophy' was from the victim. One cheerleader had walked into the guest bathroom at the party when Janey was peeing, her down around her ankles. Janey was sure the door had been locked, but, as the had OOP'sed her way back out of the bathroom, she had just guessed the lock was broken and had let it pass.
There were arrests and expulsions, some permanent. They involved most of the popular kids, the 'in' crowd. The 'untouchables' had been touched. Hard. Most of them blamed Janey, and they were bitter. Most of them wouldn't graduate, at least, from this High School.
Then, to make a bad situation a catastrophe, someone, probably some low-level employee from the hospital, had leaked Steven's hospital chart to a sleazy tabloid. There wasn't a male in America who didn't wince just a little when his injuries were described in graphic detail. The tabloid shouted it out in full color, with charts and graphs showing the force of impact required to do what had been done to his popped testicle and ruptured penis by her solid kick to his groin. He got a lot of sympathy from that report, as if his injuries somehow made the two of them even. A surprising number of females were sympathetic to him as well.
As more news leaked and broke over the weekend, it grew rapidly into a media spectacle. Janey had withdrawn into herself and didn't know any of this was going on. But Sally knew and I knew. Sally had to take care of Janey and couldn't deal with this. Me? I got mad, then I started kicking ass and taking names. Literally.
We disconnected all the phones but the one in the back guestroom after several threats had been made on Janey's life, not to mention the countless obscene phone calls. The list of the names we collected from the Caller ID on that phone included some very interesting ones. The calls were all recorded on a system similar to the 9-1-1 calls. The FBI was doing voiceprints and matching some surprising names to the voices. Heads were going to roll, some from very high places.
Considering several of the worst calls originated from the telephones of those whose job it was to 'protect and serve' us all, it was a good thing the house was set well back from the road, and had a well-defined perimeter fence around the large property. The governor, a personal friend of mine, brought in the National Guard to 'help' the local police keep an eye on the property after I shared some of the selected names on my Caller ID list with him. The new, heavily armed troops added to the complicated chain-of-command and jurisdictional issues, not to mention the feeding frenzy of the so-called news media, but the phone calls did quiet down a bit.
Then some asshole leaked Janey's name and address to the press along with a home showing her doing one of her trademark kicks. Overnight, she became known as "The high-kicking cheerleader" in the media. Her picture and that clip was played prominently at the top, bottom and in the middle of every broadcast hour, usually accompanied by the music from "The Nutcracker Suite." The heartless jackals were at our gates within minutes of the leak. News, tabloids, paparazzi, women's rights groups, protesters, spectators, helicopters, bullhorns, and, believe it or not, a burning cross. The death-threats on the telephone had been easier to deal with.
Sally came apart. I went ballistic. Not one to sit idly by and watch this thing destroy these two women's lives, I made several calls to some very high-priced lawyers in New York, friends of my father's from his law practice. Every, and I mean every, last fucking one of the registered media in the entire nation received a registered letter from that law firm. The letter explained exactly what would happen and how much it would cost them personally and corporately if Janey's name, likeness, or personal information were broadcast, printed, or hinted after their receipt of that registered letter, even if it was by mistake or oversight.
The letter explained this was not a matter of censorship and that they were free to report on the events of this case, the same as any other similar case. The was, however, a minor with legal rights to anonymity. She had committed no crime, was not charged with one, would not be charged with one, and wished simply to be left alone. To help them remember, the letter also mentioned several similar cases that had not made headlines, but about which the entire media industry was aware, where this particular law firm had won huge awards from overly aggressive 'news' organizations.
You could tell almost to the minute when the letters hit the corporate offices of the major news media and their legal departments confirmed the essential elements of the legal situation. The smarter legal probably pointed out that because of the warning letter, any infraction would likely result in an award far surpassing the previous multimillion dollar amounts. Suddenly, everybody wanted to be somewhere else, in a hurry. Watching their remote broadcast vehicles scramble to leave the front gates reminded me of the Keystone Kops movies.
There were reports of several stations turning off their signals that day in the middle of a broadcast story, leaving several minutes of "Technical Difficulty" screens. Of course, a couple of hard-liners didn't listen, including one sensationalistic talk show host, and surprisingly, one major network. They all went bankrupt from the lawsuits, paying for the legal expenses, and it didn't help when the FCC immediately rescinded their broadcast licenses, effectively stopping any further repetition of Janey's name in the news. The other news agencies were very circumspect after that. It's nice to have a who just happens to be a Federal Judge in Washington, D.C.
I think how I handled that media mess managed to impress Sally, who saw me from a whole new perspective. Sharing your Rolodex is not something you normally do when dating, even after 18 months. The restored calm around the house and city allowed her to gather her wits back together, and she was able to re-focus on helping her get well.
I continued to sit with Janey at night. After the first three nights things had gotten pretty routine. I sat, I talked, and she slept. The next night looked to be going pretty much the same, except I was getting tired. The emotional drain was taking its toll on all of us, even me. The evening started out with me reminiscing. I covered the same topics over and over every night. I figured, what the Hell, she's asleep anyway.
I don't remember dozing off, but I awoke with a start and saw Janey lying there, staring at me. Worse, I was touching her. More accurately, she was holding onto my finger with her hand. I had been having vivid dreams, of happy times, but always under a cloud or shadow.
"Oh, you're awake. I'll go get your Mom."
In response, I got a quick shake of her head and a tightened grasp on my finger. She apparently didn't want me to go. I wracked my groggy brain for what to do.
"OK. Do you need anything like a drink of water or something to eat?"
She dismissed the idea with another quick head shake.
"I'm sorry to wake you up. Was I snoring?" I tried a feeble laugh, but Janey just kept looking at me. Now that I looked closer, I noticed she had a wary look on her face. Not knowing what else to do, I just sat quietly with her. It was still early; Sally wouldn't be awake for hours.
"I thought you were mad at me, but you're not, are you." It was a statement.
Those were her first words to me in nearly a week. I nearly fell out of the chair. "Why would I be mad at you?"
"I dunno. But you were mad, really mad, at someone, weren't you?"
I thought back on the idiots that had surrounded the house and hounded Sally and me. Janey had been out of it during that time. How could she have known?
"Some people were bothering us a little. They're gone now," I responded.
A while later, "Do you really like that blue outfit I wore to school last week? I think it makes me look old."
Now I was really confused. In all my ramblings to her the past four nights I had avoided any reference to her appearance, or being sexy, or her body. That was on the advice of the rape counselor. She mentioned that rape victims take a tremendous blow to their self-esteem and that I shouldn't talk about her appearance or anything to do with her body.
However, I had been dreaming of her in that blue outfit just before I woke up. It was her dark blue blazer with a matching pleated skirt that made her look like a smart professional businesswoman. I had had a dream of her standing in front of a crowd, giving a speech or lecture. What I remember was feeling proud of her and everything she had accomplished. I had never talked to her about it, though.
"Oh, was I talking in my sleep?"
She gave me that puzzled look, like I didn't know something I should have, that look teenagers reserve for their ignorant and siblings, then said, "Well, kind of."
Janey sat up in bed, propping her pillows behind her. I didn't try to help her, as that would have meant touching her. As normal as she sounded, I didn't think she was ready for that. Unusual for her, she pulled the covers clear up to her chin, covering her body completely. When she was settled in an upright position, she did slip her hand out of the covers and recapture my finger, so I stayed where I was. We didn't talk anymore. We just sat in silence, each of us with our own thoughts.
Sally found us like that in the morning, and immediately burst into tears. They were happy ones, though.
Chapter 3
I was still awake when Sally gently lifted the covers and slid her naked body underneath. It was our first 'normal' night in over a week, with both of us in bed at the same time. Janey was sleeping comfortably now, and with their link, Sally would be awake at the first sign of trouble.
At first, Sally stayed completely on the far side of the bed, not wanting contact, or perhaps not wanting to wake me. After restlessly tossing about for a while, unable to get comfortable, or maybe just making sure I was awake, she edged closer, finally moving her gorgeous ass into me 'spoon fashion.' Now, under normal circumstances, when she came to bed naked and backed into me like that, it was a signal for a night of wild sex. Even though we had gone a long week without any sort of sexual relief, somehow I didn't think that was what she wanted tonight, and, fortunately, my dick behaved for once and didn't try to poke into her uncharacteristically unreceptive body. Self- preservation runs deep in my family.
I figured with all the bouncing around she had been doing that she wanted me to be awake, so I moved my arm over her and drew her close. Her large, firm tits, normally so convenient in that position, went unmolested as we cuddled. She gave a deep sigh and snuggled firmly into my body, savoring the simple skin- to-skin contact she shared with me all along her back from shoulders to toes. I expected more tears. She just sighed.
Sally was still in crisis mode and her mind was going a thousand miles an hour. So was mine. Several minutes - hours? - passed in silence.
"Larry? You awake?"
"Uh-huh." I hesitated, not knowing which direction to go. I took the safe route.
"So do you think Janey's going to be OK?"
I could feel her nod. "Yes. The doctors said by Monday she could go back to school with full activities. The counselor agreed too. She said the sooner she goes back the better."
"Monday? So soon? But...?" I let the unspoken question hang there. She didn't answer it.
Sally was quiet for a long time. I had almost given up continuing the conversation and, in all truth, I was content just to hold her. Skin on skin was something I could get used to, especially when it was hers and mine. Under the circumstances, the closeness had a healing, bonding effect on me. I hoped she was feeling the same things. Comfortable with these sensations, I almost missed it when she continued.
"Larry, you know how much I like sex."
Huh? This came from out the blue, from left field, from nowhere. My bewilderment must have been obvious, even in the dark. I could almost feel her grinning at my confusion.
"You must have realized by now, Larry, that I have a much higher than normal sexual appetite. I always have. I have been aware of it since I first learned and girls were different. It was difficult, especially when I was Janey's age, but I never let it control me, or determine my actions. Influence, yes, sometimes unwisely, but determine, no. Sex has been one of the biggest joys of my life.
"Janey is my in every way. I haven't encouraged or discouraged her sexuality. I didn't need to. She has masturbated since age 5, the same time I started. However, she has been aware from the beginning that other people wouldn't understand if she involved them in her activities and has always acted responsibly. She was - she is a good kid. She hasn't given me a bit of trouble in that way, and I always assumed she would grow up and have as rewarding a sex life as I have.
"But now? Oh, God, Larry, now I'm so afraid for her. Maybe it's weird, but she and I have a link or something between us, especially when we are close to each other. I can't explain it, exactly. It's like we can sense each other's moods and feelings. It's not mind reading, exactly. But I know when she's horny or happy, and she senses when I am sad, and how very happy you have made me." She stopped and brought her hands up between her breasts, capturing my hand between hers.
"The Janey I had 'felt' before is gone. Until today, no, it was last night sometime; all I got when I was near her was fear, fear of sex, fear of men, fear of herself and her sexual feelings, and tremendous guilt. It's as if she thinks she is responsible for what happened.
"I know right now she is healing physically and that she'll get over most of the pain in time. But her first sexual experience with another person was so traumatic, so horrendous! I'm afraid she'll never let a near her again, that she will never experience this, that she will never let anyone close enough to know love." She hugged my hands to her again to show me what she meant. "I'm afraid she will never have the courage to meet new people, to trust them, to venture out into the exciting places in life. That she will always be suspicious of people and that it will turn her into an ugly person. 'Ugly on the inside becomes ugly on the outside.'"
I let her talk. I didn't understand some of what she was saying, especially about that link thing and all, but I knew enough to keep quiet. Finally the silence got to me, and I had to open my big fat mouth.
"So is there anything we can do to help her get over this?" That's right. I said "we." Stupid, stupid, stupid.
She seemed to give a start, as if 'doing' something about it had not occurred to her. Or maybe it was that 'we' would do it together. I don't know. I do know I could sense the sudden change in her attitude and the change in the direction of her thoughts, even without being able to see her face. Her whole body radiated excitement as she grasped on to this tiny ray of hope.
"Well, what I think she needs is someone who can teach her, be patient with her, let her be the instigator while gently encouraging her exploration of her sexuality until her fear of sex is gone. It would have to be someone older; someone she trusts, someone more experienced. Someone she knows already."
"Where would you find someone like that?" I asked. "It doesn't sound like they would be listed in the Yellow Pages."
I just about said something about a particular High School teacher who came to mind. We had discussed his known proclivities for before, but the fucking teacher's union was strong in this state and he just kept on molesting - all right, allegedly molesting, girls. I also didn't think a 'funny' remark would have been the right thing to say at that particular moment. Given what she said next and what happened as a result, I sometimes wonder what would have happened if I had broken the mood at that moment. But we'll never know, will we?
