The Making of a Gigolo (10)- Elizabeth Sinderson

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Chapter Two

The latter part of June came with unseasonable heat and humidity, because of rains that threatened to ruin the wheat farmers' harvest, but didn't quite.

Business was brisk at the country club pool, where the "elite" of Granger gathered. As a watering hole, it was well stocked, and the pool was shaded on one side by old trees that had been saved when the pool was installed.

Elizabeth Sinderson, just having turned twenty-five, and married now for two years to Jeff Sinderson, owner and operator of the Sinclair gas and service station on Jefferson street, lay on her chaise lounge in the sultry heat. She was wearing a bikini that her husband had bought her, and insisted she wear whenever they were at the country club pool. Jeff was thirty-seven, divorced once, and now remarried to his pretty young wife, of whom he was inordinately proud. She had come into the station for gas one day, two years ago, wearing a nice summer dress that showed a lot of her gorgeous legs. She'd parked at the full service pump instead of the self serve island. Jeff had gone out to take care of her, since his other employees were busy making him money, working on cars.

Standing there, looking down the front of her dress, and at those legs, Jeff had gotten a boner. The sweet young thing hadn't seemed to notice.

The fact was that Elizabeth had noticed, both his wandering eyes, and that boner. She had just broken up with her boyfriend, and was on her way to a wedding, which made her feel a little sorry for herself. On the rebound, she had enjoyed being ogled, and had gone back four times in the next week. She'd had to drive around endlessly, just so she needed gas for one of those times. Twice, she was "worried about a tire". The fourth time, when she complained of a "rattle" under the hood, he had finally suggested that maybe, after work, he could take a look at her car ... "You know ... kind of give her the once over ... to make sure everything is okay."

That had taken an hour and a half, which had involved him mostly standing by her car, and talking to her. When he was finished with the car, he had suggested coffee. She had countered with dinner. Two weeks later, she was straining under him as his penis soothed her emptiness. Two months after that, they were married.

She loved him, or at least she thought she loved him. She wasn't at all sure she knew what love felt like. He was a good provider, and a nice guy, even if he was older than her. The sex was good, or at least she thought the sex was good. She'd only had one other lover to compare him to, and both of them were pretty much the same ... "quick out of the gate, but without much wind," as her grandfather would have said. He'd raised horses all his life.

She'd been able to quit her job, which was a great thing, from her perspective, and her car had never run better. All in all, things seemed pretty okay to Elizabeth Sinderson. There was only one tiny glitch in what she thought of as her happy life, or what she believed was her happy life.

That little glitch was something she had known about when she married him. He had even told her. It was what had caused his previous wife to take off and leave him with the house, two cars, and all the furniture. She had been quite sure that it wouldn't be a problem for her, though.

Jeff had been proud of his first wife too. He'd loved nothing more than walking beside her, while other men lusted after her. He had bought her slinky clothes too, like the bikini Liz was wearing right now ... a wispy thing that covered her, but left little to the imagination. He had paraded his first wife in front of his friends, and even strangers, taking her to other towns, where she was encouraged to accept the dance offers of strangers.

One of those strangers had taken her away from him.

He was quite honest about it, when they were courting. He admitted to Liz that he'd made horrible mistakes. At the same time, he'd admitted that he couldn't get that little kink out of his psyche. He'd promised her that he wouldn't ask her to do things like that, and he'd tried, very hard, not to. She knew that. But she also knew that, whenever they were out, and men looked her up and down, and undressed her in their minds, like lots of men seemed all too eager to do, Jeff's lovemaking, when they got home, was more ardent by far, than when they just had a quiet evening out.

That's why she wore the bikini at the country club. She wore it for Jeff, even though he was usually watching the men, to see if they were looking at her. He was doing that right now, sitting at a table with his friends, smoking cigars, and drinking brandy.

She rolled her head toward her friend, Miranda Tibbs, who was a year younger than she was. They had gone to school together, been separated, and then re-united at the club, all these years later.

"They're watching us again," she said, reaching for her iced tea.

"Of course they are," said Miranda. "We're gorgeous."

Liz laughed. "You like it, don't you?"

"Don't you?"

"I guess so," said Liz. "It just isn't what I thought married life would be like. Before I got married, I would have worn something like this to catch a man. It just feels odd, somehow, to be wearing it now."

"Why do you wear it, then?" asked Miranda, who was in a one piece suit that clung to her like a second skin.

