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 Twenty-six

Erica thought she was being artful. When Bobby came on the line, she told him that part of the railing on the ramp had cracked and he needed to come take a look at it. She didn't tell him, of course, that she'd had to throw all her weight at the railing ... several times ... to get something to break. She'd done it at night, when the neighbors couldn't see her.

She couldn't admit that she just wanted him. Not on the phone. She wasn't even sure she wanted him. But she was full of nervous energy again, like she'd been before. She knew Will would make love to her if she asked him to, but she thought of him more and more as Christy's man. No one must ever find out about her and Will, because that would ruin it for him with Christy.

Besides, Bobby was a different kind of lover than Will. Bobby knew how to make her insane with pleasure. It was those thoughts that made her find a way to get him to her house again. Then, maybe when she could see him, she'd know whether it was him she wanted, or something else. She hoped it was something else. She didn't know what she'd do if, when she saw him, she got "that feeling." She knew that if she had to admit to the man who had made her pregnant that she craved his touch again ... well, she'd just die. She was sure of it.

She saw the truck pull up and Bobby get out. He walked right up to the broken support and looked at it. Then he looked at the window, for some reason, and then back at the support. He shook his head and came to the front door.

She expected him to knock again, like he did last time, but he didn't. He just walked in. She stood there wide eyed as he looked at her.

"If you wanted me to come over, all you had to do was tell me," he grumbled. "You didn't have to vandalize my work."

"I need you!" she blurted.

"I can see that," said Bobby.

"I'm sorreeee," she moaned.

"C'mere," he said, holding out his arms.

She was almost crying when he enfolded her in his arms.

"Hey," he said into her hair. "It's no big deal."

"Yes it is," she said into his chest. "I feel like such a fool."

"You know what your problem is?" he asked.

She could think of a dozen things, but she said "No," instead.

"You're all wrapped up with trying to be who you think you're supposed to be instead of just being yourself."

"What do you mean?" she asked, still pressing her face to his chest. He smelled good, like ... Bobby.

"Do you like me?" he asked.

"Why are you asking me that?" she moaned.

"See there?" he asked, rubbing her back. "I know you like me, Okay? I know it and you know it, so why can't you just say it? I'll tell you why you can't say it. You think you're not supposed to like me, am I right?"

"Maybe," she said softly.

"So, instead of just being yourself and saying 'Bobby I'm horny, come take care of me,' you play this game of some sort that supposed to make you feel better. But it doesn't. Am I right about that?"

"Yes," she said, her voice muffled.

"Erica?"

"What?"

"I'm sorry I got you pregnant, but right now I want you so bad it really hurts. I'm stiff for you. I want to hear you have an orgasm and I want to know I gave it to you."

"Ohhhhhhh," she moaned into his chest. No man had ever talked to her like that ... that explicitly. Before, if a man had said something like that she would have slapped him. But now ... it made her panties wet. Well, it would have made her panties wet if she'd been wearing any. She had nothing on under her robe.

"See?" he said. "How hard was that? I just said how I feel. Maybe you'll be happy about that and maybe you won't, but at least you know where I'm coming from."

"Tell me more," she said, her voice high.

Bobby had felt her relax against him when he told her he wanted her. She hadn't tensed. He thought about Amanda again, who had wanted him, but couldn't admit it either. He still couldn't use ropes on Erica. He thought about her reaction to his words and got an idea. He didn't know if it would work or not. On the bright side, it wouldn't take long to find out.

"You want me to tell you what I want to do?" he asked.

That was apparently too direct, because she didn't answer. She just hugged him harder.

"I want to see your fabulous breasts," he said. He waited to see if she tensed. When she didn't, he went further. "They're the most fabulous breasts I've ever seen. I could sleep on them. I want to suck your nipples and listen to you have an orgasm."

"Mmmmmmm," she mumbled into his chest.

"And then I want to squeeze them, the way you like it so much, squeezing until you almost scream."

"Nnnnngg," she groaned.

"And while you're cumming, I want to slide my prick into your slick pussy until it comes out your mouth. I want to fuck you, Erica."

She looked up then. Her eyes were hot.

