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 Nineteen

The adrenaline was leaching out of the systems of most of them. Erica was no different. She felt weak and tired. She'd been separated from Will by the well-wishers. She could see him across the room, surrounded by boys. Jake and Tilly had already left. Someone sat down next to her and she turned her head to see Christy Brown. Erica had seen her sitting with Bobby earlier. They had been eating and talking.

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

When Christy had worked up the courage to go talk to Erica, Bobby got up and wandered over to sit with Will. He had no idea how Erica would react to what he suspected Christy was going to tell her, but if it wasn't a good reaction, maybe he could defuse it. He hadn't had a chance to talk to Erica about what had happened the night before. He knew she was worried about it, but he was pretty sure he could convince her not to be. He didn't know how much he'd have to tell her about himself to convince her, though. He regretted what he had said. It had been an impulse, and he should have controlled it. It was really none of his business. She was so abrasive, though, that he hadn't been able to resist taking a little jab at her. He felt bad about that now, but it was too late.

He couldn't sit beside Will. There were several boys in those spots, so he sat as close as he could, and looked over at Erica and Christy. Neither was stiff. They were talking and their body language looked normal to his eyes.

"I like your brother," said Christy.

That statement can be taken on several levels. Both women knew, though, that the "like" that was used in this case meant much more than casual acceptance of a person as a friend. Had it been earlier in the night, her reaction might have been completely different, but Erica was drained now.

"Why?" she asked. It was, in fact, the most important question in her mind.

"I don't really know," said Christy. "It's a little confusing for me. I think he's brave, for one thing. I just know I feel a pull towards him."

"Is it pity?" asked Erica. "Because if it's pity ... he won't take that."

"He said the same thing," said Christy. "It's not pity. I'm attracted to him. I'm sorry for what he's had to go through, but I don't feel sorry for him. Does that make sense?"

Erica grappled with that, because she realized she did feel sorry for him. The way Christy had said it, that felt wrong somehow. She remembered the photographs. Those photographs had told Erica things that the casual observer wouldn't necessarily know. Will had let this woman see his naked chest and for that to have happened, he would have had to feel comfortable. She couldn't envision him doing that any other way. That meant that he liked this woman. And now, Christy was saying she had feelings for Will too. As completely unlikely as Erica thought it was that anything could come from it, she couldn't take that away from him.

She felt like something precious was being ripped from her as she thought about Will being drawn to this woman. It was at that point that she realized she was jealous. She had seen it in other women ... had scorned those women for letting a man take such control over them that they'd act that way ... feel that way. The emptiness she felt at the thought of Will going away from her, though, made her understand those women a lot better now.

Still, it was Will who was important here ... not her. She looked over at him and saw Bobby Dalton looking at her. Was he in on this? He'd been sitting with Christy before. He knew about their secret. Had he told her?

"I love my brother," she said, looking at Christy's eyes to see her reaction to that.

She saw only yearning in those eyes. There was no trace of judgment or condemnation.

"I know that," said Christy. "I don't know if he has any feelings for me, but I want to find out ... if I can."

"I saw the pictures you took of him," said Erica.

Christy blushed, for some reason. "I was showing him how to develop film and make prints," she said. "He did all of those himself, except for one."

"He wouldn't have taken his shirt off if he didn't trust you. He's very sensitive about that."

"I could tell it was hard for him," said Christy. "It was hard for me too, but I would never hurt him."

Having identified her jealousy for what it was, and having seen no indication that Christy knew anything about their secret, Erica tried to evaluate what Christy had said. A normal woman was taking an interest in Will. Erica could understand that interest from her own perspective. She loved Will and wanted him to be happy. But she had always loved him. He was her brother, and they had suffered together. What she couldn't figure out was why Christy was drawn to him. But that didn't matter. What mattered was Will's happiness. If a normal woman was interested in him ... that would make him happy ... wouldn't it? Only if it didn't fail.

She didn't know what to do, and she was so tired she didn't want to think about it anymore.

"He's an adult," she said. "You are too. What I think doesn't really matter."

"It does to me," said Christy.

"Well, in that case, I don't know what I think about it," said Erica, a little snappishly.

Christy heard the frustration. But there was no overt objection, so she stood up.

