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

Chapter Twelve

They only worked as long as it took to finish the second frame. Tabitha said she'd come back and help them cover the two new frames with canvas and get the scenes drawn on them. Then, with typical teenage superiority, she said she'd teach them how to paint, if they wanted to learn.

Bobby smiled and Erica saw the flush that appeared on Tabitha's face as she got attention from the man she was almost willing to, "do something stupid with."

On her way home she had a lot to think about. Most of it centered on her conversation with Tabitha, who wasn't nearly as bubble-headed as Erica had thought she might be. Her comments on marriage were hard to argue with, since they were conditional. If she met the right man, and if that man made her think about marriage ... she'd think about marriage. How could you argue about that?

To Erica's way of thinking, the musical she was working so hard to make a success pointed out many of the problems with traditional romance and marriage. Take Jean, for instance. There she was, at the beginning of her adult life, with all her choices still available to her. And what did she do? She threw all her choices away. She married a man who didn't want to get married, while another man was willing to destroy Brigadoon because he couldn't have her. And Fiona. She was crazy about a man she argued with about everything! That was typical. The message was that, for a woman to be happy, she had to agree with the man. It was nonsense. And Tommy, engaged to Jane, back in New York, goes and falls in love with Fiona! That was typical of a man ... never satisfied ... always selfish ... acting like an alley cat ... breaking women's hearts right and left.

She felt much better when she pulled into the driveway, and prepared to go inside and share her day with Will.

That was because she could stop thinking about all this, and concentrate on dinner ... and then her brother. She felt relieved that, within an hour or two, the other thoughts that had kept intruding on her introspection about her discussion with Tabitha would be banished by what she was doing with Will.

Those other thoughts had been about how different she wanted to think she was from Tabitha, who was willing to trust the winds of fate, and reach for little pleasures where she could find them. Erica wanted to think she was in control of her own fate.

But her real frustration was that those other thoughts had also included the "killer cute" and "smokin'" man that made Tabitha get "all wiggly inside" when he looked at her.

Those thoughts were disturbing to Erica, because she was beginning to recognize that "wiggly" feeling in herself ... when Bobby Dalton looked at her too.

Will had finished one of the 5000 piece puzzles that day. He said he wasn't bored, but he was obviously glad to see Erica, and it wasn't dependent on what they'd do later, in his bedroom. He talked to her while she got dinner ready, and she told him about her conversation with Tabitha.

"I know what she's talking about," said Will. "When I looked at a girl, and she smiled at me, it made me feel fabulous."

"Well, whoever that girl was, she probably wasn't thinking about having sex with you," said Erica.

"Yeah, I know that now," said Will. "But back then, it was really fun to daydream about what might happen. Then I came home and peeked at you and thought about what might happen some more." He grinned.

"Did you ever think about getting married?" asked Erica.

"Only in a vague sense," he said. "None of the girls I knew made me think about that. You did, but not them."

"You can't marry your sister," she chided.

"I know that," he said. "But I imagined being married to someone like you."

"That's sweet."

"I spied on you, Erica," he reminded her.

"I know. I've forgiven you for that."

"And I know that," he said. "You know I love you so much, and that's part of why I do. I was so afraid you'd hate me forever if you ever found out."

"Well I don't hate you, and I never could, so that's settled," she said. "Now stop talking like that. You're making me horny."

She stopped, the spoon she had been about to use suspended above the pan on the stove. She froze like that because she had just used the word "horny," at least as it related to her own feelings, for the first time in her life. She was horny! That feeling in her nipples, and lower down too ... it meant she was horny!

She turned around to see her brother's right hand in his lap, rubbing gently ... just pressing here, and moving there. He was looking just looking at her.

"I like it when you're horny," he said. His eyes slid from her face ... lower.

The wild impulse to take her blouse and bra off, and stand in front of him made her feel almost dizzy. She realized suddenly that her fingers had gone to the top button of her blouse, unconsciously.

"Are you really hungry right now?" she asked, her voice husky.

"Not really," he said.

"Me, either," she said. She turned around to turn the burner off under the pot.

By the time she turned back, he had already turned his chair and had dragged himself almost to the door.

She couldn't believe she was doing what she was doing. She had unbuttoned two buttons of her blouse, and then pulled them apart to expose her upper chest and the edges of her bra. Then her hands had gone to cup her breasts, and lift them.

"You want to see these, don't you?" she had said.

"Yes," Will had said, his voice low. "You know I do."

