The Making of a Gigolo (14) - Erica Bradford

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26


This is story number fourteen in a series of stories about how Bobby Dalton was transformed, from a normal teenage boy, into a man sought after by many women. His story starts with "The Making of a Gigolo - Tilly Johnson," and there is much information in that first story, and the ones that followed it, that will be useful to you in understanding what happens in this story.

For your fullest enjoyment, and because parts of each story are continued in succeeding ones, please read the stories in order.

Additionally, there are a number of references in the plot of this story to the musical "Brigadoon." If the reader is unfamiliar with that musical, it might be worth taking time to review a description of the production before or while reading this story.

And if you ever get a chance to see the musical ... do it. It's a great show.


Chapter One

1975 - November

November was tumultuous month for Bobby and a number of the women who loved him. Of course, by this time in his life, that seemed routine.

The first thing that happened was that Betty and Matilda both missed their periods. They'd been having them together for as long as they'd been having them. When they realized what had happened, of course, they discussed it.

"What are we going to do?" asked Betty, who often, but not always, deferred to Matilda.

"We're going to have babies, stupid!" said Matilda, who was feeling ill.

"What's Mamma going to say?" moaned Betty.

"I don't know, and I don't want to know." Matilda sounded scared.

"We have to tell her."

"No we don't."

"We can't hide it! Not for long!" Betty's voice got loud.

"Hush!" whispered Matilda. "We can hide it for as long as possible."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Tildy," whined Betty.

"Well, I don't know what else to do."

"We could talk to Bobby."

"He warned us this would happen," sighed Matilda. "He'll just yell at us too."

"How can he yell at us?" complained Betty. "He's the one who got us this way! He's in as much trouble as we are!"

"Did anybody yell at him for getting all those other women that way?" insisted Matilda. "Did Mamma yell at him for getting her that way?"

Had they sat back and listened to themselves, they might have laughed. They were worried about something that had happened before. They knew it had happened before, with some of their sisters, and with their own mother. It was highly unlikely that anyone in their own family would have a moral platform from which to yell at them.

But, as so often happens, the youngest children in the family retained some aspects of their childhood much longer than they should.

Another thing that shook things up, at least to some degree, was when Bobby got a call from Jill, who asked him to come to the house.

"Sure," he said. It wasn't at all unusual for him to spend time there, both playing with his children, and making love to their mothers.

When he got there, though, Jill looked very sober.

"I need to talk to you," she said.

"Talking is one of my talents," he joked.

"Sal figured out that you're Steven's father."

Bobby knew Jill had been going out on dates with her old employer. He approved, because he liked Sal. He was afraid, though, that this meant Sal had dumped her.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Yes," she frowned, "and no."

He waited. He knew she'd go on.

"He asked me to marry him."

It was only because it was unexpected that it took a moment for his face to split into a wide grin.

"That's fantastic, Jill!"

She smiled weakly. "It is, isn't it."

"Of course it is!" he said. He paused. "Unless you don't want to accept. Is that the problem?"

Her eyes widened. "No! That's not it. I do want to. I think I love him." Her eyes narrowed. "No, I know I love him."

"So what's the problem?"

"You're the problem," she said.

He frowned. "Look, Jill. You know I love Steven, but I can't lay claim to you. Not because of him. I thought you didn't think about me that way anyway."

"I don't think of you that way," she said. "But if I tell Sal I'll marry him, I can't see you anymore."

Bobby stared at her. He couldn't tell if she still wanted to see him ... or not.

"What, exactly, are you worried about?" he asked.

"I don't want to hurt your feelings," she said, looking uncomfortable.

"You won't hurt my feelings," he said. "Just tell me what you're worried about."

"I just did." She looked confused.

He blinked. "Could you be a little more specific about it?" he asked, hopefully.

"We've been lovers for years," she said. "I love you, and I know you love me. But if I marry Sal ... if I accept his proposal, I won't sleep with you anymore. That wouldn't be fair to Sal."

"Of course not," said Bobby. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

"You wouldn't?"

Then he got it. She was worried that he'd feel like she broke up with him, or something like that. He took her hands in his.

"Sweetie, I couldn't be happier that you found someone to love that way. You have so much to give to a man, and you deserve so much. Sal's a good man. I'll miss what we've shared, but I can't be unhappy about stopping. Not if it means you get the kind of happiness you deserve."

Tears filled her eyes and she rubbed at them with the heels of her hands.

"Oh, come on," he said. "Don't cry. You should be happy!"