"Jeff likes it," said Liz.

"My husband would kill me if I wore something like that," said Miranda. "He made me put extra cloth in the bra of this suit, so my nipples wouldn't show."

"Jeff's not like that," said Liz. "He likes it when men look at me. It excites him."

"You're a lucky girl," said her friend. "Dick would be so jealous he'd pop a vein or something."

"Dick is one of the men looking at us," said Liz.

"He's a horny old goat," said Miranda, about her twenty-seven-year-old husband.

"Well," said Liz. "So is Jeff, but he's a lot hornier if men have been looking at me."

"That must be fun for you," said Miranda.

"It's just weird, that's all," said Liz. "You're my friend ... right?"

"Of course," said Miranda, leaning forward. That kind of comment usually led to something interesting, and she was ... interested.

"I mean, if I told you something ... about Jeff and me ... it wouldn't go any farther ... right?"

"I'm hurt that you'd even think it could," said Miranda, really interested now.

"Jeff likes more than just having men look at me," said Liz, tentatively.

"You mean he wants men to ... do things ... to you?"

"He would," said Liz. "I mean I've never done that, except to dance with a stranger, now and then, or something like that. It makes him crazy in bed when I do, though. But that's why Sally left him. She had an affair with some guy, because Jeff wanted her to, but then she decided she liked that guy more than Jeff."

"Wow," said Miranda.

"And I don't want to have an affair anyway, but he fantasizes about it a lot. He hasn't asked me to do anything - I think he's scared the same thing will happen with me as happened with Sally - but I know it excites him. Isn't that weird?"

"Yes," said Miranda immediately, followed by, "but it makes me hot too, to think about it. I mean, getting to be frisky with some hot stud would be fun, if it didn't go too far, you know?"

"I don't know about that, but I know that if something like that happened, he'd just be insane in bed. And I like that idea just fine!"

"What you need to do is find you some guy who will pay some attention to you, but who you can pull the plug on if things go too far," said Miranda. "Wouldn't that be wonderful? To have a boy toy to play with ... just a little ... and get your husband going?"

"As if men like that exist," laughed Liz.

"I don't know," said Miranda, drawing out the "ow" and making it sound like "ohhhh". She leaned closer to Liz. "There are rumors, you know ... like about Felicity Chumley?"

"Of course there are rumors about Felicity Chumley," said Liz. "Her husband is eighty-something and she just had a baby!"

"Well, I think I know who might have done that," whispered Miranda. "I think it's somebody I know ... and that you know too!" She sounded excited.

"Who!?" gasped Liz. She was just as addicted to gossip as anybody else.

"Remember in school, that dreamy Bobby guy? He sort of kept to himself a lot ... had all those sisters?"

"Bobby Dalton?" asked Liz. "No way! He was so shy that one time, when I asked him a question, he almost ran off."

"What question did you ask him?" giggled Miranda. "How big is it?"

Liz reached out to slap at her friend's arm.

"Of course not. It was something about when an assembly was, or something like that. He just looked at me and told me the time and then was off like a shot." Liz frowned. "It couldn't be him. What makes you think it is?"

"I keep hearing his name. He's a handyman, you know. He's been in practically everybody's house in town. He can fix anything, apparently. But it's how his name is said that made my ears prick up." Miranda frowned too. "I've asked several women about him, but they clam up."

"Miranda!" chided Liz. "Don't tell me you're looking to have an affair!"

"Of course not," said Miranda. "Dick is all the man I need. Still ..." she seemed to be thinking. "It's always fun to have a man pant after you."

"I can't imagine Bobby Dalton panting after anybody," said Liz. "He was like a scared rabbit."

"Well, think about it," said Miranda. "You were the head cheerleader, only the most popular girl in school. Every guy in the place probably fantasized about you when they went home, hid in a closet and beat off."

Liz flushed. "You're horrible!" she hissed.

"Hey, I'm just saying," said Miranda. "I was jealous as hell of you, back then. Still am sometimes, for that matter."

"You're my best friend!" said Liz, almost sitting up.

"That I am, Lizzy," said Miranda, rubbing sun tanning lotion on her arms and neck. "But that doesn't mean I don't admit to the facts. Every man around here is staring this way, and I don't think it's to try to see the nipples that Dick is so hot to have me keep hidden."

That night, Liz crawled into bed with her husband.

"Did you have fun seeing all those men ogling me at the pool?" she asked, sliding her hand across his chest.