"Fuck you, Bobby Dalton," she said, her voice husky. "You bastard. You manage to tear down every wall I build up. Nobody's ever talked to me like that in my whole life. And what pisses me off the most is that I'm dripping wet right now, because of it. So fuck you, Bobby."

He picked her up. She squealed and wiggled, but had no chance to escape. He took her to her bedroom and dropped her on the bed.

"If you don't want that robe torn apart, I suggest you take it off," he said, unbuttoning his shirt.

"Bobby!" she complained.

"Do you want me?" he asked.

"Yes!" she screamed. "There! Are you happy now?!"

"Very," he said. "In fact, you made my day. Now ... I'm going to make yours."

She barely got her robe off before he was on her like a lion on a lamb. He was rough, but didn't hurt her. He growled a lot. He practically attacked her breasts, and she squealed as he sucked one nipple and squeezed the other, just like he'd said he wanted to do.

She came within a minute.

He wasn't finished, though. From there, after her first orgasm, he forced apart legs she tried to keep together and then entered her in one long lunge that took her breath away. Then he pounded her, making her breasts jump and wiggle like Jell-O in an earthquake. He pushed so hard, going in, that she felt herself moving toward the headboard.

Erica found out something else about herself that she hadn't known.

She liked rough sex.

He was clearly dominating her this time. That was plain to her. But the intensity of his passion, the way he seemed to almost lose control, the fact that she had driven him to this display of raw male sexuality sent streaks of something through her body that felt, amazingly, like power. She had called him and he had come at her call. He was a magnificent male in the prime of his life. He wasn't with some other female. He had ignored the other women he could have been with and was devoting himself completely to her.

The orgasm she had while thinking these things was only partially physical. Her mind and body had been joined, and her pleasure was exponentially greater.

He seemed to understand how she could both want and resist this domination of her body. After she screamed through that orgasm, he slowed to give her time to breathe, before pressing himself deep and staying there to rotate his loins and make her cum again. In the middle of that orgasm, he spurted in her.

He rolled them both over, still in her, and held her tight against him as they caught their breath.

"You made a baby in me," she said into his chest.

"I know," he said into her hair. "I'm sorry ... but I loved every second of it."

"I'm going to be a mommy," she said.

"You'll be a wonderful mommy," he said, stroking her back. "I'm proud our daughter will have such a strong mother and good role model."

She snorted into his chest. "I'm neither strong nor a good role model," she grated. "I let you get me pregnant and I'm here with you right now. Both of those are because I'm weak."

"Is being fully a woman weak?" he asked. "I don't think so. Being a mother is neither easy nor glamorous, but it's the most important job in the whole world. It takes a real woman ... a strong woman ... to be a good mother. I think you are both."

"You're just trying to butter me up so you can fuck me again," she moaned.

"Based on tonight, I suspect I'll get to fuck you again anyway," he said.

She pulled back and looked up at his face. "Sometimes I hate you."

"I know," he said. "You're a little difficult to get along with too, every once in a while."

When he was hard again, she rode him. She did that languidly, just enjoying the feeling of his hard prick rubbing inside her. She didn't try to lean forward to get her clit involved. Again, he somehow seemed to know she was just playing and left her nipples alone. That lasted ten minutes, then changed as he started talking again. He reached for her breasts and pushed them together.

"These are the gorgeous breasts that will feed my daughter," he said. He ran his thumbs over the nipples. "She'll suck these beautiful nipples and will get delicious milk from them. I will too."

Erica shuddered. She thought that was just nasty, but it sent a thrill through her too and she sped up unconsciously.

"You'll do this after she's born," he said. "You'll ride me like this and your nipples will leak and drip warm milk onto my chest. I'll suck them while you fuck me."

"Ooooooo," she moaned, leaning forward.

"Like this," he said, lifting his head to capture a nipple. He sucked hard.

"I don't like yoooooou," she groaned, feeling an orgasm rushing toward her. She leaned forward more and pushed her belly forward so that her clit got involved.

He let go of that nipple and licked the other one.

"And if you're not on the pill by then," he said, "I'll spurt in you and make a little brother for our daughter."

"I hate you, Bobby Dalton!" she groaned, as the orgasm burst through her loins and made her go rigid.

He rolled and she cried out as the ecstasy she was in the midst of was threatened. But he pushed in deep as she settled onto her back, with his weight pinning her to the bed, and it came back to make her scream again.