"I am happy, you idiot!" she yipped, and leapt to hug him. "Thank you so much."

"What are you thanking me for?" he said, trying to sound jovial. "All I did was knock you up and then refuse to marry you. You should hate me."

"I could never hate you," she said into his chest. "I'll always love you."

"You save that for Sal," he said, disengaging from her. This kind of physical and emotional closeness had led to them dragging each other to bed many times in the past.

In his mind, though, Jill Trimble was already off limits.

Two days later, he got a call from Renee.

"Hi," he said. "What's up?"

"This is Renee Harqart," she said, formally.

"I know that," he said. "Is anything wrong?"

"No!" she said, sounding frustrated. "I said this is Renee Harqart, Bobby ... not Renee Zimmerman!"

He still didn't get it. "Okay," he said, carefully.

"I got my annulment decree from Nevada, you dope!" she yelled.

"Wow! That's great!" he yelled.

"I want to celebrate," she said. "Tonight ... with you."

"What time?" he asked, thinking she was throwing a party. He'd been to see both Renee and their son a number of times since Robert had been born. She hadn't expressed any overt signs, however, that she wanted to sleep with him, and he hadn't pressed it. It wasn't hard for him to believe that a woman who'd had a man's unplanned baby might not be interested in continuing the activities that had created that baby.

Renee was also thinking about their son, though in a different way. She was putting him down for the night around eight these days. He'd started to sleep through the night fairly regularly now.

"Eight-thirty," she said.

Bobby thought that was late to start a party, especially for a woman who would have to be up the next morning around six, to get ready for children to arrive at her childcare center. But it was her celebration, so he didn't say anything other than "I'll be there. You want me to bring anything?"

"Just yourself," she said.

Despite her denial that he needed to bring anything, Bobby wanted to take something. He knew she was nursing, so it couldn't be wine. He also knew she loved expensive cheeses, so he stopped at the new deli that had opened up in town and asked for "something fancy." He knew he'd misunderstood when he got to her house and there were no cars in the driveway.

She was waiting for him. The door was standing open when he got to it. She was hugging what looked like a flannel robe around her.

"Hurry up!" she yipped. "It's cold!"

"You didn't have to stand in the door," he said, smiling. "I know how to get in."

"I was too excited to just stand around," she said, pulling him inside and closing the door.

"I thought this was going to be a party," he said, extending the brick of very expensive cheese.

"It is," she said. She lifted the package to her nose and inhaled deeply. "Mmmmmm, it smells delicious ... but it can wait."

She handed the cheese back to him.

"Would you be a darling and put that in the fridge for me? Then come to my office."

He grinned and headed to the kitchen. When he entered the office, he stopped short. She was leaning backwards against the desk, her hands on it, like they were helping to hold her up. She wasn't wearing the robe any longer. She had taken it off to reveal something that was quite useless for either keeping her warm or wearing to bed. It held her breasts up, for example, but did not cover them. The panties matched, but were much smaller than the smallest bikini. Her breasts were swollen, milky white, with very dark nipples, and he could see blue veins tracing all over them.

"My, my," he sighed, drinking in her beauty.

"I got this just for you," she said, almost shyly.

"It's gorgeous."

"I feel silly," she said. There was yearning in her voice.

"You shouldn't feel silly," he said. "I hope you can run fast."

"What?" She was confused.

"I'm getting ready to chase you all over the house," he said, smiling.

"You won't have to chase me very far." Her voice was husky.

He didn't lurch toward her, though. In fact, he stepped toward her very slowly. Her eyes were pinned to his, and her lips parted as her breathing rate increased. He stopped, almost touching her, but not quite.

"This is what got you in trouble last time," he said softly.

"I never wore anything like this for you before," she whispered.

"You know what I mean." He let his eyes go down to take in her pillowy breasts, then brought them back up to her face. "That outfit could get you in serious trouble tonight."

"Why do you think I'm wearing it?"

The alarm clock roused Renee, and she rolled toward it instinctively, to shut it off, but ran into a soft/hard warm body. An arm from that body reached out, found the alarm clock, fumbled with it, and made it go silent.

She let her arm come down on his body, and stroked him with her hand, from his chest, to where his soft pubic hair started. His stomach sucked in and she knew she was tickling him.

"Good morning," she said, kissing his right nipple.

"I thought you finally cried uncle last night," he mumbled.

"That was then. This is now." She kissed his nipple again. "The troops have retreated, regrouped, rested and are ready to sally forth again into glorious battle."