"Then I guess we'll talk about it more when you've figured it out."

Erica watched the woman walk over towards Will. She saw Christy move one teenage boy aside, by pushing him gently, and then lean down to say something in Will's ear.

"I want to spend some more time with you tonight," Christy whispered.

She had approached him from the front, and he had seen her coming. He had seen her move George to one side and, when she bent over to speak to him, he had seen the cleavage displayed when the front of the purple blouse she was wearing obeyed the law of gravity. Her bra was a creamy tan color and was very lacy.

Much can be conveyed by words, almost as much as can be conveyed by body language. But what part does tone of voice play? It's not exactly verbal and it's certainly not non-verbal. It is said that seventy percent of communication in a face to face meeting is non-verbal. So that leaves thirty percent for the spoken part. Sometimes the tone of voice, with its tiny nuances, may account for twenty-nine percentage points. Watching Christy approach had gotten Will's attention. Looking down her blouse had gotten all of his attention. And Christy's tone of voice made it virtually impossible for him to give any attention to anything else at all.

"I have to go, guys," he said, as she stood back up. "It was a great show, and I'm really proud of all of you."

Bobby hadn't heard what Christy said to him, but her body language spoke to him too. He recognized some of that body language as what had been spoken to him in the past, by this same woman. Christy was hot-blooded and he had spent enough time around her to recognize the signs. When she had said she liked Will, she was understating things a bit. He glanced over at Erica, who was sitting, staring at Christy's back.

"Looks like we have time to talk now," said Bobby, sitting down beside Erica. She had watched him come over, but her face had been blank.

"I'm too tired to talk now," she said.

"We need to talk, Erica," he said.

"I know," she responded, watching Christy pushing Will toward the exit. "Thank you for not telling everybody."

"Let me take you home."

"I have my car in the parking lot," she said.

"I know."

She looked at him then. His eyes reminded her of pictures she'd seen of the water in the Bahamas, deep ... blue ... inviting.

"If I spend more time with you, I'll just make a fool of myself again," she said. She believed that was true, even though there was no projected scenario in her mind. She always seemed to make a fool of herself when she was around this man.

"Why are you so afraid of me?" he asked.

A spark of anger ignited, and gave her energy. She sat up.

"I'm not afraid of you!" she snapped. His blue eyes never wavered and she realized she was lying. She slumped. "I don't know why I'm afraid of you," she amended.

Bobby thought he knew. He had seen bits and pieces of Florence in her behavior. Suzie too. But he had also seen some of the signs that Bev and Mary, and even the twins, had exhibited at one time or another. His instinct was simply to explore that, to see if he could identify what she needed. He realized that was a change, because, until recently, he hadn't really cared what she needed. He wondered briefly if the change in his attitude was because he knew Will was sleeping in the same bed with her ... whatever that meant.

"Let me take you home," he said again.

Christy hadn't spoken as she drove Will to her house. He had looked over at her several times. She seemed relaxed and was paying attention to the road. He wasn't sure what to think any more ... wasn't sure he'd heard what he thought he'd heard in her voice.

Then, once they were inside, she got a chair and put it in front of him.

"We need to talk," she said.

"Okay." What else could he say?

"I like you," she said.

"I'm glad." He felt stupid for saying that.

"I think I like you a lot," she said.

"You think?" He wished he'd just stop talking.

"We don't know each other all that well," she said.

"Yeah." That seemed safe enough.

"I need to know how you feel."

This was a conversation Will Bradford was quite sure he would never have. Not in a million years. His mind centered on that.

"This is a conversation I thought I'd never have," he said.

"Well, we are having it," she replied.

"How could you ... like me?" he asked. It was an honest question.

"I don't know," she said promptly. "I just do."

"Even with this?" His right hand went to the scarring on the left side of his face.

"Yes."

He thought about the pity angle. They'd already talked about that. She knew how he felt about that. And she didn't sound like she was full of pity right now.

"Then I feel like I've died and gone to heaven," he said. He meant that too.

She seemed to relax. "Let's save the dying part for later," she said, smiling. "But we need to talk about the heaven part."

"What?" That didn't make any sense.

"I'm a woman. You're a man."

"Tell me something I don't know," he said. He was amazed at how easy it was to talk to this woman.