"No you don't," he breathed into her face.

Then he spurted in her again.

"If you weren't already pregant," he whispered, "I'd be trying to make you that way right now."

When he got up to leave, the next morning, Erica pulled the covers back over her. It was Saturday and she didn't intend to get out of bed, maybe until after lunch. She had gotten a little sleep ... but only a little. She had also given up trying to pretend she didn't need Bobby Dalton in her life. He leaned down to kiss her gently, once he was dressed.

"You're right," she said into his lips.

"About what?"

"I don't hate you."

"I know," he said.

"Let's not wait so long until next time," she suggested.

"How about twice a week?" he asked.

"I think that's a good plan," she sighed.

Agatha's hand was shaking so badly she could barely dial the phone. When the ring sounded in her ear, she felt like she might throw up.

"Hello?"

It was him! That deep voice had to be him. She knew there was only one man living out there on that old farm.

"Y-y-yes," she stuttered.

"Hello?"

"M-m-mister Dalton," she forced out.

"Yes, this is Bobby."

"M-m-my floor squeaks," she gasped.

"That's too bad," said the calm voice in her ear. "I'm sure that's very annoying."

"Can you f-f-fix that?"

"I don't know," he said. "It will depend on why it's creaking and how hard it will be to get access to the underside of the floor."

"I need ... an estimate!" she barked, finally remembering what she was supposed to say.

"I'd be happy to take a look at it. Who is this?"

Terror gripped her. On pure will power alone she managed to clear her throat and gasp into the phone: "Agatha Roberts."

"And your address?"

A strange, almost surreal calm descended on Agatha. This was the final step. She'd have to tell the pervert where she lived. But it was all for a good cause. Her voice was surprisingly firm.

"625 Madison," she said.

"I have some time this afternoon," he said. "Is that too soon?"

Her calm was instantly displaced, as panic gripped her. Today!? Right now?!

"All right," her voice cracked.

She'd had to sit down, because her knees wouldn't support her as she hung up the phone. Then, fearing he might be there any second, she jumped up and ran to her bedroom. She pulled off her dress and got her special dress out of the closet.

She took the time to look in the mirror. She saw a white face, with huge eyes staring back at her, above a plain white bra and the slip. Her hair had a permanent wave in it. All it would need was a quick brushing.

She let the scandalously daring blue dress fall past her head and put her arms in the sleeves. Then she looked in the mirror again. Her slip showed, so she tried tugging it up. It was much too long. Of course that was because the blue dress was much too short. It almost showed her knees. She had to roll the waistband of the slip, lifting the dress to reach it. When she let it drop the slip didn't show, but now there was a round line that went around her waist.

She reached under the dress again and removed the slip. Maybe she'd have time to hem it. She looked in the mirror again. The pockets were right on the tips of her bosom and the white pearl buttons looked, to her, like caricatures of nipples, though they were much too high. Still, she was sure they would draw his eyes. She blushed as she saw fully four inches of skin exposed by the neckline.

Her face looked so pale against the vivid blue of the dress. She was sure she didn't have time to apply makeup. She used it rarely. She didn't want to look like a tart, though the dress already suggested that. She decided that a touch of lipstick would help. She chose her usual sedate red.

She needed to get the slip fixed. She could put on panty hose later, when she changed shoes. To that end she kicked off the shoes she was wearing and almost ran to the sewing room. She'd just gotten the machine threaded when the doorbell rang.

She froze.

It took the doorbell ringing again to get her moving. She left the slip there. There was nothing she could do about it now. She felt almost naked going to the door without her slip and panty hose, but there was nothing she could do about that either. She was blushing furiously as she opened the door.

She looked up. She didn't remember him being this tall. His smile looked so genuine too!

"Hi, Mrs. Roberts. I'm Bobby Dalton." His smile faded. "I was sorry to hear about Harry. I offer my condolences."

Harry had died three years ago. "You knew him?" she almost gasped.

"We were at a city council meeting together," said Bobby. "Back when they were arguing about whether we needed a stop light on First and Main or not. I didn't really know him. We just talked a little bit there. He seemed like a good guy."

"Oh," she said weakly. Harry had been a penny pincher and that translated to how his taxes were spent too. He'd been opposed to the traffic light.

