The Making of a Gigolo(12) - Janet Griswold
Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9
Jill walked through the door that was so familiar, and yet so
strange. Always before, when she'd walked through this door,
it had been to go to work. It had been to put on an apron,
and serve Sal's customers, make them happy, and hope for good tips in
Now that door seemed like something from a dream, long past.
The dream intensified as the door pushed open and the smells of the
diner hit her nose. She marveled at the sensations, trying to
remember getting to smell that delicious aroma every day. She
was somewhat saddened when she realized she'd taken that for granted
Sal looked over, and his face rippled through a couple of
unidentifiable emotions before he smiled.
"'Bout time you came back to get a decent meal," he said, trying to
Jill stared at him, looking so familiar in his own apron, stained with
various food items. She realized she had taken him for
granted too. She'd never really looked at him as a
man. He was just ... Sal. That had all
changed a mere half a month ago, when she had danced with him a dozen
times in the heat of the night. He had still been
Sal ... but he had suddenly been somebody else
too. She'd thought of him dozens of times since
then. He hadn't called. She didn't know what that
meant, but there was a subtle disappointment there. It was
that that had brought her into the diner again ... and not the food.
Still, she was unsure of herself. When she was with
Bobby, she could be herself. Bobby took her any way she
wanted to present herself, from blushing girl, to wanton
slut. Bobby just loved her, and he'd made her feel
truly alive again. Dancing with Sal, she'd wondered
how he looked at her. Part of her kept saying that he'd only
asked her to dance ... over and over again ... because he was being
Her mind dredged up an attitude from the past ... an attitude that had
displayed itself here, in this place, on a fairly regular basis.
"I haven't been sick for a long time," she said, grinning. "I
thought I'd come by here and remember what it's like."
"I am wounded!" moaned Sal, clutching at his chest. "I
thought you liked working here."
He was joking. She knew that. She knew that he knew
she'd been joking too, but it still didn't seem nearly as funny as it
might have a year ago.
"I didn't really mean that," she said, seriously.
He looked surprised, and then vaguely uncomfortable.
"I know." He fidgeted. "Um ... what can I get you?"
About then the high school girl who had replaced Jill approached and
offered to seat Jill.
"I just needed to talk to Sal for a minute," said the former waitress.
She walked behind the counter, like she still worked there, and went to
stand in front of Sal.
"How come you haven't called?" she asked, unable to think of anything
else to say.
Sal's eyes darted around, for a single second or two, and his fingers
fluttered against his apron.
"I didn't know I was supposed to," he said, looking scared,
suddenly. It was a look she'd never seen on his face, and it
looked wrong somehow.
"I think you were," said Jill.
Sal's eyes went round then, and he actually backed up a step.
"You mean it?" he asked.
"No, I just thought I'd come in here and tease you." It was
difficult to banish that old attitude, or the snide comments they had
traded a hundred times. "Are you going to call me?"
"Yes," he whispered. He looked like he was ready to
bolt for the door any second.
"I'm going home," she said as she pointed at the grill. "That
burger is burning."
She left, looking over her shoulder at him three times, watching him
try to salvage the meat on the grill, and look over his own shoulder at
her. She felt a surge of something very close to
joy at the look on his face.
The twins were given even more to think about when Renee came home from
the hospital with her new son. It wasn't that it was Bobby
who brought her home. That didn't seem odd to
them. Nor did it seem odd that Renee was almost
jubilant, as she carried her son into the house.
What made them look at each other, with that look that only twins can
trade, and which communicates much more than the looks that the rest of
us give each other, was when they got introduced to the cute little
baby boy. Renee uncovered his tiny face, and held
him where both girls could see him.
"I'd like you to meet Robert," said Renee, looking lovingly at the
scrunched up face, with the thick mop of coal black hair above
it. "Isn't he just gorgeous?"
It didn't take long, then. As if they were waking up from a
comfortable dream, that they really didn't particularly want to wake up
from, the twins began to think about all the clues that had been all
around them ... for years. They worked for Renee
... were around her all the time. They knew she wasn't seeing
any men. That she had gotten pregnant at all was one of the
clues they had ignored.
It wasn't that they were stupid. They just hadn't been paying
any attention to the world around them. Not really.
They had had their own little world of friends, and school, and family,
and in that world, women got pregnant. It was just something
that happened, as far as they were concerned. Their mother's
friends got pregnant, without any particular man being identified as
the father, so an unamarried pregnant woman wasn't that odd to
them. At the same time, the fact that women got
pregnant was part of their thinking, at least when it came to what they
had done with Chuck, their now ex-boyfriend. That's why they
had insisted he wear rubbers when he fucked them.
Now, though, their comfortable little world had changed. It
had shrunk, a bit, which might explain why they paid more attention to
what was going on around them. They didn't see all
their friends from school, now that they had graduated. They
weren't distracted by that part of their life any
more. They worked with babies and
children daily, now, for hours on end, and saw the personalities of
those children evolve, with the extended exposure to them.
With that came a heightened interest in those children, and other
children they saw, but didn't necessarily take care
of. And, with that heightened interest, they looked
at those children in different ways than they had in the past.
After learning that Renee's baby was named Robert, it was almost
impossible for them not to connect the fact that the only man Renee
spent much time with at all was ... Bobby ... whose formal name was ...
The epiphany they shared was so bright, and so obvious, that they
disbelieved it, at first. It was like they went for
a walk in one of the wheat fields they had worked in, as children, and
were suddenly surrounded by hundreds and hundreds of trees.
In this case, the trees were babies. There weren't hundreds
and hundreds of them, but to take the tree analogy perhaps a bit too
far, they all seemed to be the same species ... with the same
And when they started looking for the gardener who had planted all
those trees, the pool of possibilities was pretty small. In
fact, it was a puddle, instead of a pool.
That's what they couldn't believe. They
identified at least eleven boys who looked startlingly like Bobby, now
that they thought about it. Two of those boys were delivered
by their older sisters. One was delivered by their
mother. And one, Kyle, had a twin sister, which meant that
the father of Kyle was also the father of Katherine. That
opened the can of worms that was girls, and there were half a dozen of
them who were born to women who either had no husband, or who had a
husband who didn't seem to have given much to the appearance of their
You can't just "accept" that your big brother has sired a dozen and a
half children, with more than a dozen women, none of whom he is married
to, and three of which he is related to by blood.
They didn't argue about it. They just pointed things out to
each other, and then traded off saying, "It can't be. It just
And who do you ask, in that situation, for clarification, or information with which to form an alternate hypothesis? You can't
just go up to your mother and say, "Hey Mom, I was just wondering ...
Theodore looks an awful lot like Bobby, and ... well ... did you, by
chance, sort of have our brother's baby?"
They couldn't ask Mary either. Her two boys looked completely
different. Besides, she was too much like their mother, in
And you can't go up to a woman you've known all your life, but who
isn't in your family, and just ask, "Hey, did my big brother just happen
to knock you up?"
Then there was Bev. And they didn't want to ask her
either. It was still too easy to believe it was all some kind
of massive conclusion they had jumped to, and they didn't want Bev to
hate them forever for thinking something was true that wasn't.
That left Bobby.
In the end, as they finally thought of just asking Bobby, they couldn't
believe they hadn't thought of that earlier. Bobby
was ... well he was just Bobby. He was their big
brother. He did chores with them, hardly ever bossed them
around, played with them as kids, built things for them, including
their secret tree house that their other sisters still didn't know
about ... he was just their big brother.
He wouldn't be mad if they were wrong. Somehow they just knew
it. If they were wrong, he'd just laugh.
That was what led them to his bedroom door, on a hot night in late
July, after everybody else in the house was in bed for the night.
Matilda turned the knob slowly. There was light coming from
under the door. She pushed the door open slowly, not wanting
to knock, for some reason. Bobby's reading lamp was
on, and there was a book lying on the sheet. It was summer,
and that sheet was all that was on the bed, except for the book.
"Where is he?" asked Betty, from behind her.
"The light wasn't on in the bathroom," pointed out Matilda.
"Maybe he's getting a snack. We'll just wait."
Ten minutes later, they got tired of waiting, and went to the kitchen,
which was dark and empty. Only one other light was on in the
whole house, and that sent dim beams under their mother's
door. They could hear the faint sound of voices from
inside. It had to be Bobby in there with her.
At that point, habit took over. They had been taught to
knock, but Mamma's room was different, somehow. Mamma was
always alone. If her light was on, she was
awake. Why knock?
They found out when they pushed that door open, and saw their naked
mother, sitting upright, looking up at the ceiling, her mouth open and
her eyes tightly shut. She looked like she was screaming, but
only a long, low groan came from her mouth. Bobby's fingers
were pulling at both her nipples, stretching her breast flesh out until
those breasts looked pointed, like a pair of very strange dunce caps or
something. Bobby was naked too. His head rolled,
and his blue eyes stared at the intruders.
So quickly that it seemed like a snake, his right hand let go of the
nipple it was holding. The breast snapped back to its normal
shape, and that hand whipped toward the two astonished girls, bending
at the wrist, and then flipping toward them again. The
meaning was as instantly clear as if their brother had
Then his hand, still moving so fast it was almost a blur went to his
face, and his index finger pressed to his lips, a silent caution for
them to leave quietly. Only the fact that her fingers were
between the door and the jamb stopped it from slamming shut, as
Matilda's butt backed into her sister and she pulled the door
closed. She gulped breath, to keep a scream of pain inside,
and extracted her fingers. Paying particular attention to the
door, instead of the pain, she closed the door as quietly as she
could. Then she danced, trying to be silent, shaking her
fingers and moaning softly.
Betty wanted to talk, but Matilda pushed her. Somehow they
ended up back in Bobby's room, where the light was
on. It only took half a minute for the pain in
Matilda's fingers to subside to the point where she turned to her still
speechless sister and said, "It's true!"
For the twins, what they had seen was received as validation for all
their suspicions. Just as, only moments before, they could
not believe that Bobby was the father of all those babies ... right
now, the scales tipped hard in the other direction.
This, though, was uncharted water, and both of them felt like they were
floating in a vast ocean, with no land in sight. It was
really that that kept them in his room, sitting on the edge of his
bed. They no longer knew how to navigate, or what direction
in which to swim.
"What do we do?" It was Betty who finally spoke.
"I don't know." Matilda sounded as lost as Betty felt.
It took another half hour before they recovered enough to realize that
Bobby didn't appear to be coming back any time soon. The
image of their mother, looking astonishingly sexual - something neither
girl had ever imagined before - kept bounding around in their heads.
Finally, they crept back to their room. They didn't turn on a
light, but got into bed instead.
"I wish Chuck was here," whispered one.
"Me too," whispered the other.
His mother had needed him badly, tonight. Bobby knew that,
because she had come to his room, and just stood in the door.
She had done that only twice before. Usually, it was he who
went to her room, and walked in. When he did that,
he saw a range of emotions on her face, but she never told him to leave.
On nights like this, he knew she would need a lot of loving, and that's
what he had given her. She had moaned her way
through four orgasms - was in the middle of her fourth - when the twins
opened the door. He had known, somehow, that it
would not be good if she knew they had been
observed. Mary knew about them, and Flo and
Suzie. Some of the others might suspect, but it had never
been talked about. Mamma pretended no one knew, except
Prudence, but since Prudence also let him between her legs, now and
then, that was all right.
So he had waved them away, and been very thankful that they'd done what
he told them to do. Mamma had gone on for a fifth
orgasm, and had a sixth when he rolled her over and lunged
into her, slamming his prick deep, before finally spending himself next
to her womb.
Even then she had clung to him, not talking. She had wanted
kisses, and he had given them to her until he stiffened
again. Her whispers of "I love you," had been soft in his
ears, as he made love much more gently with her.
She hadn't even tried for an orgasm then, just loving the feeling of
him stroking in her, and telling him how much she loved
that. He had cum in her again, almost overwhelmed
by the love her lips poured into his ears, and her hands expressed all
over his body.
She would have let him stay the night, but he knew he had to talk to
the twins, so with a final long kiss, he said he was going to the
bathroom. He knew she'd be asleep before he got back, if
that's what he really meant to do, so he tucked her in and
left. Her eyes were already heavy. The smile on her
face was one of the most wonderful things he'd ever seen.
His light was on, and his door was open, but the twins weren't
there. He went as silently down the hall as the squeaky
boards would let him, but when he pushed open their door, he could
clearly hear the deep, slow breathing that told him they were asleep.
He decided to wait until morning.
Constance opened her eyes to the morning light. The first
thing she thought about was Tim. That was still the way it
was. Then she thought about having to get up and going to
work. Finally, she thought about the fact that Bobby had said
he'd set aside Saturday, the next day, to spend some time with her.
It was the thoughts of Bobby that got her up and out of bed.
Once up, she was all right. Getting ready for work was a
habit, now, and she didn't have to think about that. Work
would take care of itself. She didn't want to think about
Tim. So she thought about Bobby, and the next day, instead.
Mirriam was up and gone to work when the twins woke up, though they
didn't know that then. Full of a strange energy, they bounced
out of bed and almost ran to the kitchen, where the smell of bacon and
eggs was coming from. Both wondered what it would be like to
see their mother, simply cooking breakfast, after the way they had seen
her the night before.
Both stopped in their tracks as Bobby's broad back was exposed to them,
when they came around the corner and into the doorway. He
seemed like a stranger to them, suddenly.
"It's almost ready." His voice came without him turning his
He sounded so normal. But nothing was normal
anymore. This ... man ... this ... person they had known for
so long, but felt like they didn't know at all ... was standing there
doing something they'd seen him do a hundred times.
He finally looked over his shoulder.
"Either run away, or sit down," he said calmly.
Everyone thought the twins were as identical to each other as they
looked. That wasn't true, though. Matilda was the
elder, and she was the leader, in those few situations where whatever
action was called for wasn't quite clear. She
walked in and sat down. Betty followed.
The man put plates in front of them, and then dropped forks on the
table, with what seemed like loud clangs.
"Milk or juice?" asked their big brother, just as normal as pie.
Neither could speak. He looked like their big brother...
He got a glass of each for them both, and then juice for
himself. He sat down, across from them.
He sounded like their big brother, just then, like he had sounded in
the past when he caught them doing something they weren't supposed to
do, and was demanding an explanation. Usually he got one,
because they had learned that if they confessed all to him, it rarely
went any further.
"We were looking for you," mumbled Matilda, out of pure reflex.
"You found me."
"Boy, did we!" yipped Betty, unable to keep it in.
They sat there. Bobby sipped his juice.
Finally he ordered "Eat!"
It was a small thing that broke the stalemate. Of all the
girls, the twins were the ones who ate the least. That
probably accounted for their slim body shapes. But it was
practically routine for them to take more than they actually wanted,
and it was also routine for Bobby to pick up the slack.
He reached across the table and lifted a piece of bacon from Betty's
plate, taking a bite of it, and chewing slowly. It was so normal that the girls relaxed.
"Is Theodore your baby?" asked Matilda, suddenly.
"Yes," he said, reaching for a piece of bacon from Matilda's plate too.
His voice was so casual. It was like he was saying "Yeah,
that's my shirt."
"And Kyle and Katherine?" Betty stopped, with her fork
halfway to her mouth.
Another forty-five seconds went by before it was Matilda's turn.
"Uh huh." He picked up one of the two pieces of toast he had
put on Betty's plate, and took a bite.
"And Stevie?" Betty sounded almost interested now, and less
"He's mine too."
Matilda put her fork down and sat up straight.
"Andrew Thompson?" She took a breath. "Christopher
... and Jordan?"
He only nodded this time.
"All of them?" Betty asked, helplessly.
"Not quite all," he said softly.
"But how?" Betty's voice went up at least an octave.
He finally smiled. "I think you know how."
This, again, was Bobby. He didn't tell her she was
stupid. He just teased a little.
"When did all this happen?" It was Matilda's turn to sound
Bobby stood up to get more juice.
"I thought you knew. Everybody else seems to know.
Even Suzie knows."
"You did it with her?!" squeaked Betty.
He grinned. "No, not with Suzie. She didn't want
It wasn't hard to figure out that his specific mention of Suzie, by
herself, suggested that all their other sisters ... all their other
sisters ... had done the same thing with him that they had seen him
doing with their mother last night.
"All of our sisters?" Matilda's voice was weak.
"Except Suzie," he admitted. "And you two, of
course. Neither of you ever showed any interest that way."
"You mean they ... asked?!" Matilda was astounded.
"Mary did," he said. "Bev did too, after she caught
us. And Linda, kind of. It was
complicated. Whenever somebody caught me with one
of the others, they had to kiss me, so they couldn't tattle."
He looked genuinely contrite. "I guess they liked kissing me,
and wanted more."
The twins could understand that. That's how it had started
with Chuck. Kissing was fun. The other stuff was
more fun. But kissing ... Bobby?
"Wait!" blurted Betty. "Does that mean we have to kiss you?"
He smiled. "Who would you tattle to?"
He had a point.
"Do they all know about ... Mamma?" That was Betty.
"Some know, and I imagine some suspect," he answered.
"And they all just ... let you?" That was Betty again.
"I never did anything to any of them that they didn't agree to," said
Bobby solemnly. "Like I said, some of them asked me to."
"I can't believe that!" squealed Betty. "Why would they ask
you to get them pregnant?!"
"Oh ... that," said Bobby, understanding that her previous question had
been about the pregnancies, and not just the lovemaking.
"That wasn't really ... um ... exactly planned, I guess. Not
with Mary and Bev. I don't think Linda planned it
either. She was kind of mad at Paul when that happened, and
she stopped taking her pills."
"Were any of them planned?" Now it was Matilda who sounded
"Not with my sisters," he admitted. "Not Mamma either, but
some other women wanted that."
They said it in unison.
That was pretty much it, for that morning. The twins had
received much more information in the last twelve or so hours than they
could assimilate, without talking it through, as was their
habit. Bobby said he had something to do, and left,
which left them with plenty of time to talk.
What Bobby had to do that day was take Constance to Kansas City, where
he showed her some of the things he'd seen while there with
Felicity. They spent the majority of the day in the Nelson
Art Gallery, on the Plaza, where both of them stood, amazed, at what
was on display. They knew about art, of course. But
they'd never seen it like this.
On the way back to Granger they tried to find a radio station that had
songs they knew, and could sing along with. When he
delivered her to her mother's house, she took his hand as they walked
up to the door.
"I can't tell you how much fun that was," she said.
"Was this a date, Bobby?" she asked, suddenly.
"I don't know," he said. "Do you want it to have
been a date?"
"I want to kiss you," she said. "That makes me feel
weird. But if it was a date, maybe not so weird."
"You've kissed me before," he said, his voice neutral.
"Not since Tim."
"Ahhh." His voice held understanding. "Tell you
what. When you're ready, I'll kiss you."
"Do you want to kiss me?"
"Did I want to kiss you last time?"
She thought about that. It seemed like it was eons ago that
his lips had touched hers. But the memory of that first kiss
was just as stark and clear as it was possible to
be. That he had wanted to kiss her then ... that
his kiss had communicated that without any doubt ... was a memory she
would never forget.
"You did," she said.
"And what has changed?" he asked.
"Everything has changed," she moaned.
He did kiss her then, but only on the forehead.
"We going to do this again?" he asked.
"Go out like this?"
"I think ... yes."
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