In fact, she was satisfied. He had been both urgent and thorough in his lovemaking. She'd lost count of her orgasms somewhere along number nine. He'd given them to her with his fingers, and his mouth, and that magnificent prick of his. She hadn't been prepared for him to suck her full breasts dry, though. She'd been trying to figure out how to make her new breast pump work when she'd heard his car drive up, and had decided to just live with the pain she knew would come later, until he was finished and she could get up and figure it out.

He hadn't finished and she hadn't had to figure it out. The first thing she thought about when his lips started her milk flowing was that she should feel shame, but the ecstasy of him nursing was so electric that she quit feeling like this was somehow perverted and just enjoyed it. Her first orgasm, in fact, had been just because of those feelings.

Later, when there was no more milk to give, he'd sucked at her clitty, like she might give milk there, too, and she'd crashed through two more orgasms. Then, before she could catch her breath, his prick was there, filling her like she'd remembered so well. It wasn't until two more orgasms had wracked her body that he'd spoken.

"Do you want me to pull out?"

"No," she'd panted. "I'm nursing. I haven't had a period since I had him."

He'd spurted in her then. He'd done it four more times during the night, until, while her head flailed, her eyes had seen the clock, and seen it was two in the morning.

That was when she'd panted "No more ... I surrender ... no more."

"Glorious battle", she knew, now meant educating and taking care of two dozen children. She got out of bed, naked and unashamed. The demi bra and panties were on the floor, but she didn't bend over and pick them up. She thought it was odd that she felt more normal naked than when she had worn them.

She pulled the covers off of him, half to tease him, and half because she didn't know if he'd get up if he was still warm. His morning erection strained and she gawked.

"You're not normal!" she yipped, staring at it.

"There's a gorgeous naked woman standing in front of me," he said, lifting his head. "It doesn't get any more normal than this."

She felt warmth in her belly, but clamped down on that.

"I have to take a shower," she said. "Children will be here in an hour."

She didn't think he'd join her, but he did. They'd only showered together once before. Her objections were left unvoiced when he pressed his lips against hers and stilled them. With the water running over them both, he lifted her like she was weightless, crushed her to the cold wall of the stall, and let her down slowly. His prick didn't catch, but it was obvious what he wanted and, when he lifted her back up, she forced a hand between them and helped.

"The children," she panted.

"This won't take long," he said in her ear. "Last night was for you. This is for me."

It may have been for him, but he didn't spurt until she moaned that she was cumming, impaled with just her toes touching the floor of the stall as he bounced her.

Then he was all business, washing her, running his hands all over her body, even between her legs, to wash himself off of her.

"I'd love breakfast," he said, running his hands over her breasts, "but those belong to Robert this morning."

She didn't think it was possible, but when the first children arrived, she was ready, Robert had been fed, and Bobby had gone out the front door, trying to get away before arriving mothers could see him and cause her any embarrassment.

He didn't quite make it.

He was in his car, with the engine running, when another car pulled into the driveway. He recognized it as belonging to Ted Brandywine, who was married to his sister, Florence. Thinking quickly, he shut his car off, got out, and opened the trunk, to pull out the tool bag he kept there.

Ted got out and waved at Bobby. Then he got into the back of his car and got his two year old daughter, Star, out of a car seat. With Star in his arms, he met Bobby, walking toward Renee's front door.

"Did my sister finally get a job?" asked Bobby. Flo was a stay-at-home mother.

"No, she's just sick, and I wanted her to be able to rest, so I'm dropping Star off here for the day," answered Ted. "Now that I've moved up to the high school, my schedule gives me more time to cover for her like this."

"I hope it's nothing serious," said Bobby. He visited his sister, occasionally, but it had been a few weeks since he'd been to their house.

"I think it's just a touch of the flu or something," said Ted. "I'm not supposed to tell anybody about it yet, but we think she's pregnant again," he continued.

"That's great!" said Bobby, grinning.

"You can't tell anybody!" cautioned Ted. "She'd skin me alive. Why she wants to be all secretive about it is beyond me. I think she might be trying to wait until Christmas to announce it or something. Who knows? Anyway, there might be some morning sickness mixed in with the flu. I don't think it's serious. She just needs some rest, and this little lady here is rest's greatest nemesis."

He kissed his daughter on the cheek.

"Hi, Unca Bobby," piped the little girl. "Story?"

Bobby sometimes read her stories from her huge pile of books when he visited them.

"Not right now, princess," said Bobby, smiling at her. "I have to do some work. Maybe I'll come over and read to you tonight, or tomorrow, okay?"