"I don't know. Right now, you're the only I know of who I trust enough to...Oh, my! Larry!" her voice trailed off, as the solution became as obvious to her as my sudden erection jabbing into her ass.
Let me explain a few things. First, Sally is, as far as I am concerned, the perfect woman. Not just for me. She is THE perfect woman. I personally know of several other red-blooded males who agree, and who are extremely jealous of my relationship with her. Comments about giving a left nut in exchange for an evening with her, etc. might be inappropriate given the circumstances, but hey, it is the thought that counts, right?
Sally is smart, witty, loving, caring, giving, yada yada yada. Don't misunderstand. I don't mean to trivialize those attributes; I just need to save several megabytes of hard disk space by not listing each and every one of them. I consider things like honesty, integrity, and trust to be among her best qualities, but, for the moment, her physical attributes are more appropriate to consider.
Sally stands 5'2" in her feet. Those delicate feet grace the ends of two of the shapeliest legs God could ever dream of forming, if God ever dreamed at all, much less of female anatomy. At the top of her thighs, she is both trim and voluptuous at the same time. In front, her mound doesn't mound at all. Her stomach is hard and flat. Not a bulge, not a wrinkle in that silky smooth expanse of skin, even when bending over. Her hips flare slightly, and narrow to a waspish waist. And that's after one birth!
From behind, she looks slightly more Reubinesque. You've heard it said before, but in this case it is true: She has an ass to die for: high, tight and firm, yet soft to the touch with resilient, fully rounded, mouth watering mounds.
I remember vividly the first time that I had seen her near naked ass revealed to me in all of its splendor. She was in a thong bikini. We had been dating for about a month and things were going well between us. We were both anxious about out first sexual encounter, but realized that what was building between us was special. We both wanted to give it time to grow at its own pace. Not ready for an overnighter, well, I was ready, I just didn't want her to reject me this early on. Anyway, I invited her to a friend's secluded place on the island for the day.
When I arrived to pick her up on the appointed day, she skipped out to the car, not waiting for me to get out and come to the door as I usually did. Stopping by the door on my side of the car she slid off her thin cover- up, posed for me once or twice sexily, and then twirled around.
I must have choked or something, as she stopped halfway around and looked back inquisitively at me over her shoulder. My leering, lusting expression would have gotten me fired for sexual harassment in any office in America but the Oval Office, and I blushed, embarrassed at my obvious lust and arousal. My cock, earlier content to rest in the confines of my own suit, broke ranks and showed its swollen head over the waistband, high enough she could see it from where she stood.
My jaw moved, and I gestured apologetically, convinced she would bolt for the nearest policeman. Her spontaneous laughter and pleasure at my visible appreciation of her appearance and my obvious desire for her body saved the moment, making it one of the most special memories we shared.
I did wait until we got to the beach house, but I had to fuck her in the car before we even got to the sand. I couldn't walk I was so hard. When I think back, I didn't fuck her. We fucked each other. The fucking was more than mutual. We did it again on the blanket - before lunch. Twice more after lunch and a couple of times on the way back to the car. It was a long beach. Every time she walked in front of me in that tiny black thong bottom, I got rock hard. She knew it, too, enjoying her affect on me as much as I did.
That night at my apartment she came to bed in just those bikini bottoms, walking back and forth several times as she prepared for bed, dancing and teasing me to a hardness I had never thought possible this side of concrete.
That was the first time we did it anal. It wasn't the last. She wore that suit often.
So much for her ass.
If anything, Sally felt her were 'smallish'. They were nowhere near "small," filling her C-sized bra cups to overflowing. She liked the tight feeling, the bounce and jiggle a tight garment gave her chest, so she wore them that way. However, she didn't need to wear one at all. Her rode high, and were only slightly more rounded on the bottom when loosened from their confinement. Perky light pink nipples surrounded by darker rosy aureoles a little larger than a quarter. Those sensitive nubs would stiffen to hardened turgid buttons a little less that « inch long when she was aroused, which was often. Oddly, one of her nipples, the left, had been pierced at some time prior to our relationship. One of her mysteries, as yet unsolved.
She had hair, unusual green eyes - Irish green, not hazel - that didn't miss a moment of life, creamy smooth skin that tanned in two seconds and held it for months. When Sally learned of my penchant for tan lines, those three tiny white triangles of untagged skin over her nipples and lips, she developed a seemingly permanent set of distinct tan lines. I have always preferred white meat over dark, and I proved it to her the night she unveiled her new look, but it took hours and hours until she was fully convinced. I didn't mind at all.
Even with her killer body, it was her face I loved the most. I could watch her for hours, and did so as often as I could. She wasn't embarrassed at the attention I paid to her, even when she learned I got hard as iron simply by looking at her. She would just give me a knowing smile and laugh. Depending on the circumstances, she would alternatively torture me, making me even harder by flaunting her body, or she might relieve me with her hand or mouth. She was a sexy, beautiful woman, breathtaking, heart-stoppingly gorgeous, and generous to a fault.
She had one special look that could pierce my darkest mood and fire my blood as no one had ever done before. She would kind of a look up at me through her eyelashes with her face tilted slightly down and a little to one side. Her pouty lower lip would glisten with just the tip of her tongue showing, an innocent smile teasing the corners of her moist lips. I would melt. I would give diamonds, rubies, and my kingdom for that smile.
Once, when she looked at me like that, her tongue wasn't showing. Instead, she had just the knob of my swollen cock in her mouth. We had made a bet - I was still under the mistaken impression I had some control in this relationship - that she could make me with no hands, no bobbing, no sucking, no tonguing. Just her mouth. In under a minute.
She won. I didn't last 30 seconds. She just looked up at me with those incredible green eyes, batted them once or twice, wantonly winked at me, and had to swallow a gallon of my juice. Which she did, laughing with me. As the loser, I 'had' to attend the opera with her for six months.
That's the first thing I needed to explain.
The second is that Janey is all that, just younger and maybe a bit firmer in one or two places. Hell, she's almost 20 years younger, and, not to say that Sally looks or acts her age, Janey has the advantage and the allure of youth; more energy, more curiosity, more innocence.
Of course, I have to assume she looks the same naked as her mother. I have never seen anything but her legs and arms bare, and those matched up pretty close. I knew the two of them traded clothes all the time and Sally would only out the smallest of Janey's tops. Those tight ones happened to be my personal favorites, especially the bare midriff tank tops made of thin material. I checked the label for the size on one after it was carefully discarded for the night and purchased Sally several of her own for us. I replaced several of them as they kept being ripped off her whenever she wore them. I think Sally was secretly pleased with her overall effect on me, as she wore them often, many times taunting me in public by revealing she was wearing one under a sweater or sweatshirt.
But I digress. Although I had noticed and admired Janey, I had never thought of her in a sexual sense. Sally was all I wanted, all I needed, and Janey was a minor, a minor, for sure, but still underage. Let's face it, Sally was all I could handle, and besides, why spoil a terrific thing? On top of that, I didn't have all that much contact with Janey as I wasn't staying overnights that often. She had her life and Sally and I were building ours. I hoped, kind of, that she would be a bigger part of my life with Sally at some point, but like that? Holy Shit! No way!
So there we were, lying in bed, Sally's wonderfully firm, warm ass nestled in my crotch, talking quietly, dealing with this crisis in an adult and reasoned manner. And suddenly this of my cock disappearing into Janey's soft, warm, moist mouth springs unbidden into my head. It was clearly an inappropriate moment for a hard-on, but my pecker seemed suddenly to have developed a suicidal mind of its own. Instant woody, and it jabbed forcefully into Sally's ass, pressing directly into, but not penetrating her asshole. Thank God for small favors. Hey, how about an 'On/Off' switch on these things next time You design something? OK, Big Fella?
Somehow that vividly erotic image, and the multitude of others that quickly joined it in my brain of that vibrant teen in various sexual positions, invigorated my organ. It was a most inopportune time, considering she had just been assaulted.
I knew I was in deep shit.
There was no way for her to miss my arousal or to not know what had caused it. We had both realized the obvious, albeit ludicrous, solution at the same time. We just had different images of it. If I hadn't been so pre-occupied with the erotic visions filling my head, I might have tried to cover, scrabble together some romantic reason for my arousal, and make it perhaps a little better. As it was, I knew she knew. As I realized what had happened, time stopped dead while I waited for her to do or say something.
I almost cried out when she shifted her body away from me, leaving my erection bobbing freely in the space between us.
"Well. I see you like them young." Her voice was sounded almost bitter, hurt.
With that, she moved farther away from me. It was the first night we spent together, apart. I didn't like it.
I felt like dead walking. Walking in deep shit.
Chapter 4
The smell of fresh coffee and bacon filtered into the room late the next morning. I surveyed the room. I was at Sally's, so it hadn't all been a bad dream. Damn! I raised the sheets and checked my equipment. I breathed a sigh of relief. She hadn't pulled a Bobbit. In fact, it looked and felt as if my erection had never gone down. The few personal items I kept at her place were still hanging in the closet and sitting unbroken on the dressing table. So far, so good. No open suitcase for me to pack and leave.
I reviewed the final events of the previous evening in my head. Same conclusion, I had really fucked up this time.
The wafting aroma of a hearty breakfast had me confused, however. Sally and Janey were extremely health conscious and didn't eat a lot of eggs and bacon, or as Janey called them, 'cholesterol and nitrates in non-unsaturateds.' It's what she meant when she said 'CNN.'
Under normal circumstances, I had been able to associate these particular smells with the hearty breakfasts we would have following an exceptional night of wild passionate sex. Or of nights filled with passion and romance, not just fucking and sucking, as had been the case more often than not of late.
I slipped on my robe and walked out to the kitchen. On the way, I went past Janey's door, which was open. The bedroom doors in this house were always open, even during sex. It took a bit of getting used to, as Sally was extremely vocal during intercourse, announcing her pleasures with descriptive words and sounds. Privacy was for the bathroom, unless, of course she was horny. Janey respected the privacy visually, but I wondered how much she heard.
I peeked in on Janey, to check on her, of course. She was still fast asleep, but curled into a protective fetal position, as if hugging herself. I continued on, following my nose to the kitchen.
At the door to the kitchen I paused and reconnoitered. Two place settings, both with coffee cups, one of them was the cup reserved for my use, another good sign. Fresh squeezed orange juice, a special treat. Sally hated the work it took. I cautiously cleared my throat, ready to duck at the first sign of flying utensils.
"Good morning, lover. Hungry?"
'Lover?' Me? I quickly checked behind me to see if anyone else was there. Nope, just me.
"Uh, sure. You know I like a big breakfast..."
I bit my tongue, as I had almost added 'after a night of great sex.' I edged closer to the table, still watching for flying pottery or hot grease.
Sally was standing at the stove, wearing her 'I just had another night of great sex' robe. It was the silk one and was short enough you could just see the bottom swells of her ass cheeks. When it was cinched tight with the silk rope belt, like it was now, you could see everything, back and front. Usually that meant 'breakfast can wait, shove the dishes on the floor and do me hard and fast on the table.' I had no idea what it meant this morning. I took another cautious step towards the table.
She watched my progress with a strange expression on her face. It was more a wry smile than anything, but there was a definite element of sadness in it to, or seriousness, maybe.
"Sit." It was gentle, like the final concession in an argument, but it was an order, nonetheless.
I sat, trembling slightly.
She came over with two plates, business-like. They were hot out of the oven. She put them down, poured the coffee and sat down with me at the table. She then proceeded to push her food all around her plate until it was a congealed mass in the center. It looked just like my plate.
I had been watching her fidget for the longest time. I had only known her to fidget once before, and that was the first night she asked me to stay over with her when Janey was there, too. Indecision was not something I was used to from her. She finally noticed me watching her and blushed. That surprised me.
"Is something on your mind, Sally?"
"Yes. No. Yes. But I don't know how to start."
This was even more uncharacteristic of her, and immediately I misunderstood. "Look, if it's about last night, I'm terribly sorry. I don't know what happened that it popped up like that. I was tired, we were both stressed out because of what - you know, all that happened. And it's been a long time since we, well, did anything together to relieve the stress. I swear to you with all my heart, soul and body, I have never thought of Janey in that way before. Cut it off and toss it out if I'm lying! I don't know what came over me."
I hesitated, choked up a bit. "Just don't make me leave you."
My eyes started to water. Hey, it was an emotional moment. I was really sincere, and I was sincerely afraid she would never let me see her again. I was prepared to continue to beg, plead, scream, grovel or whatever it took to obtain her forgiveness. Fortunately she took pity on me and stopped me.
"That's very sweet of you. I'll bet I could almost get you to grovel on the floor, couldn't I?"
I nodded. My heart sank to my knees. I wasn't all that good at begging, really.