"You have squeaks?" prompted Bobby and she realized she'd just been standing there thinking.

"Yes," she squeaked. It was all she could get out. She reached deep within her and wrested some measure of control from somewhere. "I'll show you the floor."

Agatha looked at her Bulova watch. She was astonished to see that only fifteen minutes had passed before the man had walked back out her door. She stood there, in her alluring dress, and wondered what had gone wrong. He'd been polite. He'd been efficient. He'd explained that, since there was a basement and he could get to the underside of the floor easily, he'd try a home remedy first. He'd gotten into a tool bag she hadn't even seen him bring in and pulled out a bottle of baby powder, of all things. Then, while she moved her feet around on the floor, making it squeak, he'd gone downstairs.

While she had moved her feet back and forth, the squeak had lessened and then stopped completely. When he came back, he explained that he'd squirted the baby powder into the cracks between the boards. He was covered with a light film of the stuff and he smelled good.

He'd asked if there were other places and she was so flustered that he hadn't paid any attention to her dress, or her neckline, or the pockets on the bosom of her dress, that she'd just said, "No."

Then, instead of ogling her, he'd asked if she had anything else that needed fixing, since there was still forty-five minutes left on his minimum charge of one hour. She was so unnerved that he was acting completely normal that again, she just said "No."

He'd thrown her another curve when he said "That's all right. I'll just give you credit. If you think of anything, just let me know and it will be covered until you use up the rest of your time."

She didn't know what to think now. He hadn't acted at all like she thought he would. He hadn't even stared at her bare feet.

She sat down and tried to think.

The 4th of July was always a big day in Granger. The whole town turned out for the picnic and to see the fireworks. Dancing was popular too. It was almost a form of entertainment itself to see the people in the crowded square ebb and flow as the eating gave way to dancing. Young people ran or strolled together everywhere, laughing and shouting, while the adults sat and caught up on things since the last time they'd seen each other.

Agatha sat at her usual table. Gladys and Ethyl were there too, along with ten or fifteen other women of virtue. Some of the husbands were there too, but many were off on errands that seemed to take a long time. Getting watermelon took forever and the ice cream needed checking on every five minutes or so, it seemed.

The current topics of conversation around the tables were universal. One was the Dalton twins, who were both about to burst, their pregnant bellies shamelessly on display. They shouldn't have shown their faces in public, unmarried as they both were. Just as much gossipy uproar had been generated when Christy Brown, who they already knew was a trollop, arrived in the company of two other people who had never attended a town celebration.

The chattering women wouldn't look long at the poor thing who appeared to be escorting Christy Brown, walking in that way that shouted he had a false leg. More than one matron suggested it was in poor taste to appear with that face where people had just eaten. And the man's sister, Bernice's replacement at the school, was there too. Her arrival verified the rumors to those assembled. She was unmarried too, and also showed no shame whatsoever that her belly bulged gently with an illegitimate child under the gaily colored sundress she wore.

Agatha was nervous. She'd thought and thought after that first time she'd met Bobby Dalton face to face. Her convictions about him had returned. She'd called him back to fix a drawer handle that had come loose. She'd gone all the way to Wichita to buy a pair of Bermuda shorts to wear that time, shamelessly showing him her legs.

He hadn't seemed to notice.

She'd tried a third time with the same results. He'd always been prompt and friendly, and never once made any advances of any kind toward her. He always tried to engage her in light conversation, but that was it.

Now she was afraid that if he strolled by, he might acknowledge her ... right in front of her friends.

She still hadn't told any of them about her plan. Her convictions about this man were worn around the edges. He certainly wasn't a cad who preyed on single women at the first opportunity. Admitting that to herself had been a blow. What had almost frightened her was that now ... she was curious about him. There was too much evidence ... too many rumors ... for all of it to be a big mistake. He came from a family with low moral standing. That was simply a fact.

But he didn't act like he came from such a family.

She had no husband to go and fetch her ice cream and none of her friends' husbands had seemed to notice she was there, so she got up to go get herself a bowl. No one seemed to see her leave or at least none asked her where she was going.