"Men and women ... when they enter into a relationship ... " She blushed. "Well ... they usually want to ... do things."

Will felt blood rushing to a part of his body that he knew wasn't damaged.

"Oh ... that kind of heaven," he said.

She blushed even more, but held her eyes on his.

"I need to know ..." She did look away now. "I feel bad for asking, but I need to know ... how injured you are." She covered her face with both hands and made a little whining noise.

He waited. Eventually she peeked through her fingers at him.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered. "That was totally uncalled for."

"I'm not that injured," he said softly.

"I feel like such a dufus," she moaned.

"You sure made my day," he said. "That's twice you've made my day."

"Really?" She perked up and her hands came away from her still red face. "When was the other time?"

"When you kissed me last night."

"Oh." She seemed happy.

He slumped. "It won't work, though," he said.

"Why not?" Her voice rose.

"I only have one leg, and one arm," he said, "in case you somehow hadn't noticed."

Christy knew at least five or six ways to make love. She'd learned them all from Bobby, and Will's lack of a leg and hand were the least of her worries. Her worry had been that me night not be able to perform at all. That would have been extremely frustrating for both of them. While his ruined body wasn't a deal-breaker, if she was going to fall in love with another man - and she had those kinds of vibes about Will - she wanted to be able to love that man in all ways.

"You let me worry about that," she said. Then she blushed again.

"I've never met a woman like you," sighed Will. "This is all like a dream."

"I'm sorry to push you like this," said Christy. "But I really like you ... and I just wanted to make sure that if this really does work out, that we could both be happy."

"If I was any happier, they'd take me off to the happy farm," said Will.

Christy tilted her head and surveyed him. He saw something almost feral in her eyes.

"Oh, you're not nearly as happy as I plan to make you," she said.

Nature, as a single concept, is almost unimaginably complicated. We've all heard about the straw that broke the camel's back. Nature is literally filled with examples of that idea. A single raindrop is what sets off a mudslide. A single snowflake is responsible for an avalanche. An ounce of growth is what makes the roots of a tree finally unable to support its weight, and it falls. Very tiny things can make huge differences in nature. And humankind is not exempt.

The combination of tiny things that caused Erica Bradford to let Bobby take her home, resulted in something that, on the grand scale of things, was also tiny. It was just a man and a woman, alone in a house, in a small town, in a state that was tiny when compared to the country, which was only a fraction of the land mass that wasn't ocean on a planet that was one ten-thousandth the size of the star that warmed it. That star was an insignificant part of a minor galaxy that could disappear without an observer a hundred or so light years away even noticing.

There were also small things that affected those two human beings after they got to the house too.

One was that Erica was in no mood to be alone. She knew that if she was, all she'd think about was what Will was doing. Another was that the musical had caused her to establish more relationships in four months than she had entered into in the previous four years of her life. She had grown to like the feeling of being "social." Yet another thing was that she wasn't used to coming home to an empty house.

"Do you want something to eat or drink?" Bobby's question broke into her thoughts. She thought it was odd that it was her house, but he was making the offer.

"No."

She felt like she should resist when he took her elbow and led her to the couch. She stood, looking at him.

"Sit down," he said, his voice soft. "We really need to talk."

"What's there to talk about?" she asked. "You tricked me into revealing that I'm a pervert."

"If you don't sit down, I'm going to touch your breasts again," he said.

She was outraged. But she had gotten to know this man almost better than any other man she'd ever met, and she knew he'd probably make good on his threat. She sat.

"Do you love Will?"

"Of course I love him," she said.

"Do you care what he needs to make him happy?"

"These are stupid questions, Bobby."

"Do you want him to be happy?" insisted Bobby.

"Of course!"

"Then I don't see a problem," he said.

It was quiet for half a minute as she waited for him to go on. When she realized he wasn't going to, her mouth fell open.

"That's it?" she gasped.

"That's it," he said.

"Are you telling me you don't object to me ..." She had been about to say, "sucking my brother's penis?" but chopped that off just in time.

"I'm saying that if your actions are the product of love and caring about Will ... it's really none of my business. It's not anybody else's business either."

"I don't understand!" she moaned.

"I'm trying to apologize to you for ambushing you like that last night. I took advantage of you, and I'm sorry."