She had unbuttoned the rest of her blouse, and let it hang. After a few seconds she had pulled the sides apart, to expose her bra-encased chest to him.

She was doing what amounted to a striptease for her brother.

That was part of what she couldn't believe. The other part was that she was enjoying the way teasing her little brother made her feel, as his eyes followed her every movement. His appreciation was palpable. She knew he expected something perilously close to "sex" from her. What she couldn't believe was how excited that made her feel. The fleeting image of her, wearing a cheerleader's outfit, popped into her mind and was then chased away.

When she got down to just her bra and panties, ten minutes had gone by. Will hadn't complained. He moved in his chair, but he didn't urge her to hurry up.

"Let's get you on the bed," she said.

He cooperated, using his one hand to help her get his clothes off. He was hard as stone when she bared his penis. She felt an almost cramp in her loins as she acknowledged she was responsible for this erection. It was almost as if she had waved some magic wand and uttered an incantation.

Once he was on the bed, she let herself enjoy teasing him some more. She undid her bra, but kept the cups covering her. Then, in fractions of an inch, she let it slide off her mounds. He hissed when her nipples finally came into view. Some instinct made her go to the bed and lean over to put her breasts above his face. That instinct made her shake her shoulders, so that her breasts wobbled as she lowered them, until his face slid between them. She dragged them back and forth, feeling the nipples slide over his mouth and nose.

He was making little noises. "Uh ... uh ... mmm ... ohhh."

She stepped back to lower her panties. She had been completely naked with him before, and he had seen her ... down there ... as her finger slid into her slippery channel. But she had never "displayed" that part of her body to him. Now, the urge to use her body to make him ... wiggle ... continued.

"You know what seeing you like this makes me want to do?" she asked.

"No," he gasped. His hand was fluttering by his side, and she knew, somehow, that he was resisting the urge to play with himself.

"It makes me want to do this," she said.

She put her right hand on her belly and moved it down, pointing her fingers so that they combed her fluffy pubic hair. She spread her feet apart and curled all but her middle finger ... her "cussing finger," as she thought of it. She watched his eyes follow that finger as she pushed it lower, between slippery folds of skin ... and into her sex.

"Ohhhh fuck, Erica," moaned Will.

"You make me feel nasty," she whispered.

His hand lost the battle, and went to his prick. He was jerking furiously on it within seconds.

She wished she had three hands ... two to pull at her itching nipples, and one to keep doing what her finger was doing between her legs. She didn't touch him, this time. She was unconsciously trying to see if she could inflame him enough for him to finish just by watching her. She'd forgotten that that was how they started this in the first place ... that she'd already done that on many occasions, most of which she wasn't even aware of.

She spread her feet further and alternated squeezing and pulling her nipples with one hand, while she masturbated furiously with the other. She was aware there was a place that zinged, where the base of her finger was. She was aware that was her clitoris, but she hadn't been doing this long enough to realize she could center her attention there. To her, "masturbating" just meant rubbing like this, and touching everything. And the finger inside her felt wonderful. It was a case of, "It doesn't feel broken, so I'm not going to fix it."

When she heard the sounds that told her he was about to cum, she quickly got into position. This time, also on pure instinct, when his slippery warm stuff started spurting, she rubbed her breasts all over his groin, instead of trying to squeeze her nipples. It wasn't as electric, but she somehow knew he would like that. He did. It was obvious, and she ended up rubbing her breasts clear up to his chest.

For whatever reason, she didn't feel like kissing him on the lips. Some of that may have been because half his lips were cold and hard and scarred. Some of it may have been because kisses had always seemed so intimate to her ... the sharing of mouths and even tongues. Maybe it was because you just didn't kiss your brother on the lips, even if that flew in the face of the other things they were doing, and made no sense at all, under the circumstances.

But she did feel the urge to press her lips to his forehead and cheeks and eyes, everywhere except his lips, even on the scarred flesh of the left side of his face. She did that while he finished, and while she dragged her breasts over his left shoulder and chest.

They were a mess when they finally stopped. She went to get a washcloth, and cleaned him up first, still naked.

"I'm going to take a quick shower, and then finish supper," she said.

"I love you so much," he replied.

"I know," she said. "I love you too. I'm glad we do this."

She hadn't cum while she teased her brother. She'd never masturbated in the shower, but since she had done so many other things lately she'd never done before, doing so now didn't seem to be a problem.

The next day Erica wheeled Will down their new ramp for the first time since he'd gotten to Granger. He hopped, to get into the car. His chair folded, and she was strong enough to lift it into the back seat of her four door sedan.

Their welcome at the Johnson house was somewhat turbulent. There was a ramp, not surprisingly just like theirs, that led to the small porch. There were a lot of emotions running rampant, and it was in both families. Will's emotions about confronting strangers will be easily understood by most readers without further comment. Erica's emotions were based on apprehension about wanting this to be something positive, and fearing it could all go wrong. If it did, she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to get him out of the house again.

The other part of the equation was the Johnsons. You might think that having a disabled person as a husband and father, and being around him all the time, would make seeing another disabled person no big deal. But while there were similarities between Will and Jake, there were also huge differences. Age was one. Jake was twice Will's age. Will's burns were another. While David and Meredith didn't give a single glance to Will's missing leg or hand, they stared at his face. Tilly's heart went out to him, because she knew how hard it was for a man in his condition to have hope. Jake's emotions were somewhat more complicated. When he met Will, he felt both awe that Will could have survived his injuries at all, and gratitude that his own injuries were as "light," in his mind, as they had been.

The inevitable tension passed, though. Tilly instructed her children not to stare, because it wasn't polite. Then she had to bark at David for asking point blank "What happened to you?" Will, in a shaky voice, gave the kids a sanitized version, saying there had been an explosion, and that he'd gotten burned.

Five hours later, Erica and Tilly both knew they had established the beginnings of a friendship that might be as important as either of them had ever had before. They had left the men in the living room to talk between themselves, and had sat in the kitchen, sharing stories and emotions that few other people could really understand. The fact that Tilly espoused none of the ideals of the women's liberation movement didn't seem important to Erica. Tilly was caring for a man who deserved to be cared for. It was a worthy pursuit.

At one point Erica mentioned how lucky Jake was that a woman would stay with him like that.

"I loved him before this happened," Tilly had said. "I didn't want to stop loving him, because I knew I'd never forgive myself. So I just kept loving him."

"Still, it must have been hard," said Erica, remembering her own horror at seeing her brother for the first time. Tilly had to have felt something like that, when they brought her broken husband home to her the first time.

"We had some help along the way," said Tilly, thinking about Bobby.

"I wish there was some way for Will to find a woman like you."

"To be completely honest, I don't think I would have been interested in Jake if I'd met him after the accident." She said it bluntly.

"I know," said Erica. "But if a woman could only get to know him ... like I know him ..."

"Don't give up hope," Tilly said. "I know Jake is telling your brother the same thing right now. Jake gave up hope, but then ... well, he found out there can always be hope."

"Your children?" asked Erica. She had figured out that both children had been born after Jakes disfigurement.

"Yes," said Tilly. That was as far as she was willing to go, though. "Should we go take them some cake?" she asked, changing the subject.

In the other room, where the men were, there was a similar exchange of emotion, though it was much stronger than most would have suspected.

For the first time since his injuries were inflicted on him, Will found someone outside the military he could talk to about it ... and who understood. The fact that Jake's injuries had been in a mining accident, or that he hadn't been to war, didn't matter really. He listened as Will was finally able to tell someone exactly what had happened, and how it had made him feel. Will was a little less angry at the world, as he was able to vomit up a significant amount of the rage that had built up inside him. Jake encouraged him, knowing that it would help. He hadn't told Tilly how he really felt about the world until after Bobby had come into their lives. Only when he had known, deep down, that she'd never leave him, had he felt like he could be completely honest with her.

Once the anger and frustration was spewed, their talk drifted to things that more normal men would talk about. Will, too, knew that Jake's children had been born after his accident, and that intrigued him.

"If it's not too personal," he ventured, "how does a man go about getting his wife pregnant ... when he's like us?"

A subject like this might offend most men, but to men who had shared such intimate feelings as these two had discussed for the last couple of hours, talking about sex was light conversation. Jake described how such a thing could be done. He too left it at that, letting Will believe that David and Meredith had come from Jake's ravaged body, instead of the truth. That was partly because it was nobody else's business, in Jake's mind, how Tilly actually got pregnant. But the bigger part was that he wanted Will to think it was possible. From Jake's perspective, while Will might never meet a woman who would be willing to lie with him, if he ever did, he wanted Will to be ready for it.

On the twentieth of December, Bobby parked in front of Prudence and Constance's house and knocked on the door. Constance was ready to go. Prudence kissed them both on the lips and told them to be careful, because snow was in the forecast.

They hadn't seen each other for a while, so they spent the hours on the road to Kansas City catching up. Constance told him about her job, and he talked about the musical he was helping with.

They had always had the unique capacity to be together without saying anything for long stretches, and for that not to be awkward, and that happened for a while, at one point. It was Constance who broke that silence.

"I still miss him," she said softly.

"I know," he said. "You always will."

"I feel like that's holding me back," she said.

"You met somebody interesting?" he asked.

"No," she said. "Not like you're thinking. But I feel like I'm just walking around in circles. I need to move on."

"I agree," he said.

"Thank you," she sighed. "I feel guilty about wanting to move on."

"Tim loved you more than life itself," said Bobby. "I know he'd want you to be happy, even if it means you end up with another man."

"It's a little premature to think about that," said Constance.

"Why?" he asked. "You're as beautiful as ever. You're still young."

"And you still have that silver tongue that made me want to kiss you," she said. She was quiet for another minute or two. "That seems like it was decades ago."

"Well, any time you want another kiss," he said, "feel free to tell me. I liked kissing you too, even if it is ancient history." He grinned.

He took her to the Nutcracker. It was her first ballet and it wasn't anything like she'd imagined it would be. She'd accepted primarily because she liked being with Bobby, but when it was over she was ebullient in her praise. They had held hands for the whole event, which was probably good, because there were times when she wanted to lean forward and grip the seatback in front of her because of the overflowing emotions that the music caused in her.

The production ended late, and they started back in the dark. They talked about the show for a while, and then Constance lay down, curling up to fall asleep, her head on Bobby's lap.

There was other emotion that raced through female bodies, the evening of the twentieth of December that year. That happened in the farmhouse that was the Dalton residence.

It happened at an unlikely time ... dinner time, and it happened without warning, at least to the twins. It was in the middle of the meal when, without prelude, Mirriam spoke.

"When were you two planning on telling me you're pregnant?" she asked. Her tone of voice was as if she'd asked if there were any more beans in the bowl.

Twin faces showed twin shock, in twin fashion.

"Did you think I wouldn't know?" asked Mirriam, reaching to cut up Theodore's meat so he could fork it into his mouth.

"Mamma ..." said Matilda, weakly. She was at a complete loss for words.

"How far along are you?" asked Mirriam, her voice still neutral.

She waited, letting the silence stretch, making them say something to fill the void. Betty was the first to break.

"Two months," she almost whispered.

"And you haven't been to the doctor?" Mirriam's voice took on more of an edge.

"No." It was delivered in stereo.

"You two work with babies," said their mother. "You know how important prenatal care is."

"Yes, Mamma." That was also said in tandem.

"Who is the father?" asked Mirriam. She couldn't explain it, but she had a gut feeling that it was the same man. Perhaps it was the fact that both of them apparently got pregnant in the same timeframe.

When their eyes went to Theodore, Mirriam's other hunch was validated. If it was the same man, and if it happened at the same time ... well, she knew when they were dating ... and when they weren't. And there was plenty of history that had repeated itself.

"Did you do this on purpose?" she asked, not requiring them to admit to the man responsibility for their condition.

"No!" That, again was said at the same time, in the same tone of voice.

"Would you two please stop doing that?" Mirriam frowned. "It's distracting!"

"Okay, Mamma," they said together.

Mirriam went on helping Theodore, who had picked up the electric atmosphere in the room, and was looking around, like he was trying to figure out what was happening.

"What are you going to do?" asked Mirriam.

Neither girl said anything.

"How could you have been so stupid?" she asked, her voice rising for the first time.

Theodore stiffened, and his face wrinkled up. He knew that tone of voice, and he didn't like it. Mirriam saw it, and made herself calm down.

"It's okay, darling," she cooed to the little boy, stroking his head. He relaxed. She turned to her daughters. "All you had to do was ask me to put you on the pill."

Their mother had just used language that suggested she could ... and should ... still exercise parental control over them. That the twins, who were adults, didn't resent that, would have been interesting to a social scientist. The fact was, though, that they still felt like their mother's little girls sometimes.

Again Mirriam made them respond, by letting the silence linger.

"We couldn't just come to you and ask for that," said Matilda, finally.

"Why not?" asked Mirriam. "You certainly had plenty of reason to know what can happen when you let a man between your legs."

"Mamma!" said Betty, who was shocked for some reason.

"I suppose you want to stay here, and live with me," said Mirriam, her voice rough again.

Both girls blinked. It was almost eerie how tears filled both sets of eyes at the same time.

"It's just like youngsters to think they can go do something stupid, and that Mamma will bail them out!" she barked. Her anger was generalized, spread over both girls, and Bobby, and herself for not paying more attention. She had failed to learn from history too.

There was a spark of independence in Matilda, and her mother's obvious condemnation brought it out.

"Did you do something stupid too, Mamma?" she asked. "Are you sorry he got you pregnant?"

Mirriam saw Matilda's eyes go to Theodore again, and she felt her stomach clench up. Matilda's phrasing made it clear she knew who Theodore's father was. Of them all, she had hoped the twins hadn't figured it out. Obviously she had been wrong. She still didn't know they had seen Bobby on top of their mother, plunging the same penis into her that had made them both pregnant.

Mirriam was pragmatic. That was what had helped her survive on the farm. She shook her head.

"No, I'm not sorry," she said. She looked at Theodore and leaned over to kiss him. "I'll never be sorry," she added.

"I don't want to be sorry either," said Matilda.

"Me neither," said Betty.

Mirriam sighed. At least they hadn't said it at the same time.

His mother was waiting up for him when he got home. That, in itself, was unusual these days. The look on her face told him she wasn't happy.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I found out why the twins have been acting like they have the vapors," she said.

He relaxed. That didn't have anything to do with him.

"And?" he asked, falling into the pit he still didn't know was there.

"They're pregnant ... Robert Jordan!" she snapped.

Bobby was also pragmatic.

"Both of them?" he asked.

"Don't you try and sound surprised!" she said.

"I thought they were on the pill," he said.

"Did you ask them if they were on the pill?"

"We talked about it ... how they needed it," he said, looking confused. "Then one night Betty said it was okay to ... well, you know ... and so I thought ..."

"You didn't think, Bobby," said his mother, standing up. "You didn't think when you got the rest of them pregnant either!"

"I didn't get Flo pregnant," he complained. "And Suzie. I don't even do it with Suzie."

"Well thank goodness for that!" moaned Mirriam, theatrically. "It's nice to know that one of my daughters can resist a man!"

"Come on, Mamma," he said, taking a step toward her. She held up her hands and stepped away from him.

"Don't you come over here and try to sweet talk me," she said. "That's not going to work tonight. At least with the others they had prospects for marriage. The twins don't. I knew this ... this ... this hunger inside you would cause trouble. I saw it in Joe, and I couldn't resist him. I knew it was in you too, when I couldn't resist you. Bobby, you have to stop! I love you. I couldn't bear it if something happened to you, like it did to him."

Her eyes teared up, and she didn't see him move toward her again until it was too late. She stiffened and resisted, but his arms were too strong.

"I don't know how to stop, Mamma," he said into her hair. "It just happens. I know I'm like Joe, sometimes, but I'm different too. I don't go where a man might take killing offense. Sometimes I help women, Mamma. I know that's no excuse, but I know that happens sometimes."

His arms were just holding her, and she relaxed, finally.

"You're going to have to help them," she said. "The twins, I mean."

"I will, Mamma," he said. "You know I will."

"You need to stop doing this, Bobby," she moaned into his chest. "You need to find one woman to cleave to."

"I hope I do find her," said Bobby. "I haven't yet ... but I hope I do."

Mirriam had pushed him away, finally, and told him to go to bed. She told him the twins were already in bed asleep, and to be quiet.

She was wrong. They had waited up too.

They'd had three hours to sit on Bobby's bed, the bed they both decided they got pregnant in, and talk about things since they had come out into the open.

Their initial anger at Bobby, for getting them pregnant, faded. They both knew it was as much their fault as his. That simple "conversation" with their mother had altered the way they looked at things. They had gone from "I'm pregnant, and I have to hide it," to "I'm going to have a baby!" That their future in this house was no longer a big blank question mark helped too.

Now their natural progression of emotional involvement with their pregnant bodies moved into another phase. They were both excited about this new thing they were going to do, and at the same time, scared to death. Their relationship with their mother was still strained. That strain would fade away in the coming days, and life would become much less tense for them then, but right now, the only real emotional anchor they had to deal with the fear they felt was the man who had gotten them into the situation they were fearful about.

So they waited for Bobby while they talked.

When he got there, he faced a range of emotions that covered the whole spectrum, though most of it was fleeting, such as the anger and blame. What they needed was to feel loved and secure. Of all the emotions thrown at him when he walked into his room, he preferred making them feel loved and secure too, so it worked out.

They didn't make love that night, but both women slept naked with him, pressing their pregnant bellies to his sides, their arms draped over him and touching each other.

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