"It was hot," he sighed. "I'm so lucky to have you. I'm hornier than a three antlered moose right now."

"Well do something about it, then," she said.

"I can't," he moaned. "I used the last condom, and forgot to get more. Couldn't you please just go on the pill or something?"

"Honey," she crooned in his ear. "You know they make me retain water. I look all puffy and fat when I take them. Then nobody would want to look at me."

"We could have a baby," he said, hopefully.

"And ruin this perfect figure?" she asked, pulling her hand back to her naked breast and cupping it. "You want these to get all swollen and full of milk, and make me look like a cow?"

"You'd look so good pregnant," he sighed.

"With my stomach out to here?" she squealed, holding her hand a foot away from her flat abdomen.

"Yeah," he sighed, "and with your breasts full of milk. Man! That would be so fine!"

"Well," she said, "we can talk about that later. Right now you can put your nasty old naked cock in me, and make me feel good, but you have to pull out and shoot it on my stomach, okay?"

"Ohhhh baby," he groaned, as he rolled over and got into position.

It was good for both of them. This was only the second time since they got married that he was in her without protection, and they both felt the difference. Both liked it a lot, but he honored her demand, and when the time came, he pulled out and jacked off on her belly button.

The only problem was that she'd been just about to have an orgasm when he did that, and, when the sensations in her pussy stopped, she was disappointed. She liked the feel of his warm spend on her stomach, and she rubbed it all over her, but she also had to slide a hand down and finish what he had left unfinished. She was careful not to slide a spermy finger into her pussy, but she was able to flick her clitty and have that orgasm.

As usual, he rolled over and fell asleep almost immediately and, as usual, she lay and stared at the ceiling in the dark. Sex didn't make her sleepy. If anything, it woke her up. She got up, went to the guest bathroom and ran the water until it was warm. Then, using a wash cloth, she cleaned up.

She had to sit on the toilet and rub off again, before she felt satisfied.

Then she went to the living room, still naked, closed the drapes, turned on the lamp on an end table, and picked up the book she was currently reading. She read four chapters before she felt sleepy and rejoined her husband. She would have read more, but she kept thinking about what Miranda had said about Felicity and Bobby Dalton. There hadn't been a divorce, and that had caused almost as much gossip as the fact that she had gotten pregnant in the first place. Something must have gone on there. Maybe it was like what Jeff liked. Maybe Chester Chumley, since he probably couldn't do anything himself, had gotten excited when Felicity was ... paid attention to ... by another man.

She couldn't just go up to Bobby Dalton and ask him if he'd do something like that. How in the world could she even broach the subject?

And Bobby Dalton wasn't the only reason she couldn't pay attention to the words on the pages of the book she was trying to read. Jeff was going to have a birthday in two weeks. She'd always had trouble trying to figure out what to get him for his birthdays. He had enough ties and cologne and tools. He didn't wear much jewelry. She'd never had to choose presents for a husband. Christmas was hard enough, but his birthdays were the worst. Well, to be honest, anniversaries were just as bad. Their third wedding anniversary was also coming up, though it was still two months away.
It was purely by chance that Elizabeth Sinderson ran into Felicity Chumley at the grocery store. Normally, Felicity's maid, Annie, did the shopping, because she worked with Ramona in the kitchen. But Annie was taking care of the babies, Charles and Felicity (sometimes called Felicity Jr.). They took turns being nannies, and Felicity had begun doing some of the work that Annie usually did, when Annie was taking care of the children. She had decided not to hire a full time nanny, for the simple reason that she and Annie liked taking care of their babies themselves.

Felicity saw Liz, whom she knew from the country club, and said, "Liz!! Hi!."

Liz, who had been thinking about Felicity, and Bobby, just stared.

"Is anything wrong?" asked Felicity, seeing the woman looking almost ill.

"No," said Liz. "Could I ask you a question?"

"Of course," said Felicity.

"Never mind. I can't, really," said Liz, as she blushed brighter. "It would be rude."

"Maybe I could be the judge of that," said Felicity.

"Do you have time for coffee?" asked Liz.

"That wasn't rude at all," said Felicity, smiling.

"I didn't mean ... that wasn't the question ..." stammered Liz.

"And you want to ask me the question over coffee?" asked Felicity.

"If you have time," said Liz, feeling foolish.

"Well, as long as the cold things don't sit too long in the car, I guess I could take time for coffee," said Felicity.

They finished shopping and Liz followed Felicity to the Wagonwheel. Once installed in a booth, Felicity looked expectantly at Liz.

"I'm not trying to pry," said Liz, trying to find a way to broach the subject. "But I have this problem ... sort of ... and you might know the man who could ... help me."

"I'm listening," said Felicity.

"I'm really not trying to pry," said Liz. "Please believe that. I need to know if you know anybody who might ... um ... well ... be available for ... something like a date."

"Something like a date," Felicity repeated.

Felicity's face had closed down. More than one woman, and a couple of men, had beaten around the bush, trying to find out who Charles' father was. They had no need to know that, and she knew they were just curious gossips. She had never told anyone who lived in Granger. She'd been nervous about telling Amanda Griggs about him, but that had worked out well, according to Bobby.

But this woman didn't seem to be digging for that reason. She was looking for a man.

"You're married," said Felicity. Her voice was flat, with no emotion in it at all.

"You are too," said Elizabeth. "I can't explain what I need ... not to you ... and I'm not asking you to tell me anything about you. It's just that I can't just go out and pick up a man ... not for what I need. Her eyes jittered in their sockets, unable to fix on anything for a few seconds, and her face twisted. "This is so embarrassing," she moaned.

"Look," said Felicity. "What you're asking for is something that a lot of people would like to know. I'm not interested in sharing that part of my life with ... people. It was a private decision, and isn't anybody's business but mine and Chester's." She winced. That gave away the fact that Chester had been involved. She wished she'd just gotten up and walked away. But something in Liz's face told her that Liz wasn't just after gossip.

"Please," said Liz. "I'll tell you something I don't want anybody else to know. I don't know if you'll understand, but I don't know what else to do. I want to do something special for Jeff, and it has to be soon, because it's for his birthday. But ... well ... it's ... unusual. The only reason I'm asking you is because you did something unusual too."

"You want to have an affair?" asked Felicity. She winced at that too. That was almost an admission that she'd had an affair. She didn't think about it that way at all, but that's how most people would view it.

"Not an affair, really. I don't want that much. But ..." she looked around, and lowered her voice. "Jeff gets excited when another man looks at me or ... touches me." She paled. "All I've ever done is dance with other men, in bars, but I don't really like that. It's kind of scary. So I thought maybe I could find a man to do some things ... at our house ... for Jeff. But I can't just pick up a stranger. It would have to be somebody I can trust." She looked down. "This is so embarrassing!"

Felicity was intrigued. The woman had to be telling the truth. To say something like that about one's husband, if it wasn't true, was almost like asking for trouble. Felicity understood precisely how dangerous Liz's admission was. If it was made to the wrong person, rumors would run rampant. That she had trusted Felicity was something both interesting and important, at least to Felicity.

"What you're saying is that you want to hire a man who will do what he's told, and stop when he's told to stop." There it was. She had put it on the table, and it could never be taken back.

"Hire?" Liz looked shocked.

Felicity wondered if she'd just made a terrible mistake. While she had originally hired Bobby, what had happened had far exceeded the original negotiations of that deal. And, while her husband had paid him for what had then happened, it had been a gesture of thanks, rather than a business deal.

"If you want specific things," said Felicity, "It is best to have them provided under a contract, of sorts. There is more control, and less room for error." She sipped her coffee. "Say, for instance, that you have this imaginary man come to your house, and you're ready for him to leave. A man who was there for his own purposes might be reluctant to go. A man you have hired to provide certain services would simply leave, because his job was finished."

"Oh," squeaked Liz. "But ... that sounds so ... I don't know ... cold? Emotionless?"

"That would depend on the man," said Felicity. "Let's just say that a little birdie told me that such a thing can work out to everyone's satisfaction, and it isn't emotionless at all. It has to be the right man, though."

"Oh," said Liz, relaxing a little. "Would your little birdie be willing to suggest who the right man is?"

"You're asking for a significant, and very important piece of personal information," said Felicity. "I can't help but be a little nervous about that. I have to live in this town, and people talk about me enough as it is."

"You think I want to admit to the public that I needed to hire a man ... to make my own husband happy?" asked Liz, her voice barely audible. "You could ruin both our lives with what you already know!"

"I guess you're right," said Felicity. "Okay. But I have to talk to him first. I can't just give out his name without talking to him first."

"I guess he could get in trouble too," said Liz. "I mean it's kind of like ... prostitution, isn't it?"

"It's nothing like prostitution," said Felicity her voice tight. "It would take me literally hours to explain that, but I can tell you it is nothing like what you're thinking about."

"Actually, that makes me feel a little better," said Liz. "Will you talk to him?"

"I'll do that," said Felicity.

"What should I do?" asked Liz.

"Nothing. Just wait. Either I'll call you, or he will. And don't worry if he calls. If I know him, and he decides to talk to you, that's all that will happen at first. You'll see him and talk to him for hours before anything physical happens. He may talk to you, and decide that what you want is not a good idea. You have to understand that. I'm not making any promises of any kind here."

"But ... if I hire him ... Liz seemed confused.

"Just wait," said Felicity. "I can't explain it to you, but you'll understand, if he decides to ... negotiate. That's all I can tell you. It's not like hiring somebody to wash your car. It's much more complicated than that. But that's what makes it so much better too. Believe me. If he agrees to work with you, you'll never be sorry."

"You've never been sorry?" asked Liz.

Felicity knew what she was talking about. Everybody thought little Charles was an accident ... a mistake ... something that caused her to get "caught" in an affair by her elderly husband.

"I've never been sorry about anything this man did for me," she said firmly.

They got up to leave, and Felicity dropped a five dollar bill by the cash register.

"Thank you," said Liz.

"It was just coffee," said Felicity.

"No, I mean for listening to me ... for being willing to help me. I was afraid you'd think I'm some kind of slut or that Jeff is some kind of pervert, or something."

"A year ago, I might have thought all those things," said Felicity. "That's another thing you need to know about this man ... if he works with you. Your life will likely change. He has a way of seeing things, understanding what people need, and changing things."

"I love my husband," said Liz. "I wouldn't be doing this, except for him."

"You'll still love your husband," said Felicity. "In fact, you might even end up loving him more."

"I only have two weeks," said Liz.

"Oh, I'll call you tomorrow at the latest," said Felicity.

The reason Felicity knew she'd call Liz the next day, was because she was already going to see Bobby that night. Since the babies had been born, Chester's attitude about what they did with Bobby had changed again. Somehow, his permission for them to continue seeing Bobby had not been withdrawn. She and Annie had cut back seeing Bobby only at specific times of each month. That was simply because, while they loved their babies, and they loved the father of those babies, they weren't quite ready to get pregnant again. Bobby did not use birth control. Both women were breast feeding, and that was thought to give some protection from pregnancy, but it was better to plan when they would be exposed to the sperm that had already impregnated them once.

Tonight was Felicity's first time with Bobby this month, and she was looking forward to it. They would talk between times, and she would talk to him about Liz then.

Felicity lay on her side, her naked body molded to Bobby, who was facing her.

"I like it when you're rough with me sometimes," she sighed. He had been rough with her ... this first time. She knew he'd be tender, later on. He was already being tender, giving her sweet, gentle kisses.

He leaned forward to lick and suck at one of her leaking nipples.

"I love your milk," he said.

"I'm trying to wean Charles," she said, pulling his head to her breast. "I'll never get my breasts to stop producing, though, if you keep making them produce more milk."

"Are you cutting me off?" he asked, trying to sound like he was pouting.

"No," she said, moving his mouth to her other nipple. "I'm asking you to cooperate with me."

"I bet Chester's not cooperating with you," he said, licking drops of milk off her nipple.

"No, he's not," said Felicity. "If he had his way, I'd produce milk for years."

"Smart man," said Bobby. "You ready to go again?"

"Yes," she said, "but I want to talk to you first."

"What about?" he asked.

"Another woman," she said.

"Well, well, well," he said, grinning. "And here I thought you were jealous of Amanda."

"I don't own you," she said.

"Why are you always so wild when I mention one of the other women?" he asked, grinning wider.

"Okay, so I'm a little jealous of them. There. Are you happy now? Why do men have to be that way?"

"I just want to keep you interested. You're one of my favorites."

She pushed him away from her.

"You keep talking like that and I may wean you too!"

"I give up!" he said, in mock terror. "Tell me about this other woman."

"Her name is Elizabeth Sinderson," said Felicity.

"I know her," said Bobby. "I went to school with her."

"Apparently, her husband gets his kicks from seeing her rub up against other men."

"She just wants me to rub up against her?" asked Bobby.

"That's what she made it sound like," said Felicity. "She wants to give ... something ... to him for his birthday. She was pretty embarrassed about telling me."

"Wow," said Bobby. "I've heard of stuff like that, but I never thought I'd see it in Granger." He thought for a minute. "Why did she talk to you about it?"

"I think that she assumed that whoever got me pregnant might be willing to do something with her too. It's hard to describe her behavior. She was nervous, embarrassed and excited all at the same time. She said something about not wanting to just troll for a man in a bar."

"Did you tell her who I was?" he asked.

"Of course not," she said. "I told her I'd talk to you. I also told her there were no guarantees that you'd do anything."

"Is she trustworthy?" asked Bobby.

"She's not in any position for word of her husband's little secret to get out," said Felicity. "I told her she'd have to hire you."

"You know I'm not in this for money," said Bobby.

"Yeah, but it makes us women feel so much more in control when we're dealing with an employee, rather than a handsome stud."

"You think you were in control?" He grinned.

"I did then," she said, pulling him to her. "And I am right now. I want to be on top this time."

"Yes, boss lady," said Bobby, rolling to his back. "Whatever you say, boss lady."

Rather than yell at him, she acted the part, telling him what to do, and what not to do, as she had two more orgasms on top of him. Her bossing resulted in him saying, "I quit!" eventually. Then he rolled her over and gave her two more orgasms, the way he wanted to, before spurting in her again.

As she drifted to sleep, in his arms, she couldn't get over how much she loved the hot, heavy feel of this man's sperm in her belly.

It was eight in the morning when Elizabeth, never willing to get up early, was dragged from bed by the phone ringing insistently. Jeff was already at work.

"What!?" she groused into the phone.

"Liz? Felicity Chumley, here," said a female voice into Liz's ear. Liz perked up instantly.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm not a morning person."

"I could call back later," said Felicity.

"No, of course not," said Liz, full of nervous anticipation now. "I should learn to be civil in the morning anyway."

"What do you have in the house that's broken?" asked Felicity.

"I don't understand," replied Liz.

"Something in your house is broken, or doesn't work correctly," said Felicity. "It happens to everybody. What's wrong at your house?"

Liz was having trouble thinking, and this wasn't fitting her expectations. The first thing that came to mind was the handle of the door on the china cabinet. That had fallen off a year ago, and was still lying on the shelf next to the good plates.

"The handle fell off my hutch," she said. "Is that the kind of thing you're talking about?"

"Perfect," said Felicity. "I know the best man in town to address your ... problems."

"I'm very awake now," said Liz, realizing at last what was going on. "And I want my china hutch fixed by the best man in town."

"Here's his number," said Felicity, who said the numbers twice. "His name is Bobby Dalton. I believe you two went to school together."

"Bobby Dalton?!" yipped Liz. "That's what Miranda thought too!"

"What are you talking about?" came Felicity's heavy voice.

"I talked to Miranda - she's my best friend - about all this before I talked to you. She seemed to think Bobby might have ... I mean that you might know him," she finished, embarrassed.

"Please tell your friend that it wouldn't do either you or me any good if such rumors were to circulate. He's a good man, Liz. You'll understand after you talk to him. Don't make the mistake of having preconceived notions about what he's like. I did that, and it was very uncomfortable for me. It caused problems that didn't need to be caused."

"I'll tell her," said Liz, immediately.

"Please do, said Felicity. "His name, my name, and your name don't need to be dragged through the mud."

"No!" yipped Elizabeth. "Of course not!"

"If you can think of other things you need repaired too, you might as well. He'll probably find them anyway, and he charges by the hour, with a one hour minimum, so you may as well get your money's worth.

"He charges by the hour?" gasped Liz.

"He's a repairman," said Felicity. "And he's a good one too. If you have him tied up ... for whatever reason ... he's going to charge you for his time."

"Okay," said Liz, trying to figure out if there were any hidden messages in what Felicity had just said. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," said Felicity. "I hope referring you to him wasn't a mistake. I like him, Liz. Like I said, he's a good man, and he does not deserve trouble."

"It isn't a mistake!" said Liz. "I promise."

"We'll see," said Felicity. "Perhaps I'll call you later, to see how things went."

"That would be great," said Liz. She heard the click that told her Felicity had hung up.

Liz stared at the name and number on the paper. Bobby Dalton! Poor, shy, scared-like-a-rabbit Bobby Dalton. She could hardly believe it.

Still, that was even better.

She was quite sure she could control Bobby Dalton.

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