Erica realized her mouth was hanging open and she closed it. Her jaw sagged right back down as hope exploded into her brain.

"Doesn't that make you sick?" asked Will, who was panting slightly.

Christy was letting her fingers drift lightly along the scarring that made up the left of his chest, shoulder and the outside of his arm. He was still wearing his pants and was lying on the couch, where Christy had laid him to kiss him some more. She'd kissed his lips, on both sides, and his eyes. She'd licked his lips too, kneeling on the floor beside the couch. Then she'd unbuttoned his shirt and asked him to pull his left arm out of it.

"No," she said softly. "It's part of you. I wish it hadn't happened, but it did, and it's part of you now. If I'm going to be comfortable with you, I need to get used to this."

Her fingers ended up at his stump, and she lifted it to bring it to her lips. She stood.

"You need to get up now," she said.

"What?" He was confused.

"The rest of this needs to be done on a bed."

She got his chair and he moved into it.

"You also need to call your sister and let her know you won't be home tonight," said Christy, bending down to lick his right ear.

The shrill jangle of the phone jarred Erica and she was standing before she realized she even intended to. She moved to it.

"Hello?"

"Erica?"

"Will!" she said excitedly. Then worry hit. Why would he call? "What's wrong, baby?"

"Nothing," he said. "It's just ... well ... how upset would you be if I ... um ... stayed out all night?" His last words were almost too soft to hear.

The hope that had exploded inside Erica collapsed like a star after a nova, forming a small lightless density in her stomach. She had just told Bobby she cared about his happiness, though, and that thought made her speak.

"You're an adult, Will."

"I know," he said. "But I love you. I didn't want you to ... um ... worry."

Being told he loved her helped a little.

"It's okay, baby," she sighed. "Thank you."

"Thank you. I love you. I really mean that."

"I know," she whispered. "I love you too."

"Christy will bring me home in the morning," he said. "But we have to pick up Jillian, so I don't know what time it will be."

"Okay," said Erica.

She hung up the phone. She felt hollow ... empty. She turned. Bobby was still sitting on his end of the couch. He was just looking at her with those deep blue eyes.

"That was Will," she said. "He's staying at Christy's tonight."

"She'll be good to him," said Bobby.

"How do you know?" moaned Erica.

"I know," said Bobby. "I know her very well."

Twin tears rolled out of Erica's eyes. She wondered why she was crying. She felt so helpless ... lost.

"He will always love you," said Bobby, standing up. He came to her and she stood there, immobile as he wiped away the streaks of wetness on her cheeks with his thumbs. "He will never stop loving you, even if he loves another woman too."

Erica could feel the warmth of Bobby's body, radiating toward her. She thought that was a singularly odd thing to notice at this particular point in her life. She wanted to believe him.

"I should go now," said Bobby.

"Go? Why?" asked Erica. "You said we needed to talk!"

"We did," he said. "I apologized and told you not to worry about loving your brother."

"That's it?" she asked again. There had to be more to it than that.

"Is there anything else you want to talk about?" he asked.

There were dozens of things she wanted to talk about, but they were all about unformed nebulous urges, and dreams, and feelings, and she wouldn't know where to start.

"No." Her voice was tiny.

"Then I should go," he said.

"But why?" she whined.

Bobby cocked his head at her and she felt like he was looking through her eyes and into her brain, where her tumultuous thoughts were somehow pinned to the walls of her consciousness where he could wander along and view them at will. She couldn't see them herself, but she felt like he could.

"Because I'm attracted to you," he said. "The things I'd be thinking about if I stayed ... well you wouldn't like them."

The first thing Erica thought about was the image in her mind of that penis poised above her sexual opening, and then nudging between the lips that were somehow open and welcoming. She shuddered and tried to push that thought out of her mind. He turned, and picked up his jacket, which he'd laid on the arm of the easy chair.

"Don't leave." The words left her mouth and she felt faint. Her vocal chords had betrayed her, just like her body had betrayed her before.

He turned. She watched his eyes slide from her face ... downward. She felt her nipples stiffen and the exquisite ache in them that demanded she squeeze them hard. Her hands were halfway to her breasts when she was finally able to stop them.