"O-tay," said the little girl. She lost interest in him then, and looked at the house like she somehow knew she was going to be left there. She hugged Ted's neck tightly.

They turned as the door opened and Renee stood, looking at them. She looked confused.

"Morning, Renee," said Bobby, taking the initiative. "I know it's early, but I thought I could get to that sink that's been causing you problems."

"Oh!" she said. She looked at Ted, probably to see if he was buying this. He was distracted with Star's diaper bag, and extra clothes, which were threatening to fall from under his arm where he'd been carrying them. "Good morning Ted," she said. "Do I get the pleasure of Star's company today?"

"Please!" said Ted, pleading a little. "Flo isn't feeling well and needs to get some extra sleep."

"No problem. Bring her in." She turned to Bobby. "Can you wait until I get Star settled in, so Ted can get to work?"

"Sure," said Bobby.

Renee started the ritual of getting a child away from a parent which that child doesn't want to let go of, luring her to play with something so she'd be distracted enough not to notice the parent leaving. Bobby looked on, smiling. She was pretty good at it, but Star saw Ted starting toward the door and began crying.

Bobby got down on his hands and knees, and put his face in front of hers.

"Tell you what, pumpkin," he said. "Your daddy has to go teach school, but I'll stay here and read you that story right now, okay?"

Star sniffled, but stopped crying actively. "O-tay," she said, somewhat hesitantly.

"Be right back," said Bobby. "You pick a book while I'm gone, okay?"

"O-tay," said the little girl, getting to her feet to trundle toward a book shelf crammed with children's books.

Bobby ushered Ted out the front door.

"Thanks," said Ted. "She's a daddy's girl all the way."

He started to turn and then stopped.

"Hey. I just remembered. There's a situation you might be able to help with."

"What's that?" asked Bobby.

"You remember Mrs. Abernathy?"

Bobby grinned. Mrs. Abernathy had been the social studies teacher in the high school when Bobby went to school there. She was a formidable harridan, and getting through her class had been considered to be one of the rites of passage for all of the students. She had also been the drama coach in charge of all the school plays. She was a superb teacher, though that was unappreciated by her students. Her demanding nature and stiff grading practices had been the bane of many a teen. On the other hand, in her role as a director of musicals and plays, everybody loved her. In that role she relaxed a bit, though her standards were still quite high. All that meant was that the productions were well attended, and one of the highlights of the culture in Granger.

"Who could forget her?" asked Bobby.

"Yeah," sighed Ted. She'd been just as hard for teachers to get along with as students. "Well, she retired."

"You're kidding," said Bobby. He couldn't imagine Granger High without Bernice Abernathy.

"Nope," said Ted. "They got a new woman in there this year. She's having some problems."

"What kind of problems?"

"Well, nobody else was willing to take on the drama stuff," said Ted. "Nobody wanted to try to fill those shoes. So they stuck Erica, the new teacher, with it. The problem is that she doesn't have any experience in that area. She's kind of floundering."

"So why don't some of the rest of you help her out?" asked Bobby.

"Well," said Ted, turning a little pink. "She's kind of ... well, to be honest ... I guess you'd say she's drop dead gorgeous."


"She's also one of those women's liberation types," said Ted. "She's kind of hard to get along with."

"I don't understand," said Bobby.

"You can't be around her and not notice her," said Ted. "That's caused some problems, because she takes offence at that. And besides that, we've had some staff get-togethers and there are some jealousy issues with some of the wives. It's complicated."

"Sounds like it," said Bobby. "I still don't see how I can help."

"They're trying to get ready for a musical," said Ted. "She was in the teacher's lounge the other day, moaning about building sets, because she doesn't know how to do that. I thought maybe you could help in that area."

"I'm no artist," said Bobby, remembering the ornate painting and decoration of the sets at the Starlight Theater in Kansas City.

"I was thinking about you just building the frames and putting the canvas on them, or whatever it is they do," said Ted. "I told her I'd mention it to you. Don't ask me why. I didn't intend to open my mouth at all. She's a very unsettling woman."

"Okay," said Bobby. "I can at least talk to her I guess. Give her my number."

"Good deal," said Ted. "And a whole lot of male teachers will thank you for this."

"I thought you said she was good looking," said Bobby, grinning.

"I'm telling you, brother," sighed Ted. "She's like one of those spiny cactuses that's in bloom ... really nice looking, but don't get too close, or you're going to feel pain."

"She'd better not be too abrasive," said Bobby. "She's the one who needs the help."

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