"And I wouldn't think of cutting it off. It has - you 'both' have brought me too much happiness and pleasure. That's sort of what I wanted to talk to you about."
She chewed on the next line for a long time.
"I want you to teach Janey about sex."
My ears were playing tricks on me, but my prick had heard and was rising once again to the challenge. It popped its head out between the flaps of my robe, as if wanting to participate in the conversation. It was so hard it hurt. I was going to have to do something about these uncontrollable erections. More sex more often, maybe?
Sally looked at me, waiting for a response, other than the one sticking out of my robe. I think she wanted something verbal, some response from the cognitive side of my brain.
"You're serious." It was a statement, not a question. A thousand thoughts whipped through my head, with the foremost being the jolting realization that my position in this house was not as precarious as I had at first thought. In fact, I suddenly felt pretty damn smug. But I wanted to see how much it meant to her.
"You want me, a much man, to teach your underage daughter about sex? Do you mean teach, as in 'tell her about it,' or teach, as in 'actually have sex with?'"
Her hands over her beautiful face muffled her answer, as if trying to hide from the absurdity of this conversation, to blank it from her mind.
"What? I didn't quite catch that." So I lied, big deal. I had heard just fine. I just wanted her to repeat it for posterity, and to make really, really, really sure.
"Have sex with. I want you to have sex with my under- aged teenage and show her how wonderful it can be. Whatever it takes to do that. Satisfied?" She had enunciated her answer very carefully, as if speaking to an idiot or a foreigner. No offense intended. Everyone does it to foreign visitors. She glared at me across the table.
"No."
She looked at me disbelieving, almost in shock.
"Check that. Let me clarify. I mean, 'No, I'm not satisfied with your answer'. Don't take that as a 'No' to the sex part. Yet."
I was grinning at her like an idiot, which I was. I had the upper hand for the first time and she knew it. She also didn't like it and knew I was going to rub it in. Good.
"How much sex?"
She glared at me. I kept going.
"What kind of sex? How often? Is she on the pill? You know I don't use condoms..."
I looked down and then grinned up at her.
"...They don't fit very well, as you well know."
God, this was fun! I had her squirming, dangling at the end of a short line, the hook set deep.
She actually blushed again. This was amazing. When she answered, it was not what I expected.
"Do whatever she wants, whatever you want. Just make her enjoy it. No, wait. Now let me clarify. 'Help' her enjoy it. Don't 'make' her do anything."
She looked up at me, pleading with her eyes. Damn, she played unfair!
"Help me, Larry. Help me help her. Please, Larry. I don't know what to do. I just don't know..."
The tears started then.
Leave it to a woman to cry just when it was getting fun. Hell, even I'm not that insensitive, and I had halfway thought she was kidding. She wasn't. She was serious. I felt like the schmuck I had been acting like.
I reached over and took both of her hands in one of mine. I wanted to stop her wringing them, if not to comfort her. She was clearly nervous and scared I would turn her down. While doing untold good for my ego, her request and the implicit trust it placed in me scared me absolutely shitless. I realized very clearly that no matter which way I went, there was a more than even chance I could lose it all. I didn't think I could take that.
I was quiet for a long time, silently holding her hands. She wisely let me think of exactly what I wanted to say. For once.
"First off, I am sincerely sorry about my physical reaction last night. You are the only woman for me, and you have been the only one since that first moment I laid eyes on you. Please believe me."
She nodded. "I know. But it surprised me. Your reaction seemed somehow, well, inappropriate. I know she's attractive and that she's growing up - and out - very fast, but I never sensed you had those kinds of thoughts about her. If I had, whether it was true or not, you would have never seen us again.
"And I do believe you think you love me. Geeze, you've asked me to marry you enough times."
Ouch. That one hurt. All right, so I had proposed to her within 5 minutes of seeing her the first time. We had barely been introduced and it popped out of my mouth. Funny thing is, we both knew I was dead serious. I had cut down my barrage of proposals a lot in the last 6 months, mostly just begging with her during, before and after sex, of which we had a lot. She didn't seem to mind. She just never accepted. At least now I knew she had heard me. Maybe one more shot at it? I was in a good position here, after all.
"Second, she will have to approach me. I won't seduce her."
As she nodded her agreement, a tear trickled down her cheek.
"Third, if it means any chance of losing you, the answer is 'No.' I will not risk that."
Another nod, more tears.
"Last, I don't want this to create trouble between you two. I'm not so vain as to think I could turn the head of a pretty teenager, but if you two are sharing the same on a regular basis..."
I saw her flinch at that comment.
"...there is bound to be an emotional bond that grows between Janey and me as well, maybe even a little competition. What happens if she falls in love with me, or thinks she is? What if she tries to displace you in my heart? Can you deal with that? You'll have to, as I don't think I could stop her without crushing her spirit even more than it is now. I won't risk that, either. She has been too much."
That last was said almost with vehemence.
A grin spread across her face. She realized I had all but agreed, and was relieved. And she had thought that far ahead to contemplate the possible complications and she was not concerned. That part she could deal with, or would if and when it happened.
"If you think I am going to lose my to some fresh- faced chippy, you had better think again!"
She looked me directly in the eyes, grinning smugly.
"I've got tricks up my sleeve you haven't even dreamed about, buster. Experience will beat out youthful exuberance any day."
God, she was beautiful. But I still had the upper hand. I wanted something from her, something big. But I couldn't make her just give it to me because of the situation. She would resent it later if not now, and so would I, really. I had to win it fair and square.
"OK. But only on one condition."
She paled. She hated conditions. "What is it?"
"I want to win the bet."
For a minute she had a puzzled look on her face. She had no idea where I was going. Then she realized I had said 'the' bet. She grew more perplexed.
"Huh? What makes you think you can win now? Remember the last time? What's your record, 30 seconds?" She eyed the silent helmeted observer peeking out from my robe. She reached over and lightly stroked the dark head with the tip of her finger. I almost shot my load then.
"Or do you just want a blow job? I'll give you that right now, no charge!"
In a shaky voice I responded, "I can win. I have to. And I want to raise the stakes."
"Oh, really? Remind me of the original bet."
"We, you bet that you could make me in less than one minute using only your mouth, no hands, no tongue, no suction, no motion."
"And the stakes?"
"If you won, which you did, I was to accompany you to the opera for six months, my treat, which I have done. If I won, which I didn't, I was to get to shave your pussy bald, and help you keep it that way for six months."
"What do you want to raise the stakes to?"
"Same stakes as before. Plus, if you win, I do anything you decide."
Sally was quiet for a minute, and then she spoke, "At first I thought to myself, 'Big deal. He loses and he gets to fuck my after taking me to the opera.' But..." she paused for effect, "...anything?"
I nodded.
She paused again. "Anything? You would never, ever ask me to marry you again, if that's what I wanted?"
I paled. I could even hear the italics in her voice. She knew me too well. I nodded my agreement. Slowly.
"Those are pretty big stakes. You must really want something big. What do I have to do for you if you win on a fluke? Come on, what do you want, Stud?"
In answer, I said nothing. I simply played with the shiny golden ring on the little finger of my left hand. It was a simple band, but designed for a much smaller hand. One more her size. It had been there almost 18 months, in constant readiness. I was ready if she ever changed her mind and said "Yes" to one of my proposals.
She followed my gaze to my hands. She saw the ring.
"Oh. Larry, I... we... Oh, shit!"
I waited for the explosion that never came. I waited for her to turn down the bet. She had turned them down before when she felt the stakes were too high. I waited for...
"Five minutes. I get five minutes to make you cum."
"YES!"
It was a shout of spontaneous joy after a lifetime of hopelessness. My heart leaped in my chest. She had agreed to the bet! We were simply negotiating the details. I had not dared hope she would agree. I had only wanted to get it back on the table and move her closer to what I considered the inevitable. But, shit, 5 minutes. I was not made of stone. We had proven that the last time!
"I mean, No! Not 5 minutes. 90 seconds," I countered.
"Four minutes."
"Two."
"Three." It was all the concession I was going to get and we both knew it. God help me.
"Done..."
Chapter 5
"... But I get to make one condition to be specified only after you agree. Take it or leave it."
I was praying she would leave it. There was no fucking way I could last that long in that moist steaming cauldron of her sexy mouth, so hot and moist, tight... Stop it, you idiot! You'll lose before you start!
"OK. When do you want to lose?"
Oh, shit I'm a goner. Maybe if I go jack off for a month solid...
"Right now. But I can't lose."
Her head snapped up so fast, I thought she would get whiplash. She knew, she could bloody see the condition I was in and what condition my cock was in. She could see it throbbing, lusting at her. She had seen me almost lose it when she had merely stroked it with her fingertip. We hadn't had intercourse for more than a week, because of the last week's events. I was loaded for bear and we both knew it. Shit, it was already glistening with oozing pre-cum in anticipation of her warm mouth engulfing it. Soft and warm, gently surrounding the throbbing head, even if only for one brief moment... STOP IT.
She got up without another word and moved beside my chair. I turned my chair so she was between my legs. All she had to do was kneel down, lean forward and win the bet. She started to kneel down. I had to delay her for a minute. Focus on something else. I looked around the kitchen frantically for a diversion.
"Wait. I had a condition."
She grinned at me, confident, too confident. I had to change our positions, somehow. Re-establish the smugness I had felt earlier, sort of.
"You're going to blindfold me?"
She batted her eyes. She knew me too well. But it did give me an idea. Maybe...
In answer, I reached up and loosened the black silk rope holding her robe closed. I pulled it free from the belt loops.
"Turn around."
She did with saucy flip of her hips, a dare, a challenge.
I made a loop at one end of belt and slipped it over her wrist. I pulled that wrist behind her into the small of her back. She resisted slightly as I caught her other hand and gently pulled it back behind her. She was strangely quiet and there was a visible tremor to her whole body. The sauce had mellowed.
"Please, not this..."
It was a barely audible whisper. But she stopped before she finished.
"What did you say?"
She cleared her throat.
"Nothing. Just a bad memory."
I secured the two wrists together behind her. There was rope left over, and I figured 'What the hell. Let's go for broke.' I wound the rope up and around her forearms to her elbows, pulling each wind a little tighter, drawing her elbows towards each other. In testament to her flexibility, when I finished, they were touching. She had not made another sound. I touched her hip to indicate she could face me.
"Oh... My... God!"
I was unprepared for the sight I beheld. Tying her hands behind her back and forcing her elbows together had the glorious effect of forcing her chest out through the open robe. They were standing proudly up thrust, firm and quivering with her - what - fear? Anger? She was definitely shaking.
Whether it was the conversation, the cool air conditioning, or (dare I hope?) her reaction to bondage, her nipples betrayed her arousal as did the distinctive odor of her visibly dripping pussy. Even her swollen clit was visible. I had about as much of the upper hand as I was ever going to get with this wonderful woman. It was now or never.
I set my watch on chronograph and zeroed it out. I placed it on the arm of the chair facing her so we could both see it. She kneeled down in front of me. Instead of initiating the bet, as she usually did, she waited for my signal.
I nodded to her. "Now."
I waited until she had the head fully in her mouth before I started the timer. One of her eyebrows raised in a silent question.
I answered her with, "Just so there is no question when I win."
I sounded way more confident that I felt.
As she couldn't nod without defaulting, she merely lowered the eyebrow and closed her eyes. She shut me out, trying to help me win! Damn it all and fuck that shit. I got mad.
"I'll call the whole thing off right now if you don't try to win!" I snapped at her. I reached down and lifted her mouth off my cock.
"I-I-I'm ccccuuuummminnnggg," she gasped, visibly shuddering.
In a flash, ashamed, I was beside her on the floor, supporting her sagging body. Her breath stabilized after a long while, evening out as she lay heavily against my chest.
"Here, let me untie you. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to tie it so tight. It was stupid."
She shook her head, stopping me.
"No. Wait! Yes, but later. It's just been a long time since..." Again she didn't finish.
"Want to tell me about it?" I asked.
"Later, Lover. Damn, you're good..." Her sense of humor was back, anyway.
Catching her breath, she asked in a strangely submissive voice, "May I try again?"
I swore there was an unspoken word at the end of that sentence. Something like "Sir," or "Master." Or maybe I was dreaming.
"You sure you're up to it?"
She snorted. "Are you? Oh, yes. I can see you are..."
I sat back up in the chair and scooted my butt forward to the edge of the seat. My iron hard prick stood straight up from my groin, within easy reach of her mouth. Again she waited for my signal.
I reset the clock to zero. Her eyes widened. And I thought I saw a malicious twinkle in them. Good, at least she was getting back to normal.
"Now."