She had to go by the bandstand to get to the line of freezers that had all kinds of flavors of homemade ice cream. She stopped when she saw Bobby on the dance floor. He was dancing with that Trimble woman. She remembered then... the Trimble woman had gotten married, finally, somewhat astonishingly to the man who ran the diner. Agatha saw that she was pregnant again. At least this one wouldn't be a bastard.

Bobby saw her staring at them and nodded. Blushing, Agatha hurried off to get into line.

Will was sitting beside Mirriam, who was sitting by Prudence. Sal was sitting on his other side. Jake and Tilly were across the table. It was the first time they'd had a chance to get together with Will since he'd gotten his leg. He was working full time for Christy now and spent most evenings with her or his sister. Their heads had been together a lot. Jake suddenly threw up his hand.

"All right woman!" he said sternly. "I'll ask him. Will that shut you up?"

"Yes," said Tilly, beaming as if he'd just said he loved her.

Jake looked at Will.

"What all was involved in you getting that leg?" he asked.

"Well," said Will, "it was like this ..."

Bobby had been dancing most of the night. He'd danced with his mother and Prudence, of course. Then Linda had asked him to dance and Flo cut in on her. He'd been busy, of late, and hadn't seen much of either of them. Jill had asked him to dance, and then, when Christy brought Will to the floor - their first attempt at dancing together - Jill had abandoned him to go be the woman Will made his mistakes with, so that he would have some practice when he danced with Christy. Christy had objected, but Jill just pushed her toward Bobby. The conversation that went on between the two couples was eerily similar.

"So," said Jill, pressing herself against Will as much as she could with her belly in the way. She held him tightly, to be a stable platform for him to cling to. "Have you asked her to marry you yet?"

Ten feet away it was Bobby who spoke.

"So," he said, holding Christy tight, "when are you going to ask him to make an honest woman of you?"

Will spluttered. He'd become friends with both Jill and Sal, seeing them often. "I know she likes me, but that's kind of a stretch, don't you think?"

Christy didn't splutter. "We've only known each other for four months!" she said.

"She loves you, you idiot," said Jill calmly. "She's absolutely nuts for you."

"Does he know you're pregnant?" asked Bobby.

"Who said anything about me being pregnant?" asked Christy, her voice innocent.

"I know what you look like pregnant ... remember?" Bobby laughed.

"I can't tell him that before ... you know ... he asks me," she said. "It wouldn't be fair to him. It would pressure him."

Twelve feet away Will moaned. "I can't support her!"

"You think she gives a flying hoot about that?" asked Jill. "She loves you! Haven't you heard a word I've said?"

"Go dance with him," said Bobby. "I'll get Jill out of your hair. Just tell him you can't live without him. He'll get the idea."

"Go dance with her," said Jill, maneuvering them slowly closer to Bobby and Christy. "Just ask her. Tell her you can't live without her."

The shuffle took place, and while Bobby tried to get Jill away from them, she tried to get Bobby away from the other couple too.

"How are you?" asked Bobby, sliding his hand up and down her back.

"Fantastic," said Jill.

Bobby looked up to see Agatha Roberts staring at him and Jill. He smiled and nodded. She stiffened and turned to hurry away.

As the song finished, Bobby thought about the woman he'd just seen. He'd thought a lot about her. He knew which side of the tracks she was on when she first called him. He was almost amazed that she would have called him at all. He'd gone out of simple curiosity, in fact.

She'd been terrified of him. He could see that immediately, so he tried his level best to be nonthreatening. It seemed as if she'd decided she'd made a terrible mistake, that first time, sending him away with an attitude of almost frantic desire to get him out of her house.

But then she'd called him back. Twice, in fact.

His radar had blipped then, but he couldn't believe she was interested in him as a man. She was firmly in the camp that would like nothing better if his mother and her friends suddenly had to leave town, never to return.

Still ... she had been without Harry for two or three years now ... and she was still young.

Fireworks exploded in the sky over Granger, Kansas and the eyes of the whole town were upon them. Those fireworks signaled the end of a good day and the end of this part of Bobby's story. Much would still happen in his life, but as I've said before, the telling of this part has been long.

So I'll bring this part of the story to an end, so that a new story can be born, just as the babies cradled in warm comfort inside Betty and Matilda Dalton were about to be born.

The next story will be their birth announcement.

The End

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