"I don't want to be alone," she panted.

She wondered why she was panting, and realized she had been holding her breath.

Bobby pulled his eyes back up. She was wide-eyed and looked like she was frozen. She was leaning forward slightly and breathing hard. He knew she wore thick bras, but her nipples were still making themselves known. He recognized the signs, but they didn't fit with what he knew about the woman displaying them. Still ... the signs were obvious. He remembered asking her what she wanted and he remembered her response.

"Do you know what you want yet?" he asked, stepping closer to her.

She blinked. He literally saw tension come into her eyes.

"I don't want to be alone," she said.

He compared her to Amanda, who had let him tie her to the bed, so that she could let things happen that she couldn't enter into "voluntarily." He didn't think that would come anywhere near working with this woman. And if he suggested she tie him up ... he suspected she'd just walk away after she'd done it. No ... this woman ... had to decide what to accept. It was the only way anything would work.

But she didn't appear to be able to make any decisions ... other than with her brother.

"I don't think this will work, Erica," he said softly.

"Why?" she moaned. "I just don't want to be alone. Why won't that work?"

"Because you want more than that," he said. "You want Will to be here. That's what you need."

"No," she whispered. "That's not true."

"Yes it is," he insisted. "But Will isn't here ... I am, and I'm not what you need."

"No!" Her voice was louder and she shook her head back and forth, almost violently, like a little girl throwing a tantrum.

His hand came to her chin and he grabbed it, stopping her. She tensed.

"Listen to me," he said. "Right now your nipples are tingling. You feel all jumpy. You want to be touched." He knew he was guessing, but he was also experienced in these things.

Her eyes widened. "How can you know that?" she whispered.

"You're a woman, Erica," he said. "I know you want to be liberated and strong, but your body ... your biology ... it wants things too. It doesn't mean you're weak. It doesn't mean there's anything wrong with you. It's just nature demanding to be part of your life."

He let go of her chin.

"I'm just not the right man to tend to that biology. And if I stay here, I'll want to. I'm a man, Erica, and I have the same urges you're feeling. You're beautiful. You're passionate. You are strong and that attracts some men."

The things he was saying were like a flail to her passions, whipping them up into a frothy frenzy. No man had ever said those kinds of things to her in that way. He had drawn her attention to her nipples and they were killing her now. This time she couldn't stop her fingers from rising to squeeze the points. She stared into those awful, but beautiful, blue eyes, knowing that he couldn't help but see what her hands were doing, even though his eyes didn't move at all. Men had lusted after her for years. It had made her skin crawl ... until now. This was different. She closed her eyes and then opened them again instantly as the vision of that penis pushed deeper between her sexual lips.

"I think I'm going crazy!" she moaned.

"You're not crazy," he said. His eyes dropped to her fingers, which were still squeezing and trying to pull, even though the bra prevented that. "You're just horny, Erica. That's all it is."

"That's all?!" she moaned. "I'm feel like I'm going to explode, Bobby!"

"What did you do before Will got here?" he asked. "When you felt like this?"

Two things suddenly registered in her mind when he asked that question. The first was the oddity of the question itself. It was an amazingly intimate thing to ask. The second thing she realized was that Bobby Dalton wasn't acting like a man at all. He knew how she was feeling, somehow, but he didn't press her ... attempt to subdue her. He didn't try to take advantage of her, manipulate her into something. He was exerting control, even though he had admitted he didn't want to. That demanded that she do the same thing. She took a deep breath and let go of her nipples like they were hot coals.

"I never felt like this before Will," she panted.

He looked surprised. "Surely ... as a girl ... there were boys ..." He seemed to flounder.

"No!" she said. "I knew what the boys wanted, but I couldn't stand the thought of that."

"You never masturbated?" He sounded like he couldn't believe it.

She felt heat of a different kind suffuse her face. She couldn't believe he'd said that. Who WAS this man?

"You can't ask a woman that kind of thing!" she moaned.

"I'm trying to help you," he said.

"By asking me about masturbation?" she squealed.

"I don't know a single woman who hasn't masturbated," he said, as if he were saying he didn't know a single woman who didn't wear shoes. "If you've never done that, you're the first woman I ever met who didn't."