As before, she leaned forward. Knowing I wouldn't start the clock until she had the whole head in her mouth, she took her time getting it all in. And, if the clock wasn't running, the restrictions of the bet didn't apply. She kissed and lathered and and bobbed and tongued all around the tip of my cock, driving me fucking ape-shit. This was the competitor I knew and loved. But two could play that game.
Very smoothly I moved my shin to place my foot to about where I guessed her crotch would be. When her mouth was centered over my prick, I moved my foot up so it just caressed her pussy. Surprised at the sudden contact, she gasped, opening her mouth. I thrust up with my hips and her lips engulfed the entire head.
I started the clock.
She did her damnedest to win this time. Her sexy eyes never left mine. She had that sultry look down cold, and was beating down my resistance with those devilish dancing green eyes.
At 30 seconds I was sweating. The heat generated by her mouth was incredible. I could feel her heartbeat and mine both in the head of my cock. The more I concentrated on the twin beats, the closer they got.
At 45 seconds our heartbeats synchronized. I tried to blank my mind, but all I could see was Janey in her mother's place, kneeling submissively before me, her lips nestled at the base of my cock.
I quit trying to blank my mind. The way I was going that was a sure-fire way to loose.
At 60 seconds, trickles of sweat coalesced and trailed down my chest and pooled in my navel. This was more effective than a sauna!
Her eyes suddenly began dancing, sparkling with a vitality I had never seen in her before. When my foot, still directly under her crotch, got wet, I knew she had again. But she hadn't defaulted by moving, moaning or sucking. I glanced at the clock. She had at 90 seconds. We're only halfway. God! I'll never make it! Her eyes flicked to the clock with mine, then snapped back to capture them again. I never thought of looking away. I should have.
If I had thought she was trying before, I was badly mistaken. Her current efforts at seductive 'come hither' looks were beyond anything I had seen before. The looks she gave me for the next 90 seconds would have seduced a statue.
She almost won. She took advantage of my foot below her and slowly lowered her body, capturing my foot with her sopping cunt. Her only reaction when I wiggled my big toe was to slightly close her eyes, shudder a bit and shift so it wasn't directly over her clit. I shifted it back, grinning at her and began a steady rotation of my toe over her button.
With my foot sort of trapped beneath her, she slowly turned her body without moving her head, letting her stiff nipples scratch along the hairs of my thigh, one after the other. I'll bet you never considered your legs as an erogenous zone. I sure hadn't. I do now.
The ends of the armrests on my chair snapped off suddenly in my death grip as the timer crawled towards the 3-minute mark. My eyes darted back and forth between her eyes and the timer like a trapped animal.
2:58
I could have recited every poem I have ever learned in the space of time from then until the end. And I was a poetry minor in college.
2:59
God could have done all 7 days of creation here. Twice.
3:00
3:01
3:02
I didn't cum. As surprised as I was, Sally was even more so. For the first time I saw something in her eyes that bordered on true respect. She respected control, especially the ability to control one's sexual urge. She'd had to do so all her life. Her did as well. I may have been the first person, male person, anyway, she could truly respect in that way.
3:30
She was now waiting patiently at my feet, a stillness about her. She had lost, but knew I still had something to prove. She sat there, a beautiful woman, hands bound behind her, quietly fucking herself on my toe and caressing my thighs with her nipples, waiting for me; for what I wanted. I felt her dripping steadily down my foot, the contractions on my toes delightful. A pool of her juices was forming at my heel.
4:15
Her mouth must have been sore by now. But she had never moved, or tongued throughout. Still I lasted. She waited with me, for me.
5:00
Chapter 6
"Now!"
It was a quiet command to her, as well as a warning to her that I was going to flood her mouth. We came together. I had so much stored pumping into her oral cavity, it flowed out her nose. It dripped to the floor beneath my chair.
I sat back in the chair, and placed the broken armrests on the table. I would fix them later. Right now, I was totally drained, exhausted, exhilarated. I had won! I didn't even want to think about what would have happened if I had lost. I had won! We would marry.
I understood she had not agreed to a time frame and I grinned, thinking of the next bet we would make in order to set the date. I was about to mention this to her, but stopped as I watched her thoroughly clean my semi-erect cock with her tongue. She then bent completely over and licked my foot clean. She proceeded from there to lick up the drops of cum, hers and mine, that had fallen to the kitchen floor.
Sitting back on her heels when she finished, she waited for me to speak, but I was speechless. I was not used to this behavior, had never seen it before, but was damned sure I could get used to it real quick. If I could just figure out what was going on.
A slight motion of my hand, and she slipped up and settled on my lap, facing me, one leg out to either side of my hips. My stiffening organ nestled against her gaping cunt, and as I hardened and lengthened, she shifted back and forth so that it grew up into her. As it stiffened, I felt her contract almost continuously, her green eyes now lidded.
I lifted her knees, bringing her feet off the floor. This forced her to settle completely on my cock with her entire weight. A tremendous sob tore from her as she gasped out my name.
"Oh, Laaarry!" The pressure her muscles exerted on me felt like she was going to snap my cock off at the base. As she slowly relaxed from this major climax, she tipped forward and nestled her face in the crook of my neck. For a while I thought she was asleep until I felt her lips gently working.
Damn! A hickey! That mischievous minx! I had an important meeting on Friday with a new client.
Without thinking, I swatted at her ass with my open hand. It was just a light slap, honest! I was not prepared for her response. It was as if every muscle in her body, including those gripping my prick for dear life, contracted at their greatest strength. Her legs shot rigid out behind the chair. Her back arched even more, offering her glorious to my mouth. This seizure/climax seemed to last forever, until she could finally gasp out a plea.
"God! Shit! Fuck! Oh, God! Please, Larry. Stop for a minute. Uuuhhh. We have, uuuhhh, to talk."
I stopped toying with her reluctantly. I waited for her to get off my prick. I waited for her to ask to be untied. Her arms must be aching by now. I waited.
She didn't move off my staff, nor did she ask to be released. She jumped right in, no hesitation this time.
"My last boyfriend... You have to know... He Janey.... And me...."
She was speaking in gasps. I shushed her, bringing my lips to hers. She stayed right there in my face, resting her forehead on mine, her nose smashed against mine. I traced her lips with my tongue, tasting myself on her. In many ways, this felt more intimate than fucking her.
"Gary was my last boyfriend before you, about four years ago."
I did the math in my head. Janey had been ten or eleven years old.
"We had been together a long time, two years or so, and over time, I came to relax my guard around him. I guess I let myself believe we were in love, although I knew we weren't.
"He was good with Janey at first, spending time with her, rough-housing as only a guy can with a girl. She seemed to like him. They were inseparable on weekends, and, after she was in bed, he would fuck me silly. Things were great for the first 6 months or so.
"Then one night he said he wanted to try something different. He used a belt or something and tied me to the bed. I went wild. It was the most exciting thing I had ever experienced up until then. I mean, I knew what bondage was, and had dabbled, but Gary took it serious. When he tied me up, it was for real, even that first time.
"He saw my reaction to it and rapidly introduced me to more and more bondage and domination, the stricter the better. I got hooked on it, really hooked. It was the closest thing I have ever had to an addiction. When I was tied up, I felt exhilaration, a real rush. For the first time in my life, I could relax sexually, let go. When I was bound, I was free.
"It sounds strange, but try to understand. All my life I had had to maintain control over my sex drive. But when I was tied up, it was as if I wasn't in control anymore. I could give full vent to my passionate side. It was a heady, dangerous thing to do, but I gave into it. I surrendered to it totally and, unfortunately, to Gary.
"I didn't know Gary was deeper into it than I was, actually closer to S&M. Humiliation, my humiliation, began to play an increasingly greater part of our playtimes, or 'scenes,' as he called them. I won't go into everything that went on, but I can't think of anything that he didn't make me do. Nothing was too disgusting or vile. He used just enough bondage to keep me hooked, and I crawled willingly along after him.
"Gary had a great thing going. He bragged about it to his friends. First he just brought them over to show me off; first just one, then two, then more. At one party, he let someone else tie me up. The next, someone else whipped me. Then he gave me away sexually to his friends. Parties, weekends, you name it.
"Then one day Janey came home early from a friend's house and caught me being fucked by five and two women, all strangers. Gary pulled her over and told her to watch her slut service each one of the guests at the party. He told her it would be good for her to learn what she was going to become one day. He then held her up against his naked body, with her back pressed to his limp cock dribbling down her white cotton blouse. He held her there and forced her to watch her suck the women and fuck the men. I kicked him out the next day and haven't seen him since.
"She was just eleven, but she understood I was torn between satisfying my sexual needs and the hating humiliation and pain he made me suffer through to get the satisfaction I craved. That was when we began to discover the full extent of the bond - that link I told you about that we have between us. I wouldn't have made it through that time without Janey's help. She would sense when I was getting antsy and keep me busy, usually with a behavior crisis of her choosing. God, she could be a real brat. She had to be, to keep me busy enough to get over my own emotional ups and downs.
"It was only after I was pretty much back to an even keel that I began to sense her loss. Until you, Gary was the only she had ever known. He was her father- figure, sort of."
I interrupted her. I had to ask.
"What happened to her real father?"
She opened her eyes and gazed myopically into mine. She was too close to focus, but I sensed the hesitation and the pain in them. With a sigh, she answered.
"Her and I were when I was 19. He was much older, a businessman and I was a trophy wife. He saw me at the local campus where I was a sophomore. I didn't understand my place was on the shelf, to be quiet and look pretty. I wanted the fairy tale, love, romance, sex, children...
"He was a businessman, like I said, and not a good one. His grandfather or great-grandfather had invented those metal grommets for the shoelace holes in shoes. Imagine how many of those things there are, 24 or more per pair of shoes, more in boots. Instant bazillionaire. By the time my husband got the company, though, the patents had run out and the business was all but dead. After a series of bad investments, me being one of them, he made a last attempt to merge with another company, but in the process lost it all. It was a shady deal, but he was greedy and got stupid. He died within a week. I think when he realized how badly he had been taken, the shock of it killed him. He was a very proud man.
"The new partners had set up a sizable insurance policy with the new merger - a Key Policy, or something like that. It was supposed to be his part of the contract. The bastards had reduced their costs by limiting the life of the policy to 30 days. My husband died 3 days before the expiration date. Nine months later Janey was born. His last two acts, he finally got it right. I'm sorry he never got to meet Janey. It might have made a difference... He would have made a great father."
It her to talk about it. This was her failure, too. Or she saw them that way.
"Anyway, it took forever for the Insurance Company to pay off. They suspected suicide, then all but accused me of murder. The only thing was, neither of us had known about the policy. I wasn't even supposed to be the beneficiary. Some ditzy secretary had automatically filled in my name as beneficiary, and no one had checked it. They had exaggerated his value to the merged company by several millions of dollars, much more than his whole company was worth or had been worth for several years. And I got it all. Tax-free."
Several of the missing pieces to the puzzle of the past were falling into place; just a couple more for now, and then more for the future.
"Where do we go from here, my love?"
She sat up and looked me in the eye. She took a while, apparently looking for something. Or was she probing my emotions, my feelings? I felt something snooping around in my head, I think. I don't know. It felt strange, like someone else was in there with me.
What passed between us just then, together with what we had experienced earlier seemed to grow and merge within the two of us, becoming something real. A part of me was in her, a part of her was in me. I know, that sounds corny. I never believed that shit, either. I just don't know how else to explain it, but something inside of us had touched the other. Maybe that's what they mean by having an epiphany. If it is, we had one.
And it was great.
We knew each other better now, and in a different way. She was finally convinced I was not Gary, that I had no hidden agenda, and I would not lead her down the same path of shame and humiliation, nor would I subject her daughter to that humiliation. She didn't know, nor did I what path we would go down from here, but she trusted me. With my cock still embedded deep within her, she playfully squeezed me with her muscles.
She kissed my lips lightly and gave me an impish smile before casting her twinkling eyes downward, bowing her head in a voluntary submissive posture. What she said next thrilled me to my core, and set the course for a major part of the next phase of our relationship.
"Anywhere you want, I will follow you..."
This time, the missing word was added.
"...Master."
Chapter 7
I had won the bet. She would be my bride at last. 'When' was another question altogether, but the 'if' part was now gone.
More to the immediate point of settling up the bet, my Sally had a bare by noon. With all the frivolity and ribald comments during the procedure, I think we were both surprised there were no nicks or cuts. By 2:00 in the afternoon, I would estimate I had consumed at least a gallon of her cum. There is something about a smooth, hairless that just tastes better. We were both looking forward to the frequent touch-ups. It was to become one of our favorite times together.
Originally, I had chosen this wager for the bet because I knew she wouldn't like it. Now, neither of us could understand why we had not done this earlier. She was so much more sensitive, responsive, and accessible. She would be shaved much longer than six months.
We were lying on the bed, head to toe. Or rather, heads to groins. I rolled over on my back, keeping her on top of me. I slowly moved my tongue over the length of her swollen slit. The aroma of all of the day's play combined into a heady mix. It was heavenly. My limp cock stirred.
She must have had her eyes open, as she immediately sucked in the pink head swelling right under her nose. Her next actions told me she was bent on bringing me off as fast as she could.
"Slow down, my love. Go to completion, but make it last." These commands were delivered around languorous licks to her slippery cunt.
She immediately slowed her actions, but she intensified the suction. It felt like she was trying to suck my balls up through my penis like chunks of strawberry fruit in a real milkshake that get stuck in the straw. I focused on her pleasure to take my mind off the feelings growing in my balls. I partially succeeded. She came three times before I exploded into her mouth.
Only then did I release her arms. She hadn't asked me to even then, but she had been bound for over 5 hours, without one complaint. She was very still as I massaged her shoulders, working out the kinks. When she stirred, I stopped. She rolled over, reached up and pulled me down to her. She held me so tight, I thought she would never let me go, and with the strength of her embrace, I knew I would never be able to break away. Not that I wanted to. She moved her lips to my ear.
"Thank you." Just that, nothing more. Nothing more was needed.
And then the Sally was back. She was in control, sure of herself, feisty, my lover, my equal.
It wasn't rocket science. But this much I had figured out: When she was bound, I was in total control. She didn't even want a safe-word. She had to explain what that was to me later. When she was free, we were equals. We both agreed we could live with that. Even better, I got to decide when she was bound and when she was free.
She said she had things to take care of and got up. 'Life goes on,' or something like that. I don't know how she did it, where she got her energy. I was exhausted.
The first thing I did was take a short nap. Then I checked on Janey. I wasn't being selfish by sleeping first. I had seen Sally go in to check on her first thing after she left our bed. She hadn't seemed anxious for her the entire time we had been 'playing,' but we both knew our concern for her was just below the surface. One noise from her, and it would have ended immediately. Anyway, Sally had looked down the hall at me as she exited Janey's room, gave me a bright smile and the 'OK' sign.
When I checked a couple of hours later, she was still sleeping soundly, but seemed a little less troubled. She had tossed the light covers off and one very long leg and one slim arm were exposed; or would have been exposed, except she was wearing her tracksuit. The rape counselor mentioned she might prefer that. Immediately after a sexual assault, most victims can't come to terms with their bodies and try to hide them completely. The bulkier and more misshapen the clothes the better to remove any hint of gender-oriented form.
Janey looked as if she had three or four layers under the normally sleek suit. She looked like an advertisement for that Eddie Murray where he wears a body suit to add a hundred or so pounds. She even had the ankle and wrist zippers closed and she was wearing her slippers. I noticed the hood was up over her head and the drawstring tied under her chin, as if she were trying to cover herself entirely up. A twisting knot developed in my gut and tried to rip my heart out as I began to understand the depth of her pain, confusion, and hurt. I swore right then and there that, as bizarre a plan as her had proposed, if that would help Janey, my Janey heal, I would do it, whatever it took, even if I had to risk losing Sally.
I covered her arm and leg, tucked her in and kissed her forehead. I had to wipe away a few tears that had fallen on her from somewhere. They couldn't have been from me - I never cry. I offered up another fervent prayer for her quick and total recovery.
I wandered around the quiet house and ended in the family room. I heard Sally bustling around in the cellar. It sounded as if she was dragging several large boxes or crates around and vacuuming. I vaguely wondered why she would be cleaning the basement, but dismissed it.
The room was a comfortable room, like the rest of the house. It was hard to imagine any room decorated by Sally that didn't reflect her personality. Of course, I was just a tad biased.
I turned on the and flipped through the channels, finding nothing worth watching. I scanned the bookshelf for titles I had read. I could only find a couple I had even heard of, much less read. No trashy novels here. It was quiet in the basement again. I looked around the room and saw a telephone on the desk. That reminded me that there was something I had to do.
I called the opera house. No, I didn't cancel. I renewed my season tickets, upgraded to a full season, and added one seat to the account for Janey. Sally had joined me in the living room and listened to the phone call in silence. As I place the telephone back in the cradle on the desk, I turned to face her to see what she wanted.
She attacked me.
Not in a mean spirited way, but with sharp fingernails jabbing for ticklish, tender areas, throw pillows actually used for throwing, knees, elbows, head-butts. My gentle little wife-to-be was intent on some serious roughhousing.
The robes we had thrown on upon leaving her bedroom were the first casualties. Mine came untied in the first assault and she tried to use the belt to trip me up. I managed to snag hers on the second lap around the sofa. The black silk rope belt we had put to such good use earlier in the day got tangled in the belt loops and she shimmied out of the robe so I wouldn't use it to pull her in. Seeing her bouncing around her chest was extremely distracting, and I tended to spend more time watching them move than paying attention to where I was going.
I was at a bit of a disadvantage. I didn't know what the rules of this particular game were, or if there even were any. I still don't know, and don't care, as we were having a tremendously good time, laughing and screaming. I bellowed as she drenched me with the water from a vase of flowers, and I discarded my dripping robe, more to limit the water damage than anything. I discovered a cache of rubber bands in a desk drawer. She shrieked as if mortally wounded as I shot them at her across the desk. I had her on the run for a while, her ass and my favorite targets. Then my ammo ran low.
I retreated in earnest after the first swat of the fly swatter she discovered discarded behind an easy chair caught my pecker broadside. She had been aiming for my butt, but I turned suddenly. I hollered "Shit," grabbed my jewels and started backing away from her in a panic. A look of horror crossed her face as she realize where she had struck me, but she quickly recovered from her shock, shrugged an "I'm sorry" at me, and immediately tried to hit it again, albeit with much less force.
Fuck this shit! I was going to do the honorable thing and run like hell in retreat. I had both hands in the basic 'save the jewels' position, and was backing away from her as fast as I could. I intended to get to a small room with a locking door, but she was always one step ahead of me and herded me around the room like a cutting cattle. Damn, she was fast!
By the time I backed into and tripped over the arm of the sofa, landing in the dead cockroach position, I was a mass of blotches. Nothing vital was injured, but Sally took every opening to torment me. She gleefully pounced on this new opportunity to attack my unprotected feet and calves as they waved in the air above me.
After several bellows and cries for mercy she said, "Say 'Uncle!' If you give, say 'Uncle.'"
Call me macho, call me a male chauvinist pig, call me stupid, call me what you want, but there is just something that gets stuck in my throat when I think about crying 'Uncle' to a girl. It has been like that ever since my Dad told me that I was a and had to be tough, but then I realized he had a different set of rules for my sister. I made the mistake of hesitating to surrender and tried to grab my feet to try to protect them. The tip of the incessant swatter instantly found my uncovered privates. That was all it took.
"UUUUNCLE!! SHIT, DAMN IT, OUCH!
She shouted, "I WIN!" and tossed her superior weaponry over her shoulder. I made a mental note to get rid of that fucking thing the first chance I had.
Whooping and cheering, she dove on my prone body, covering the myriad blotches with smoochy kisses and "Mommy will make it feel better"-type comments. She was really rubbing it in that she had 'whupped' a 6'3" man that had about 100 solid, not flabby, pounds on her. She was all over me, touching, caressing, and rubbing. I didn't realize she had maneuvered me to the middle of the sofa until she suddenly settled her freshly shorn over my face and announced,
"I want my reward!"
I had been planning on being a sore loser, pouting for a while, but when presented with her own pouting lips staring me in the face, I felt I could be gracious in defeat. I grabbed her hips, pulled her down, rolled and stiffened my tongue and shoved it as far up her ass as I could.
Her shriek of surprise shattered into giggles. I hadn't been sure of her reaction to rimming, but she sure seemed to enjoy it. I wasn't aware of how much she enjoyed it until she attacked my soft, sore, tired dick with a ferocity I had not experience that often from her heretofore.
The way she was going at it, I was more than a little fearful she would suck it off and it, as that seemed what she was determined to do. I had hoped to distract her by fingering her and clit in addition to tongue-fucking her asshole, but to my amazement and immense pleasure, she swallowed more and more of my increasing length as I stiffened.
She gagged slightly as the bulging head slipped down her throat, but she didn't withdraw. She forced down a couple of more inches as I became fully hard. I switched holes, using my tongue in her and my finger in her ass. She became frantic in her suction, as if her life depended on it.
Until now, I had never experienced this. Blowjobs, sure, lots of them, some pretty good, but no one had ever been able to completely my erect cock. If I may say so myself, my equipment is a noticeable upgrade from the standard, average issue, in length, width, and head size. Ever since Junior High School and the first fumbling attempts at sex, the so privileged to observe it have been at once fascinated and frightened when they encountered my cock in an excited state. So, now, with my cock completely consumed for the first time ever, I was in absolute 'pig-in-shit' heaven. Bliss. Nirvana. I saw bright lights, heard angels playing harps, talked with Elvis...
When I stopped paying attention to her needs, Sally began gnawing at the base of my cock with her sharp white teeth. It wasn't exactly gentle either, and I began to recount all the things I had said and done up to this point, wondering if I had made a grand miscalculation somewhere along the way. Then I opened my eyes, saw a different set of pearly gates, and remembered I was supposed to be doing something for her, too. The gnawing didn't stop as I resumed my duties, but it did lessen a bit. I think.
I don't know how she timed it. Intuition, perception, maybe she had a link with me, too. But just as I was becoming truly concerned for the survival of that most important of my organs, she slipped a moistened finger up my tightly clenched asshole. I experienced only a slight discomfort from the intrusion. Like most guys, I hadn't had much experience with things up my ass other than my doctor's finger, but I thought I was doing OK with it and was even planning to escalate the situation by increasing the number of fingers up her ass to two. At least, that was my plan until she twisted her tiny little finger around and massaged my prostate.
I shot my load unexpectedly into her throat. It was extremely painful. It so bad I passed out. She told me later that I made a really weird sound, too, when I shot my wad into her greedy mouth. Like someone strangling a saxophone. I didn't appreciate finding her leaning over me, laughing lightly as I regained consciousness.
"Thank you." That's all she said.
My mind raced. For what, her reward? Losing to her? Passing out? Help me, please!
"You're welcome. And thank you, back."
Good. Real good. Meat-head.
"What for?" Apparently it was OK for her to ask.
"Thank you for letting me in, really in."
Score one for the side with penises! We could think fast with both heads! Yep, you betcha!
"Oh." The way she snuggled into my chest seemed to indicate that I had given the right answer. Then the other shoe dropped.
"What's the matter? Didn't you like the sex?"
She held me in suspense, and finally collapsed in a wonderfully ticklish mass of giggles. We were gentler with each other this time, and she allowed me to win, crying 'Uncle' only after I had both her hands pinned to the sofa above her head and still had one hand free to torment her breasts, ribs, stomach, etc. I spent a lot of time at her 'etc.' Even then she held out. I went very slowly to be positive I didn't miss a single nerve. Sometimes I went back to check on a particular area again and again. It was a long slow torture for her until she finally gasped her surrendering 'Uncle." But only after she climaxed several times.
Her shrieks and peals must have woken Janey. Or it may have been the racket we made earlier destroying the family room. Or it could have been all the activity on their 'link.' Regardless, the traumatized teen was awake and wandering the house. She was still groggy from the sedatives the doctor had prescribed for her to help her sleep. The first we knew she was awake was when Sally sensed her in the doorway of the room. In retrospect, seeing your and her boyfriend stark naked, their faces buried in each other's crotches probably wasn't the best thing to see right after being brutally raped. Sally tried to think of something to say, but it's hard to say something socially acceptable and gracious when your mouth has a death grip on 10 inches of pulsing cock. And a very determined is gnawing your hypersensitive clit at the same time. We were performing a classic '69' on the sofa in the middle of the afternoon.
Sally slowly pulled her head up off my groin, exposing my fully hardened length to her for the first time. She focused on her special link with and her own happiness and contentedness penetrated the shell that had begun to harden around Janey, bringing a spark of life back to the battered girl.
"Hi, honey. How are you feeling?"
"OK, I guess, but not as good as you! Geeze, Mom." She surveyed the shambles of the room. "No more parties for you, lady!" She paused as she looked back at us, and then half whispered, "God, is that real?" There was more than a hint of awe in her voice.
I twitched my freestanding shaft on purpose to show her I knew to what she was referring. Reluctantly Sally rolled off my face and sat up. I propped myself up with my elbows, still stretched out on the sofa. Janey couldn't take her eyes off my erection. I couldn't take my eyes off Sally. This was a bear with a wounded cub. No way in Hell was I going to make a misstep here.
Sally looked at me, saw where we were both looking, and shrugged. We weren't going to be able to ease into this. All plans for a gradual phase in were off.
"Janey, honey, we need to talk." She patted the cushion next to her. Janey looked first at me, then at her mother, tearing her eyes away from my cock for a moment. I could see the indecision in the teenager's eyes, the fear and the pain as she remembered what happened the last time that she saw a in my condition. I could also see that the sexual instincts she shared with Sally were being activated. Her tearing, blinking eyes reflected the battle within. I wondered what she was going to do. Was she going to bolt and maybe never be reachable again or was she going to stay? Then, almost imperceptibly, she straightened and I saw that a decision had been reached. She got that funny little grin on her face. Her eyes began to shine a little brighter as her trust in her made the decision for her. She padded toward us, slowly at first, then with more confidence, more like the Janey, and I knew she had made the decision to heal, to become Janey again and not hide from who she was. At that moment I was almost convinced that Sally's plan was the way to go. With this first sign from Janey that what her had said about her was really true, I was beginning to be at ease with what I had been asked to do. There was a long way to go, but Janey was willing to take that journey and now so was I.
The teenager came over and sat between us. She never took her eyes from my crotch.
"Larry proposed to me today."
"Aww, Mom, he does that all the time."
"I know. But this time, I, uh, accepted." I noticed there was no mention that I had had to win a tough bet. I figured discretion was the wiser course and kept quiet. I could brag about it later, if it ever came up.
Mother and daughter, looking enough alike to be twins, went through the obligatory female ritual of squeals and hugs that seems required after such an announcement. I rolled my eyes at Sally, who was looking at me over Janey's shoulder. She made a face and stuck her tongue out at me.
Janey turned to me and hugged me, too, catching me off guard by her sudden move. I was, after all, stark naked and very noticeably aroused. She froze after a momentary hug, her arms still around my neck. I figured she had just figured out what that pointy thing was that was jabbing into her side, just below her tits. I waited for her to wail, cry out, slap me, run from the room, something. I did not expect her to cling tighter to my neck, almost strangling me in the process.
"Ssshhh. It will be OK." I softly cooed to the silky golden hair peeking out of the hooded sweatshirt she was wearing. Her strands of hair tickled my nose. How do they always get it to smell so goddamn sexy? "Everything will be all right. I promise."
I looked up at Sally for help. A fat lot of good that did. She was doubled over, holding her sides, her fist stuffed in her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. Very funny, ha, ha.
"I know that. Just make my happy for now. I need her to be happy."
"I know. She needs to be happy to help you get well. I promise I will do my very best."
I kicked at Sally with my foot, trying to get her to jump in, to say something to help me get out of this before I did something stupid and scared her away before we even got started. My efforts resulted in her rolling on the floor, holding her sides. Tears were streaming down her face and she was making no attempt to keep quiet now. She thought this was hilarious. I plowed on.
"But what about you, can I do anything for you?" Pushing it, I know, but hey, you would, too, with a traumatized teenage lying on top of your very hard and very erect erection. "If you ever need 'anything'..."
She giggled, and then gasped. Apparently that link thing had kicked in with me this time and she understood what 'anything' meant. I felt her hesitate, then "Not right now, Larry. I'm too sore. Even just walking in here hurts. And I'm definitely not ready for that thing, yet." That last word was added with extra meaning. I understood. She was one tough lady. I wasn't going to scare her off. And it would take a Hell of a lot more than an adolescent rapist to knock her out of life, too. She was going to be OK.
"I know, baby. But when you are ready let me know, OK?"
I felt her nod. I changed my tone of voice to what I imagined a scolding father's would be.
"And one more thing, lady; you are one absolutely beautiful girl. If you keep on running around with nothing on but things like that sexy sweat suit that you have on now, throwing your gorgeous, cloth-covered in my face like you are now, I may just have to take you over my lap and spank you. On your beautiful cotton terrycloth padded ass. I mean hard, until it's as as a tomato and you are as hot as a firecracker." I reached down and gave her a playful, very gentle, swat on her padded behind. God, even through what felt like three or four layers of clothing, those rubbery cheeks felt delicious...
She rose up to check if I was joking, her eyes wide in shock. When she saw my shit-eating grin looking up at her, she knew she had been had. She made a face, reached down and wrapped her slender fingers in a fist and hit me as hard as she could in the solar plexus. It took me by surprise and she winded me. First time since Junior High. Damn! I half expected her to stick out her tongue, too.
"Same goes for you, too, stud. All this hot, hard cock meat waving out in the open just might make me do something rash, too." With that, she kissed me lightly on the cheek, bounced up and landed with a knee right where she had just hit me. Damn! She got me twice!
As I lay there gasping for breath, the two women currently in my life, one naked, the other wearing every sweat suit she owned, ran out of the room hand in hand, laughing hysterically at my perplexed expression as I watched my exhausted, tired, and abandoned shaft wilt in the sudden stillness of the empty room.
I was in way over my head.
Chapter 8
On the following Monday I drove Janey to school. Normal attendance at the school had been suspended for almost a week after the attack because of the hoopla and the police and FBI investigation, so she hadn't missed that many classes. Janey had wanted to ride the bus as usual, but Sally was insistent and won this one. It was on my way to my office, and I had several other errands to do that couldn't wait much longer. Everyone knew Sally and Janey from the news, but no one knew me, as I had stayed in the background and out of the cameras. A habit from my job, I guess. As a result, I could pretty much go into town unnoticed.
It was a pretty quiet ride for the most part, which was unusual. Not that Janey was a chatterbox, but we had always been able to talk. It was obvious she was worried about her reception at school, among other things weighing heavily on her mind. Janey had her cheerleading outfit and pom-poms stuffed in a bag on the floor by her feet. She had decided, on her own, to resign from the squad. Sally and I both thought it was a mistake to make this decision so soon, but Sally had been unable to talk her out of it. I thought I would give it a shot.
"Gee. I'm sure going to miss that cheerleading outfit."
She looked at me with a puzzled look, her curiosity piqued, but already suspecting that that extraneous comment was an attempt to get her to change her mind about resigning from the squad. Her guard was up.
"Huh?"
I repeated myself. "I'm going to miss that cheerleading outfit."
No response from the far side of the car. I thought I had better elaborate. Hell, I had started out by saying the first thing that came to mind. I went with it. I can't lie to save a penny, but I can prevaricate with the best of them.
"Well, you see, your and I play this game sometimes when you're not home. We didn't think you'd mind. It was her idea actually. See, she pretends to be a cheerleader, I'm this hot-shit jock. We go to the High School and sneak under the bleachers. Yada yada yada." This was almost too close to the truth of what happened to her, but it was too late to stop by the time I realized where I was going with it.
"She is so hot and God, sooooo sexy in that tight sweater, that short white skirt and those tiny panties. Yup, we sure had some really hot times under there, and in the locker rooms, both the and the girls. And the showers - you get the picture. Oh, yeah, once we did it at center court and almost got caught by the principal. It was great! I tell you, I'm really going to really miss that uniform. Oh, shit, then there was the time in the mud on the 50-yard line. We thought we'd never get that sweater clean again. Bet you couldn't tell, could you?"
"You did it center court? In my outfit? Ewww! Gross!" She pulled her hands off the bag like it was full of dirty underwear. We rode in silence for a while.
"You really think looks sexy in my outfit?" I figured she was thinking about how much alike they looked. If was sexy, she was sexy, too, right?
I didn't say anything in response. I just made an obscene gesture with my mouth, beating the tip of my tongue rapidly up and down between my slightly parted lips like I did on Sally's clit whenever I could. She got the picture, vividly.
"Ooooo, Larry. That's gross. You two are sick."
I laughed, and she stared out the window on her side, ignoring me the rest of the way to the High School. She made me drop her off a block before the school. I dropped her off and watched her safely into the school. Only then did I go to change my clothes before going in to work. It had been an unexpectedly long time since I had had a chance to get a change of clothes. About halfway to my apartment I noticed the bag on the floor, her cheerleading stuff still inside. I did a 'happy, happy, joy, joy' dance in the car seat the rest of the way to my apartment.
I was still grinning like an idiot when I got to my office. There, I gave my boss the option of an extended leave or my resignation, his choice. He surprised me and countered with a home-office package. I hesitated, thinking it would be more work, less pay and that I would still be coming into the office five times a week. When he doubled my salary and my vacation, effective immediately, and made all contact through FAX, phone or e-mail, I agreed. Geeze, twist my arm, why don't you? It was nice to be appreciated, though. I cleared out my desk, set up contact schedules with my secretary, who was now promoted to my personal assistant, and left.
Sally convinced me I should move in with the two of them full time and made room in her closets for my stuff. So my next stop was the manager at my complex. He made noises about 90-day notice, forfeiture of all deposits, and broken leases.
I simply turned his telephone around, punched on the speakerphone and dialed the local cable company. When he heard the receptionist answer, "Hello. This is Cable Com. How may I help you?" he paled and disconnected the call faster that I had thought his fat fingers could move.
I walked out of his office a homeless person, free of all legal obligations. I had had to promise him I wouldn't call the cable company again. For that, he would tear up my contract. I fully intended to keep my promise to him, as I didn't need to call them again. I had already placed a call to them from my apartment before I went into his office. I figured they would be arriving in less than 3 minutes, probably with the police. I hoped they would get there before he had time to rip out all the illegal wiring and the illegal descrambler boxes he had installed. That motherfucker had set up his own little cable company, using a pirated signal, and had charged every single tenant the normal hook-up fees and monthly service, including pay- per-view and premium channels. Being caught red-handed like I hoped he was going to be would mean fines and maybe even some jail time for the fat bastard.
The cavalry arrived just as I was pulling out of the parking lot. Payback is a bitch, isn't it?
Sally survived Janey's first day back at school. It had helped a lot when I handed her the bag with her cheerleading stuff still inside. She looked up at me with a question in her eyes. I simply kissed her smooth forehead.
"Uh, you probably don't want to know exactly what I said to her, but we should probably make sure to get it cleaned real good if you were to ever put it on and sneak into the High School gym with me some night. Have you ever thought about role-playing as a and me as big hot stud? You might want to give it some thought, just in case. Or try to remember the time we rolled around in the mud in the middle of the football field..."
"But we never did that!"
"I know that, and you know that, but Janey doesn't know that. But, well, she might have gotten the impression that we had done something like that. So I figured we might as well, no?" I gave her my best evil grin. "How about right now?"
Her laughter was musical, the first I had heard from her in a long, long time. It felt good to hold her in my arms and see her smiling face looking up into mine. It made me feel like I could conquer the world. I told her about the rest of my day as we unloaded boxes from my car. It all fit in a tiny corner of the garage. Not much to show for 34 years.
Sally was pleased it had worked out for me to work out of the house. She suddenly found she needed me to be there for her at odd times, kind of like a stabilizer. She took me through the house, offering me my pick of rooms to use for my office.
Remembering back to last week and still curious, I suggested the cellar. She hesitated. Instantly sensing something secret about to be dug up, I played innocent and persisted, saying how ideal it would be, how I would be there whenever she needed, but out of sight at the same time. I wouldn't bother her with the phone calls, or the faxes or my music. I suggested maybe just a part of the cellar could be converted into an office. Babbling enthusiastically at this great idea of mine, I grabbed her hand and started towards the cellar door.
She didn't stop me, but she did lag behind. I sort of had to drag her along, actually. I got to the door and with a flourish and a bow said, "Ladies first, madam."
She went down the stairs like a condemned woman. This just got more and more curious.
The harsh light from the single overhead bare bulb revealed nothing out of the ordinary: laundry area, heating and cooling systems, water heater, and storage area. There was nothing down here that should have taken up so much of her time the last five days. She would disappear down here for hours at a time, coming back up without a word of explanation and noticeably subdued.
I looked around the barren space again for something I had missed. Ah-ha! A door! A locked door was discretely hidden behind a storage shelf.
So, that's almost nothing out of the ordinary. I charged on.
"Not much room down here. It's kind of dingy, too. Hey, what's in here?" I went over and tried the door. As I suspected, it was locked. "Hey! It seems to be stuck. Could you give me a little help here, Dearest?" I gave her my most innocent, endearing look.
She dug her hand in the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out an impressive electronic key card. Hell, we didn't have security like this at my office, and they handled bundles of cash! I accepted it with a raised eyebrow. Sally just blushed and looked at her feet.
I slid the key through the reader and pulled on the door handle. The surprisingly heavy door opened silently to reveal - nothing but total blackness. I reached in to find the light switch on the wall and found - nothing. I looked at the walls next the entrance. Nothing. I turned to look at Sally.
Silently she moved to my right and slid the card through a second reader slot in the doorframe. The lights in the mysterious room came on.
I pulled her into my arms before I went in to see what was in this special room. She was turned so that her back was to my chest. I could feel the tension in her. I put my arms around her, under her arms and held my hands together in front of her belt buckle. I stepped back, away from the doorway, pulling her with me.
"I can wait for whatever this is until you're ready."
She let the offer echo against the concrete walls of the utility area for a while, then brought her hands up from her sides and held onto mine. Her grip was tight, like she was afraid of my reaction to what I would see. I'll give her credit, though. In spite of her fears, she stepped forward, pulling me along with her. Together we stepped into the room, into her secret place.
I gazed around the room, turning us in a complete circle before speaking. "I don't think I need this much security for my office, Sally. The guest room at the end of the hallway will be just fine."
I walked out of the room, taking her with me. We almost made it up to the top of the stairs before she jammed on the brakes.
"No." She took a deep breath. "Damn you, you bastard!" She was so mad she hissed when she said that. "Did you know what was in there?"
"Nope. Not a clue. Honestly, not a clue. If I had known, I wouldn't have pushed you just now."
She sighed. "I know. It's just that this is so personal. It's my Achilles' Heel, and I feel like I'm handing it to you gift-wrapped. I've never felt so naked, so vulnerable in my entire life. Do you know what that's like?"
"I can imagine. I can wait until you're ready to let me in there with you. I'm probably more scared of that stuff than you are. You, at least, know what those things are and how to use them. I only recognized a couple of things."
She tilted her head back and gave me a funny look. My admission of ignorance was almost bewildering to her. Seeing that I wasn't going to push her to go back in, or maybe it was my sincere ignorance that helped her make up her mind. Regardless, she took me back down the stairs and into the room, this time with a sure step.
When she had told me earlier of her previous boyfriend, Sally had said she had been addicted to bondage. She had been really addicted. For a rich person, addictions are dangerous things. For the next two hours she led me around the cavernous room, showing me her various collections of gear. Some of it I could figure out. Others had helpful illustrations of how to operate, use or wear the whatchamacallits. Many, no, most of the things down there were things I had never seen or even dreamed of. And they were almost all custom-made. Expensive.
She stayed in my arms throughout the tour, guiding me around from one collection to another. She was quiet, just letting me absorb as much as I could take.
I had done fine, reaction-wise, until the third set of items she took me to. The illustrations for this collection used photos of actual models. The in the vivid color photo was unmistakably Sally. My gasp was very audible in the quiet dungeon.
I couldn't help it. I went both ways. My hands protectively moved up and gently cupped around her breasts and my cock, with its own mind, tried to punch a in my slacks. I couldn't take my eyes off the photo of her, bound and gagged, the leather of taut straps encircling her body, highlighting her hair. The position she was forced into was awkward. It looked painful, the straps obviously tight. I could see the beads of sweat on her chin, the high stiff collar forcing it awkwardly upwards.
There was more, much more. When we were done, I had seen at least five recognizable photos of Sally, each with her in the strictest bondage imaginable. As we left, we locked the door. When it was secured, she handed me the key, pressing it into my hand. This time, we made it all the way back to the kitchen. She poured us some coffee and we sat down at the table, each lost in our own thoughts.
It was quiet for a long time around the table, the coffee beginning to cool.
"I'm going to need some time to work up to your level. I don't know if I..."
Her sob stopped me in mid sentence. The tension flowed out of her as her relief at not being rejected flooded over her. She flew across the table into my arms, spilling the forgotten coffee over the table and onto the floor.
I only said one more thing to her about it.
"Get rid of the stuff that makes you uncomfortable or brings back any bad memories. Keep the things you want, of course, but you and I will build our own collection, together. Also, take down the pictures. You are truly beautiful in them, and in some of them I can begin to see what you like about this. I don't want to share you or this with anyone right now. I want this to grow between us, at our own speed. This will be our joy, our passion. OK?"
Sometimes you get lucky and say the right thing.
She never explained why she had set the room back up after all those years. I never asked. I handed her back the key and motioned for her to take them. She spent several days sorting through the items, and later several large trucks came and went, picking up and delivering huge crates.
I went back down to the cellar after she returned the key. The room was nearly empty, or seemed so, as there was still a considerable amount of stuff in it, some of it new. That surprised me. I studied it all carefully, making mental notes of consistent themes. The photos were still down there, the entire collection this time. They were not displayed, but locked in a new safe. The key was on the top. Inside the safe were literally hundreds of photos. She had sorted them chronologically, and they showed her in all sorts of progressively lurid situations, first singly, then with one, later with multiple partners. She was always bound in some manner, but towards the end only minimally. It was too restrictive for the others. Her bondage was just a teaser, to whet her appetite, to keep her hungry.
It was not hard to pick out Gary in the pictures, especially in the last series. He was the bastard with his hands on an 11 year girl's chest, pinning her back against his groin, forcing her to watch her being sexually humiliated by four and two women. He was the fifth she had mentioned earlier.
I memorized his face. I would never forget it.
Over the next week, I carefully went though the photos, automatically cataloging the people in them in my mind as I had been trained to do so many years before. I forced myself to look at each one. Those people had touched my love in intimate ways. It was somehow personal, even though we hadn't met at the time. When I was finished reviewing them, I locked them away along with the negatives. I kept the early ones of Sally by herself in a separate file. The ones when she was happiest.
I also kept out one other single photo. I took it back with me to my office. It was a simple blowup of just the face of a very brave little girl. Crying. Scared.
Chapter 9
Strangely enough, as exciting as I found the prospect of introducing bondage into our relationship to be, Sally and I didn't start using the cellar right away. She was ready, more than ready, but she understood I was not there yet. There was a large part of it I wasn't comfortable with, not the least of which was the pain involved. I didn't talk about it either, although I spent many long hours down there by myself, thinking, trying to understand what this was all about, what this would do to our relationship, what part I could and would be willing to play. I had several issues to deal with. Until I was ready, I wasn't going to bring it any further into our relationship than it had already intruded.
As time went by, slowly, the three of us settled into a kind of routine. Janey had school, I had work and Sally, and Sally had Janey. Then school ended for the summer and we both had Janey. She just kind of hung around, underfoot.
Neither Sally nor I were prepared for her listlessness. This active, goal-oriented teenager was suddenly mashed potatoes. By the end of the second week of summer break I got fed up with tripping over her, getting no civil response to reasonable questions, and the mindless drivel she was watching - or at least staring at on TV. Something drastic was called for, so I did something impulsive. Well, OK, so I planned it first. The two girls thought it was impulsive, and that's all that counts, right? I quietly made several telephone calls and pulled in some favors. Everything fell neatly into place, as I had hoped - prayed? - it would. Clout is really nice when you have it.
That night at dinner I announced I would be in charge of the entire next day. They could like it or not, tuff shit. I told them they could call their friends and cancel any plans, as I was not taking "No" as an answer from either one of them. I would give them the itinerary, their instructions and their clothing in the morning. That raised at least one eyebrow. Then I left the house. I didn't want to take a chance on either one of them talking me out of it or digging out the surprise. I knew my limits with these two and when it came to giving in and giving up, I was an expert.
On my return with several small packages, Sally hovered about, sniffing for a hint. But no amount of wheedling, and God, could she wheedle, produced the slightest whiff of the next day's events.
The next morning, I got them up early. On each of their beds were three packages, numbered 1, 2, and 3. Sally tore into her boxes like it was Christmas. The first box held a pair of shorts, a half-T, and tennis shoes, with bootie socks, nothing else. The disappointment in her eyes almost made me fess up to the plans for the day. The second sack contained a baseball glove.
Clearly puzzled, and slightly more curious now, she opened the third. A baseball cap and a pennant from a near-by AAA baseball team and a ticket for tonight's game. She grinned at me, lighting the room. It was all the thanks I needed.
She gestured towards the two skimpy pieces of clothing. "Anything else?"
I shook my head, grinning.
Her eyes widened as she eyeballed the slight droop of her against the bottom hem of the shirt.
"I'll have to be careful."
"Please, not on my account!" I said, grinning from ear to ear. I hoped I had estimated it just right. Janey's top was even shorter. Both of them would be very aware of their cock teasing attire the entire day. All I could do was hope for an exciting game and that we didn't run into any drunk or overly aggressive males. I was prepared to deal swiftly should one - or more - get within a grab of either of my girls, especially Janey. That would set her back a lot, but I had always believed that without risk, there is no gain. I applied that philosophy to life as well as my finances.
Sally went in to help Janey get ready, her infectious laughter soon joined by her daughter's gasps and giggles. I heard Janey protest
"But, Mom, I've never dressed like this to go out in public!"
"I know, dear. Me neither. But it's what he wants for today."
"I, uh, we both look like cock teasers!"
"Then I guess we'll just have to play the part he wants us to play. But for today only, clear?"
More giggles followed with some practice tease lines and outrageous blatant poses in front of the mirror in Janey's room. I watched from the doorway as both figured out how high they could move their arms or shrug their shoulders before they exposed themselves to their viewing public. It was going to be impossible to avoid, and they both agreed that if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.
Sally gasped as Janey walked across the room. We all saw her bounce in and out of view just from walking. I guess I got her a bit too short. Sally glared at me in the mirror as I shrugged an "oops" to her. I really hadn't meant it to be that short. She then got a funny look in her eye, pulled out some scissors and trimmed a good two inches off her own shirt. She couldn't even take a deep breath without showing it all.
"There, that's better, don't you think?"
They linked arms, grinning conspiratorially, and announced they were ready to go.
Over the first hurdle, but oh, so many more to go...
I whistled appreciatively at the two goddesses and handed them each a light windbreaker on the way out the door, telling them to hurry as we had to keep to the schedule. Sally checked her ticket for the time of the game. It didn't start until 7:00 that night and the stadium was only 60 miles away. She shrugged and helped me get Janey into the back seat of my car. Neither wanted the cover of the windbreakers, so the light jackets went into the trunk, along with the baseball gloves.
I took the long way around, heading to the next town over from the stadium. There I stopped for breakfast at a health food place I had invested in several years prior. I had warned the folks who ran it I might stop in, with my 'special' guests, and they really put on a show for us.
Janey thought all I ate was artery-clogging processed foods, and when I pulled into this out of the way place, she figured it was a greasy spoon, and said as much. Sally was just as bewildered, but more observant. She saw the high-end autos in the parking lot and the sleekness of the clientele. The high-tech, high-priced exercise facility attached to the restaurant clued her in that this just might be something other than what it appeared.
Janey turned suddenly modest and we could only get her to come in after I had retrieved the light jackets from the trunk. She was still somewhat reticent, but when she suddenly spied a waiter, a 'hunk with buns,' as she described him, she said she would come with us if we could sit at his station. Thank you, God, for raging hormones. I told her I would see what I could do, and in we went.
I think Janey would have eaten lard on pork rinds that morning and not noticed. That poor waiter was run ragged. She had him take back the yogurt, because it wasn't ripe yet. Then the toast because it was too light, then too dark, then too hard, and so on. The water was too warm, there was a microscopic nick in her glass, her place settings didn't match Sally's and mine, then they didn't match the table next to us and it clashed, upsetting her appetite. She almost drooled as she stared at his butt as he walked back to the kitchen, again. And again. And again. I will admit, she was rather inventive and kept him busy running back and forth the whole time we were there.
I was trying to hold a conversation with my partners, the owners, introducing them to Sally. We had to point at Janey during the introductions, as her attention was elsewhere. Several times we were interrupted by raucous laughter from the tables around us. Most of the patrons sitting around us had caught on to what Janey was doing, and were thoroughly enjoying the floorshow. Some even helped out, sending the poor waiter past our table so Janey could get an additional eyeful.
With all the complaints Janey was making, the mangers were worried that things weren't going well and mentioned that the waiter, on his first day, might not make it to his second. Sally reassured them that he was doing just fine, that the problem was much more of her daughter's doing than anything else. I, too, reassured them that, knowing Janey and her determination, there was absolutely nothing the poor kid could do about it. I intended to leave a substantial tip for the poor rookie.
He was coming towards our table, lugging an over-full, ill-stacked tub of dirty dishes, when Janey gave him her own special gratuity. Her windbreaker had fallen open just so, and, as she caught his eye, she winked, slowly raising both her hands to re-adjust the baseball cap on her head. It took her a long time to get it just right. Her 'tips,' framed by the dark windbreaker, riveted him, as well as several lucky tables behind him. Stunned, he dropped the tub, breaking every dish in it with a crash that silenced every conversation in the room.
I watched her flash him from my seat. I had a clear view of what she had done and what he could see. Considering I had only left money, I figured she had given him the better tip. Mine would just about cover the breakage. Hers would last him a lifetime. Unbeknownst to me, Sally slipped him a $50.00 bill and a peck on the cheek on the way out. Who knows what she showed him as she did that? Or where she had the bill stashed?
The next stop was a long ways off. I urged them to use the facilities before we got underway. Both snapped very erotic nipple-flashing salutes with an "Aye, aye, Sir" and marched off to the ladies room. Time passed, and I finally wandered out to the car to wait for them there. I was standing next to my car when an friend and his drove up and we began to talk, catching up on mutual acquaintances from home. I had my back turned to the restaurant and wasn't aware the girls were approaching until I heard,
"Hey, mista. If we show ya our boobies, will ya give us a ride in yer big car? I'll letcha play with mine if I can drive it. Huh? I get my license next year and I need the practice. Whaddya say? Deal? Here, feel hers, too. Hers ain't real, mine are! Feel the difference?"
My friend turned apoplectic as the two temptresses clung to me, one on each arm. As they rubbed their chests up and down my arms they showed my friend and his their goodies. I started to introduce Sally and Janey to them, but something was different about them. It took a minute, then it hit me. They had changed their hair. Both now had twin tails of hair, sprouting out of their heads almost sideways. And the makeup was either gone, or so artfully applied that they looked - both of them - no than 14. 15 max. I didn't think I could introduce a cock-teasing 15-year- old as 'my intended' with a straight face, so I grabbed a handful of ass in each hand and said,
"Sure, kids. Climb in. Say, I think I've got some candy in my pocket. Why don't you reach in and see if you can find it?"
I winked at my friend and his red-faced wife, mouthed 'Let's do lunch,' and hustled the two vixens into my car. They both waved 'Goodbye' enthusiastically, much to the visible delight of the man.
I would have a lot of explaining to do to my friend, the judge, when we got around to that lunch.
Chapter 10
"That nice you two were flashing was Judge Hawthorne, of the State Supreme Court, and his wife. He was a partner in the law firm with my before his appointment to the bench. I, uh, dated their for a long time. Our families are close, or at least they were, until today."
"And you didn't even introduce me! Aren't I your fianc‚? Are you ashamed of me already?"
I stopped the car and pulled off to the side of the road. They had switched seats, with Sally sitting in the back.
"I have never been more proud of you. It's just that, well, their still thinks of me as her property sort of, and they were expecting her to arrive at any moment. Her supports her fully in that fantasy, too, by the way. And you know how it is with mothers and daughters, right?"
"You mean if we had stayed, I could have met a piece of your past?"
"She was never a 'piece' of my past. I was a 'piece' to her, like a trophy or furniture. And no, I never got a 'piece' from her. First she played hard to get, then hard to lose."
"So, that broad didn't look too spry. Whatsa matta, don'cha think we could take 'em?"
"Believe me, I would almost pay money to see you two tangle with those two. WWF would lose rating points that night. Seriously, when you do meet them, and you will, don't turn your back on them if you're near the serving line, too many knives lying around. And always stay close to at least two witnesses."
Janey's eyes were as big as saucers as she followed this conversation. At least she didn't think I was joking.
I made a mental note to schedule a lunch with ol' Thorny for the next week. He'd already gotten a good rise out of this story. I'd just fill in a few blanks, beginning with Janey's attack, to help him smooth it out at home. He understood daughters. He just had no idea how to control his own.
Following breakfast we headed to a much larger city about an hour away, but again it was in the wrong direction from the stadium. Sally and Janey were back to behaving like perfect brats. If not clean, at least it was a lot of fun. Comments about "taking the long way," "are we there yet?," "is this the right road," "is this an away game," 'and "I have to stop and go potty" came out of the passenger and rear seats with increasing frequency the farther we got from the night's destination.
Both quieted down, however, as I pulled into the parking area of a very exclusive section of the city. Both of them knew exactly where we were. It was a shoppers' paradise, a ten-square block area of downtown filled with boutiques and specialty shops. Both had hinted strongly over the last year or so that this was 'the' place they would really like to visit, e.g. to spend my money. What they didn't know was that I had put this whole area together personally, and knew all of the shop owners very well. The owners were not just owners, but skilled craftsmen.
This exclusive area was known as 'The Guild' and that is exactly what it was: A throwback to the times when the guild craftsmen established the acceptable levels of workmanship and art, not Wal-Mart or K-Mart shoppers. It had been hugely successful, even to the point of being frequently and occasionally fairly well imitated in other cities. The waiting list to get into my shops was long and getting longer. The quality of the work done here was becoming world renowned as the standard to meet. The prices of the pieces crafted here were understandably and justifiably exorbitant, and best of all, it made huge returns for my real-estate investment and management company. And me.
I had been awarded a sizable stake in the project based on its success, and I had received additional incentives as I continued to manage it to greater heights - and profits. My share had grown to a small fortune over the last 10 years. It wasn't all paper profit, either. I made sure I got cash flow out of it. Today I was going to start plowing back into the shops a lot of that capital, but if what I had planned worked out, it would be well worth it.
For the next several hours, we wandered up and down the narrow cobblestone streets, apparently just shopping. We were actually on a very organized schedule. Sally began to suspect something after about the third shop I specifically guided them into.
The routine was the same in each shop. As we entered, the artist or shopkeeper would welcome me warmly by name, making the effort to come out and greet me with unrehearsed enthusiasm. The other customers, if any, would be gently, but quickly, ushered out, and a "Private Showing, Please Return in One Hour" sign set in the window. Shades were drawn to curious passersby, and then both would be measured in a manner appropriate to the craft of the artisan. The persons measuring them would always be women, never men, though there were a couple of them I wasn't sure about. Sally made sure Janey was never left alone with those two clerks.
In the boot-maker's shop they had two plaster castings made of their legs and lower torso, one with their toes pointed straight down, the other standing normally. At the dressmaker's shop, a whole body cast was made of each of my girls. Similarly, at the foundation shop, another cast was made, but of only the torso and upper thighs. For each cast, some or usually all of their minimal clothing would be removed, they would be powdered, placed in molds, the quick-dry plaster poured and dried. Afterwards, they would be offered a shower, refreshment, and then efficiently ushered back to the waiting room or back office where I would be talking to the owner.
We were right on schedule as we turned into the third to the last shop on my agenda for the day. These last three stops would be tricky. I pulled Sally to the side.
"I need to speak with Janey for a moment. Will you please cooperate and not have as much fun as you have been having so far today? It is important."
Her eyes danced as she considered her answer. With a nod of her head, she reached up and kissed me on the cheek.
"You're in charge today, remember? All you have to do is ask. I will do whatever you say."
I could hear the devil in her voice. Then she got serious and her voice got tight.
"I do love you, you know. I don't know what you're trying to do, but I am having a hell of a lot more fun than I thought I would. Best ball game I've ever been to. Hint, hint?"
"Oh, we'll get there, all in good time. Now, please send your lovely over here so I can speak with her."
I paused, still holding her close to me.
"I love you, too, Sal, more than life. Cross your fingers that what I have planned works out."
I think that last part shook her a bit. One thing, I only called her 'Sal' when I get dead serious. It was the kind of signal that develops between two people when they get close. My signal told her I was scared and on unfamiliar ground. I wasn't at all sure of the rules of this game or of their reactions. I hoped beyond hope I had not miscalculated the day's events or the roles I had them playing.
It was a game, we all knew it. I knew Sally was having fun. Hell, she needed the stress relief almost more than Janey. Still, she was over-playing it just a bit. I hoped she would tone it down, or I would be molesting them both inside the hour. I'm not made of stone, and while Sally wouldn't have minded, it would have defeated the whole point with Janey.
Sally brought Janey over to me in front of a men's clothing storefront. The girl's bouncing step told me Sally had not said anything to dampen her daughter's behavior. Her nipples peeked up at me, flashing in and out of cover as she came to a stop before me. God, how much longer... Sally started to move away.
"No, Sally, you can stay and listen, if you want. I won't be giving away any secrets."
I grinned at her, and she made an impish face back, getting back into her role for the day. Good.
"Janey, I need you to be serious for a moment and listen carefully. We have had a lot of fun today, and there is more to come, I promise, regardless of what happens now. I know I said I was in charge today, and you and your have given me more credit for being responsible than I deserve. But I can't make the next two choices for you. I'm sorry to have to do this today, in the middle of the fun, but I couldn't avoid it."
I paused, and not for effect. This was touchy ground. Well, best said straight out, right?
"The next two stores have to do with blatantly sexual items..."
Sally's eyes widened. We were standing across the street from a Tack Shop. Her grin made my heart stop, then take off like a rocket. She had just figured out what all the fittings were for in the shops prior to this one. She was pleased. Boy, would I get lucky tonight! When I continued, her expression changed from adoration to mortification.
"...that your and I may make use of in the future. I can't ask you to come in, and I can't make you stay out. If you come in with us, you will be measured, probably by a man, same as your Mom. If you stay outside, I have arranged for you to be some place safe while your and I are inside. The measurements will be extremely personal and a bit uncomfortable. Do you understand? Do you have any questions?"
She was thoughtful for a moment. Like her mom, her ditzy act was just that. She was fully aware of what she was doing.
"If I go in, does it commit me to do anything in the future?"
"No. I would never force you to do anything you don't want to. That's why I'm asking you this."
"If I stay out here, can I still play the ditzy babe?"
"Actually, I have arranged for you to tour the nun's cloister, just around the corner. Only women are allowed in. I don't think it would be appropriate for you to behave in an unseemly way. Do you?
"Nah. What's the next store? Can I skip this one and go to the next. I'm not really into horses and that bestiality crap. That's more her thing."
Sally just about choked on her wad of gum at that. Apparently, they were after each other's goats as well as mine.
"Sorry, it's a take both or leave both offer."
"Do you want me to go in?"
This last was said in a small voice, while desperately searching my eyes for an answer. I leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. She hated that. Now, there was no shrinking away from my lips as I spoke so low only she could here.
"Janey, I only want you to be happy..."
I looked across at Sally, who was waiting intently for Janey's decision. She knew it was one she could not help her with.
"...just like I want your to be happy."
Janey looked at her mother, and I guess they linked or something. They both held out their hands to me and we went in to the Tack Shop together. Me and two very excited cock-teasing nymphettes.
They settled down quickly once we entered the store. I swear Sally had an orgasm from just the aroma of leather that swept over us as we went through the display area. She stopped stock still, then moved as if in a dream over to a display of a riding saddle and some bridles. Equestrian, not human. She let the sensuous leather of the saddle brush across the exposed lower sides of her as she rubbed them back and forth. Her hands first touched and then wound themselves around in the soft caresses of the bridles hanging down from the high ceiling. She was lost in another world.
Janey watched her then turned to look at me with death in her eyes. She had seen this before, had gone through this with her once before. It had not been particularly pleasant for her, either. I could understand her rage.
"I am not Gary. I will not her or expose her to shame. I promise you that, Janey."
I could not say anything else. I think she sensed my hesitation with this bondage stuff that I was being pulled into it by her mother's tremendous needs and desires, not the other way around. She also sensed her mother's intense need. And I think she was also a bit curious about what attracted her into it. She was, after all, her mother's daughter.
The fire receded, leaving a bright twinkle. We understood each other. Kind of.
The owner, a rather in his twenties, came over and greeted me, as had the other shopkeepers. As there were no other customers, he simply locked the door and lowered the "Closed" sign. Turning, he held up two fingers with a questioning look.
I nodded.
He looked at Janey and blushed deeply. I hoped he could get through this with his dignity intact. I had warned him of her beauty, both their beauty, but he was younger, closer to Janey's age. To him, she wasn't as far off limits.
Due to the types of measurements he would need to make, he could not use a clerk. The person had to know the craft. He didn't have a clerk experienced enough, anyway. His only helper, an apprentice of less that 3 months, was even younger than Amud. The apprentice had been given a sudden, unexpected rare day off. The shopkeeper went silently to the back office and opened the door. He signaled to someone inside.
I stiffened immediately. The arrangements had been for absolutely no one else. This was private.
A diminutive figure walked into the showroom. The owner's eyes were beaming with pride. As the short figure came closer, I saw it was a woman, about his age.
"Mr. Sampson. I would like to introduce you my wife, Bala. If is acceptable, she will be the measurements making. She, uh, understands the things you will need, and has suggestions maybe, if it pleases you to hear of them. I apologizes it to you, but I will need it to observe to make sure taping is done correctly and to interpret. She does not speak the good English."
He waited for my consent. Interesting. He had solved his and my problems at the same time. I nodded in agreement.
_
|
|