The Party Favor

by Lubrican

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

Chapter Seven

She nuzzled his shoulder, just outside his armpit.

"Again!" she demanded.

"I'm a dancer, woman, not a satyr!" he groaned.

"Again!" She repeated her demand as if he hadn't spoken.

"Third time is not a charm when it comes to making love," he said. "I haven't done this in a long time. I'm out of practice ... rusty."

"You're not rusty. You drove me almost crazy," she said, licking his shoulder.

"You're easy to drive almost crazy," he said. "You've been neglected for a long time. But like a man dying of thirst can kill himself when he finds water, you need to pace yourself."

"I am such a slut," she moaned.

"You're anything but a slut," he said, squeezing her.

"I'm a slut for you," she moaned again.

"That's just extremely good taste. That's all that is," he said.


The last time she'd started that up, after their first frantic coupling, he'd ordered her to suck him, thinking she'd object to her own fluids on him, and decide it was time for that shower. She hadn't. She'd eagerly sucked him hard and then flopped, eager to have him impale her again. Her mantra of "Hurry ... hurry ... hurry" had made him too excited, and he'd only lasted half an hour before he groaned and flushed her full again. The second time, she'd put her lips next to his ear and hissed "Yesssssss," as he ejaculated. It had almost driven him mad.

In those seconds, he knew he had to have this woman forever. He was ready to quit dancing, if that's what she wanted. Anything short of murder or some equally egregious felonious behavior, he would do gladly, if she would only choose him over all other men.

Now he was rethinking that. She might actually kill him with her demands.

"Make you a deal," he said.

"The only kind of deal I want is you in me," she pouted.

"Let's take a shower ... get something to eat ... rest just a little while ... and I promise I can go for an hour after that."

"In whose dream?" she scoffed. "Men don't go for an hour."

"I can." He waited, and then thought to add something to that. "If I'm given time to prepare first."

"You're going to put on a condom," she said.

"Never in a million years would I put something between you and me," he said. "Unless you demand it be done some other way, I'll always love you bareback, and I'll always cum inside you."

"What about after I have your sixth ... or seventh ... or eighth child?" she asked gleefully.

"Then I'll get a second job," he said.

The shower didn't help. It only inflamed her more, because they took it together. His hands sliding over her body made her writhe, and his muscles under her soapy hands made her sob with need.

He took pity on her by carrying her back to the bedroom still soaking wet, and sucking her clit through four orgasms in a row. Then he alternated kissing her lips, and sucking her nipples while he searched for her G-spot with his hooked finger, while she shuddered through three more. Finally she was too weak to actively seek more, and he left her to rest while he prepared something for them to eat.

She stayed all night and, since he didn't have to go to work until seven the next evening, she stayed all day the next day too. She stayed naked and teased him so much that he finally began to ignore her. She pouted, but it didn't do any good. When he was capable of making love to her, he did. At other times he read a book, or played a computer game. Once, he spanked her, but found out to both his and her surprise, that she actually liked that.

All day long she simply watched him, drinking him in, breathing deeply and imaging his essence flooding her lungs. She knew she was hopelessly in love with him, and that it could be a terrible mistake if he wasn't as sincere about his affections as he said he was. But she needed this almost more than life itself, and so she wallowed in it.

As she watched him get dressed to go to work, she finally asked the question she had been dreading all day.

"When will I see you again?"

"Well, I have to go to work. And then tomorrow I have an appointment with my doctor, for him to evaluate whether I'm healthy enough to have this relationship with you, and then ..." He stopped, as if he was trying to remember, but she knew he was waiting for her to react to the joke.

"I love you," she whispered, scared out of her mind that he'd reject her.

"That's good," he said. "It would be exceedingly awkward if I kept chasing you around town and you didn't."

"So you're going to keep chasing me?"

"Only until you catch me," he said.

"People will think I'm a cougar," she sighed.

"I'm thirty-one, Jen," he said. "We Orientals age well."

"You are not!" she said, heat in her voice.

He picked up his wallet from the dresser and tossed it to her. "I carded you. It's only fair that you card me too."

She did dig through his wallet, looking for his driver's license, but only because her hands were shaking so hard she had to do something with them. He was only three years younger? Could it possibly be? She felt something leap in her chest as she saw the plastic card, with his image on it. He was telling the truth!

"If anything, people will think I'm a gold digger," he said, buttoning his shirt.

"That's ridiculous," she said. "I don't have any money."

"You will if you want to," he said. "We have this high powered lawyer who is representing the club and all us guys against the suits. He has friends who are representing some of the women. The reason Brandi started having parties, and the reason most of those women started going in the first place, was because they found out about their husbands' affairs. Some of those women have been collecting data on their cheating spouses for years, and when those guys get into court, they're in for a very rude awakening."

Jennifer nodded, her eyebrows rising. "I found out Roger had a whole other family on the side. He married this woman ... or at least he pretended to get married. He even got her pregnant twice! At least that's what she claims. He told her I was fighting the divorce, and she actually asked me to move on with my life so she can be with him!"

"Paternity test and wham! Half of everything he has is yours."

"I don't know if I want to go through that," she said. "I'd almost rather be poor."

"That's fine with me," he said. "I'm not after you for your money."

"Oh? And how do I know you're telling the truth?"

"Because if you can't tell by now, that means I have to go two hours, and no woman has been able to stand it for two hours. You'd go stark raving mad, and have an unending, permanent orgasm."

She remembered feeling like she wanted what was happening to her to last for days, and smiled.

"So where do we go from here?" she asked.

"I want to spend as much time with you as you'll let me spend with you," he said.

"Are you asking me to live with you?"

"If you want that, I'd be delighted," he said. "I still want to volunteer at the center. That was fun, and it made me feel better about myself."

"Why did you feel bad about yourself?" she asked.

"Because I went there to seduce you ... for selfish purposes."

She went to him and brushed her lips across his, very briefly.

"Again!" she whispered. She backed up. "Now do you feel selfish?"

He grinned. "I do not," he said. "I feel lucky."

When Jennifer used her key to enter the employee entrance, one of the sometimes night volunteers, a college student named Roy, was washing pots and pans.

"There's a girl who came here hours ago asking for you," he said. "She's been crying and screaming ever since. Nobody can console her. She keeps asking for you."

"Who is she?" asked Jennifer.

"She says she's your daughter."

Tiffany was sitting in a corner, huddled and sniffling. Two homeless people were trying to talk to her, but she wouldn't answer them. When she saw Jennifer she burst into tears and crawled toward her mother.

It took five minutes, but finally she calmed down enough to tell her mother she was pregnant.

Another half an hour established that Tiffany was two months pregnant, and that the only boy she'd had sex with, to her knowledge, was Todd, the college student her mother had refused to let take her to the mall that night. By circumventing her mother, she had put herself in a position where Todd got her drunk and fucked her. Not that she was a virgin at the time. She'd been having sex since she was thirteen. It had been her sexual adventures, in fact that started her fights with her mother. Once she was an "experienced woman" in her own mind, she felt like her mother treated her like a baby, and resented it.

But she had always made the boys use a condom. Todd, once he'd had her, took her whenever he wanted, calling her his girlfriend, knowing that the impressionable fifteen-year-old would be too excited to think about anything. And Todd never used a condom. Condoms were for babies, he said.

Of course, when she told him she was pregnant, he called her a slut and told her never to talk to him again, and that if she claimed it was his, he'd sue her.

Had she talked to her father, things might have worked out differently. As a lawyer, he would have been able to inform her that she had all the aces in this game. But she knew he'd be furious with her. He'd been calling her "My pure, sweet baby girl" and "My sweet, innocent virgin" for two years. She didn't think that was odd. Had she talked to her mother, things might have worked out differently. As an adult woman, her mother would have been alert to the fact that Daddy was much too interested - in inappropriate ways - in the sexual status of his nubile daughter.

But she only talked to her mother when it was absolutely required.

So she had done what thousands of teenagers do. She waited, hoping that it would just all go away. But now, her body was changing in ways that made it clear there was a little human growing inside her, and it terrified her.

So she had sought out her mother to get money for an abortion.

It was at this point, the point where the word "abortion" came from her daughter's lips, that Jennifer sobered up.

"I don't have any money," she said. "Your father has all the money. You're going to have to talk to him about that."

"I can't!" wailed Tiffany. "He'll kill me! He keeps talking about how someday he's going to walk his virgin daughter down the aisle!"

"Non the less, he's the one who gave you permission to let that boy take you places. He's the one with the money. There's nothing I can do for you."

Tiffany's face turned ugly. "You won't help me!" she screamed. "All you can think about is that I went around you to Daddy when I wanted something. You never gave me anything! You always treated me like a baby! I hate you!"

Jennifer stood up. "Then I guess we're finished here." She felt empty. It was clear that Tiffany was still consumed with her own wants and desires. In that moment Jennifer wished she did have the money for an abortion, because no child should be exposed to having a mother like Tiffany. And, as the girl stormed out of the shelter, still screaming and cursing, Jennifer knew she had one more unsavory thing to do. She'd have to call Roger and tell him about the baby. She was quite sure Tiffany wouldn't tell him until she couldn't keep it a secret any longer, and that might be for another two months. She knew Roger would never go for an abortion. And that meant that baby needed prenatal care, because it was going to be carried to term.

It went much worse than she imagined. First, Roger said he didn't believe her, and that she was trying to drive a wedge between him and his daughter. His daughter ... not their daughter. Then he asked her details of exactly when and where she talked to Tiffany, even asking if there were any witnesses. It was his use of the word "witness" that made her realize he intended to claim she had violated the no contact order, even though Tiffany had sought her out. Finally she said "Find someone to adopt the child, Roger, because I will have nothing to do with either you or her from this day forward." Then she hung up.

Her refuge was Josh. There was a mixture of sadness and joy when she announced she was moving out of the shelter. She had overstayed her welcome, at least officially. Nobody was supposed to stay in the shelter for more than a week at a time. True, there were those who were in such dire straits that they stayed a week, spent one night on the street and then came back for another week. A blind eye was turned to that kind of thing, but only when it was clear that the need was both real and urgent.

So now she worked half a day as a CPA, and then spent some hours working at the shelter, and then went home to wait for Josh, who was always worked up when he came home. They would make love, sleep late, make love again, and then start the pattern all over again. Both of them were content.

Sometimes she went to the club to watch him dance and wait for him. She met Baldwin Guthrie, of Barnesworth, Guthrie and Middleton, the law firm that was handing the lion's share of the divorces for the women associated with the Silver Lake Scandal. When he found out the particulars of her situation, he begged her to let him represent her. She said she hadn't planned on contesting the divorce.

"You don't have to ask for money," he said. "But certain things need to be established by the court for your protection in the future. Take, for example, the fact that you did violate the no contact order. We can argue that it wasn't your fault, and that you sent the girl away as soon as you could. But unless we get that on the record, he can claim ten years from now that she needs therapy because of your blatant disregard for the law, and attach your house, your savings, or your income. You need to settle things now. Let me do that for you."

"I can't pay you," she argued.

"Your husband will pay me," he said with a smile. "That will be part of the suit. You may not be interested in asking for money," he said, "but I don't mind doing that one bit. I know of your husband. I know his reputation. I've never gone up against him, but I know people who have. And knowing now what he's been doing on the side? Trust me. You need to get that on the record too, and make him pay. Otherwise he'll keep trying to make you pay as long as he lives."

So she signed some documents, and gave him the leash to go where he wanted.

They say that when one wants to break a habit successfully, it calls for a change in lifestyle. Most people think "change in lifestyle" means small change. An example is a smoker, who loves to smoke after a meal, but wants to stop smoking. The lifestyle change most people would think of there is to do something else after the meal, like go for a walk, or bounce a basketball for five minutes ... anything that will "alter the lifestyle of the smoker."

But as any smoker who has actually kicked the habit will tell you, it calls for a heck of a lot more than changing ten minutes of your day. You have to think about literally everything in a new way, a way that reminds you over and over again that you are no longer a smoker, until you just don't think about smoking any more. Habits remind you they need to be engaged in. And the only way to leave one behind, is to be able to no longer think about it unless you try to. It's very stressful, because everything has to change until there is no hint of smoking (the habit) left in your life. It's one reason why people who have successfully conquered the smoking habit are the most rabid anti-second-hand-smoke people in the world. They want nothing to do with smoke again. Nothing.

In many ways, relationships are like habits. You expect to see and interact with the same people on a more or less routine basis. You expect to have to do certain things that the relationship calls for. Your day is structured around the needs and requirements of the other people in the relationship. Employment is an example. Your job structures most of five days a week for the average person. Marriage is another example.

And breaking the marriage habit is just as stressful as stopping smoking. The comfortable, familiar routine of day by day interaction with a chosen mate is no longer there. You have to find other things to do, and other people to interact with. In essence, you have to create an entirely new life that doesn't have the old components of marriage in it.

For Jennifer, breaking the marriage habit also involved breaking the parent habit, because it was clear that Tiffany was not in a place where she was willing to accept Jennifer as her mother. She might get there some day, but for the present, in losing her husband, Jennifer was also losing her daughter.

Such a thing is often devastating, a thing that crushes the soul and renders one impotent in terms of merely going on with a life that has any meaning in it.

Except that there was Josh.

In her marriage, she felt ignored and neglected by her husband. Josh didn't ignore or neglect her. In her marriage she languished, without the physical comfort and stimulation a husband can give his wife. Josh literally couldn't keep his hands off her, making it virtually impossible for her to feel unattractive, or unappreciated. In her marriage, she was expected to perform certain tasks. Josh asked her to do things. In marriage, Roger had introduced her as "my wife." When she met Josh's friends, he characterized her as "the woman who makes my life worth living."

And in her marriage, there had been an atmosphere in which creating new life was not anticipated, planned for, or welcome.

When she and Josh made love, it was always done in the same natural way that millions of men and women had made love before birth control was even a concept. It wasn't that they were intentionally trying to get her pregnant. But the thought didn't bother, or worry either of them. In many ways, they didn't even think about pregnancy. All they thought about was watching for another orgasm in the other partner ... and exulting in knowing they had created that orgasm.

To be sure, in many ways, her relationship with Josh was stressful too. There was no contract for either longevity or fidelity in the relationship. She still felt like she was a decade older than him, even though she knew otherwise. When she looked at him she saw youthful, smooth skin, an athletic body, and the carefree, hopeful demeanor of the young. When she looked in a mirror she saw a wrinkle here and there, tired eyes, and a woman with a slightly desperate look about her, who had failed at keeping a man's love. Only in terms of the sex did she feel fully capable. She knew she could wear him out, and still be ready for more.

But slowly, his actions spoke volumes to her. Over the next few months, she learned that what Roger had offered her had never really amounted to love at all, but she had been too young to realize it. What Josh bathed her in daily was the knowledge that she mattered to him, that he needed her, to be happy and satisfied. He knew her loss was great, and he let her grieve. He gave her time to be alone, to think, but was always ready to sweep in and occupy her thoughts with other things. He still danced, but somehow she knew with rock solid certainty that the flirting he did with the patrons at the club was just an act, a performance intended to generate tips, and that what he was really thinking about up there on that stage was getting home to her naked body.

And then there was the sex.

The barren desert that had been her sex life vanished like smoke in a hurricane. It wasn't that the only thing they did was have sex. But if they went on a bike ride, she wasn't surprised if the route he chose included a private, remote little spot where a blanket could be spread, and where the two of them could lie, naked, watching the clouds drifting in the sky, until he drove her crazy with his hands, lips, and finally his stiff prick.

He knew places where a couple could use the same sauna. Sometimes there were other couples there, also naked. She learned that nudity didn't always mean sex, though those situations always inflamed him, and made his efforts in bed, later, even more urgent than usual.

They went lots of places to see things. Museums, scenery, musicals, whatever seemed interesting, and he always had a hand on her, not possessively, but stroking her, touching her, letting her know that he couldn't wait to touch her in other ways. Many was the time he stood behind her and cupped her breasts, not doing anything more, just holding her intimately until she turned to kiss him and rub her loins against his.

More than once he came home from the club and, without saying a word, kissed her, unbuttoned a button, kissed her again, unzipped something, and continued to kiss and slowly remove her clothing, never in a hurry, and yet communicating that he just couldn't wait to see her ready for him.

And she always was. There was nothing she loved more than his arms around her, his naked body pressed to hers, as he probed, lunged and rubbed until she sobbed with relief.

And then flooded her with his love.

Three months of that led her slowly to a place where stress was only a temporary bump in an otherwise smooth road, a road that looked like it might lead to a beautiful place that, once she got there, she'd never want to leave. He taught her what love felt like in his arms, and looked like in his eyes.

And he taught her that she had never really been loved before Brandi Templeton got him for her as a party favor.

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