Confusion brought her more control and she no longer felt like she was going to collapse. This conversation was so strange, and this man was acting so differently than she expected that she had no idea what to say next.

"If Will isn't here, that's what you really need to do," he said, his voice maddeningly calm. "I could teach you, if you want me to."

She blinked. His voice sounded completely genuine. He was actually offering to help her learn how to masturbate! It was so ludicrous that her barely controlled emotions found a surprising outlet when she giggled, and then honked two or three times, as she tried to stop the laughs. That was hilarious to her and she gave up. Belly laughs made her bend over in an unconscious attempt to draw more air into her lungs, so she'd have enough to keep laughing. It didn't work and she felt light-headed enough that she just sat down on the floor and laughed until her stomach hurt enough that it tapered off. She looked up to see him staring down at her. That seemed funny too, but she repressed the urge to start up all over again.

The laughter had drained her, and she felt limp and tired again.

"I've masturbated before," she sighed. "Help me up."

He reached for her hands and she practically flew up, to land on her toes. The tips of her breasts pressed against his chest briefly and she rocked back onto her heels, only inches from him.

"Why didn't you say so?" he asked, almost like he was pouting. "That's what you need to do. Don't make the mistake of doing something with me that you'll regret tomorrow. We're almost friends and it's been a long haul to get this far. I don't want to have to start all over."

She'd never stood this close to a man for this long. The unease she expected to feel was lacking though, and she didn't move. Her mind was tired, but her thoughts were clearer now. As he said that, she heard a man who cared about how she felt. That was obvious. It felt strange to hear that and something in her mind whispered that she might have been able to hear that before now, if she hadn't kept men at arm's length. Her sorting mechanism clicked at that point in time. It had been spinning, like a wheel of fortune, skipping past the pegs that were the men she came into contact with. As that wheel finally slowed and stopped, the pointer quivered ... and landed on the man standing in front of her, only inches away.

"You have no idea what I need," she said, her voice clear.

"You don't either," he shot back.

"Do you want to kiss me?" she asked.

He blinked. "Yes," he said after a brief hesitation.

"Why haven't you tried to kiss me then?" she asked.

"Maybe you are going nuts," he sighed. "I don't even have permission to touch you, much less kiss you."

She was amazed as what he said brought back the urge to squeeze her nipples again, almost instantly. The thought of a man asking permission ... she wanted to giggle again.

"You touched me last night," she pointed out.

"You were suffering from hypothermia," he said. "I kind of figured you might forgive me for that."

"I forgive you for that," she said. "You threatened to touch my breasts again ... just a little while ago."

A wary look came into his eyes. Her behavior had changed very quickly and the signs she was now exhibiting were mixed.

"It seems like the only thing that will really get your attention sometimes," he said carefully.

"I am stubborn sometimes," she admitted. "Okay, I forgive you for that too."

"What are you doing?" he asked carefully.

"I don't know," she answered instantly.

She was surprised that it didn't upset her anymore. He was right. She didn't really know what she wanted from this man. With Will, she knew. But not with Bobby. She didn't know what would happen ... what she would do ... what he would do. What comforted her about that was that she also realized that she wasn't afraid of Bobby any more.

"I have dreams about you," she said, looking into those blue eyes, which weren't so awful any more.

"What kind of dreams?" he asked.

"The kind of dreams I don't think I'm supposed to have," she said calmly.

"You know something?" he asked. "You are a very strange woman."

She smiled. "I was thinking the exact same thing about you."

"I'm a very strange woman?" He smiled too.

She poked him in the stomach with one extended finger. His stomach felt like a board.

He poked her back, in her ribs, just below her left breast.

Her eyes widened and she poked him again, trying to make a dent in that hard stomach.

He tickled her in response.

Both of her hands came up and made claws. They gripped his sides and she tried to squeeze.

His hands went to her breasts and cupped them, lifting them, with his fingers on the insides and his thumbs on the outsides.

She froze, her hands still on his shirt, and looked down. As she watched, his fingers squeezed gently and his thumbs moved over the surface of her shirt to rub across the bumps that were her nipples.

She looked up at him. Suddenly, his eyes were deep enough to fall into and never come back from. His face was getting closer to hers, and she knew he was going to kiss her.

She closed her eyes.

<< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >>