The Making of a Gigolo (14) - Erica Bradford

by Lubrican

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Chapter Five

Erica had too much to think about to ask many more questions. So she suggested they get back to work instead. He had again expressed concern about having a doctor look her over, but she dismissed that idea, saying she felt fine and they were already too far behind.

Over the next four hours, they built five frames for the "forest" that was needed, and another long, low frame that would become boulders. Those frames looked odd to her, but when he cut a piece of cardboard and drew branches on it, and irregular shapes that would be painted in shades of green, and then tacked it onto one of the struts coming off a "trunk," she could see that, from out in the audience, it would look much better.

And, as they built, they talked. A lot of it was about how to put things together, and what materials to use. He compared what they were doing to what would be needed to make the other sets, and how different techniques would be used for that. Other talk was about a mish-mash of other things that settled into a conversation such as friends might have. Eventually she felt the need, for some reason, to justify her stance about women's liberation. He wasn't obsequious in his comments. He said what he thought, and they argued about some things. At the same time, whenever she said something he thought was correct, he didn't mind agreeing with her either.

It was inevitable that they touched each other during the process. Most often it was their hands that touched, or shoulders, as they stood side by side, or knelt to pound nails. He stood with her to teach her how to use each power tool, and insisted that she follow rigid safety rules. His fingers on her elbow or wrist were distracting at first, but eventually she stopped noticing that. To her chagrin, she couldn't stop noticing his sweat slickened chest. Even in the much lighter borrowed clothing she was wearing, she continued to sweat, and he insisted that she keep drinking water until she had to leave the stage to go to the bathroom. She was astonished when she returned and he said that was a good sign, and that it showed her body had recovered from her ordeal. He was willing to talk about things that she had thought were totally inappropriate ... but which made sense when she thought about it. She eventually gave up trying to catch him looking at her breasts. She knew he did it, somehow - he'd admitted it - but she could never catch him at it.

The primary thought in her mind, when they finally put the tools away and prepared to leave the school was that she felt pride that she used all the tools without hurting herself.

"That was a good start," he said as they went outside. She had offered to give him his clothes back, and put on her coveralls again, but he'd told her to just bring them back the next time they got together. He put his jacket on over his bare chest before they left the school.

"It was a good start," she said, feeling inordinately proud of herself.

"I think we'll do fine," he said.

She thought about his use of "we" and decided that it was a partnership, of sorts.

"Thank you," she said suddenly.

"No problem."

"I mean for everything," she said, thinking about waking up half naked, soaked in water that he'd poured on her to cool her off.

"Friends take care of each other," he said carelessly.

"It's going to take some getting used to," she said, only half joking. "This having a friend who is a man thing," she added.

"There are probably at least two or three more men out there who could be friends with you," he said.

She looked at him to see if he was smiling ... joking ... but his eyes were on the parking lot, where they were headed. She realized she liked this not having to be on guard all the time around a man. It was very refreshing to be around a man who said what he thought and didn't play all those stupid sexual games.

"I learned a lot today," she said.

"Good." He looked at her and this time he did smile. "We might get this done with you only losing one finger ... two at the very most."

"You're saying I have a lot left to learn," she said. Somehow that didn't bother her as much as she thought it would.

"Of course you do," he said. "But you'll pick it up. You're smarter than the average bear."

She remembered the things he had said about how the flats for the buildings would be built much differently than the trees had been.

"Are you busy tomorrow?" she asked, suddenly.

He looked at her and, somehow, she knew he was thinking about whether she was asking him for a date or not. The bright light that went off in her head at that second did more to expose her preconceptions and stereotypes of men than anything he had said. Before this instant in time, if a man had asked her that question, she would have thought he wanted sex. And yet what she wanted to ask him had nothing whatsoever to do with that. She felt suddenly ashamed that she always assumed men wanted sex.

"It's not for a date!" she blurted.

He shook his head and grinned.

"I just thought we could start on the flats for the village, and I could learn that too," she said weakly.

"Be happy to," he said. "Just call me when you're ready."

When Bobby got home, his mother was banging pots and pans around in the kitchen.

"What's wrong?" he asked, instinctively knowing she was upset about something.

"Your sisters are driving me crazy!" she snarled. "They're acting impossible."

"Matilda's had a burr under her saddle all week," he said. "Maybe they had a fight about something."

"They never fight," said Mirriam. "You know that."

"There's always a first time," he said.

"Well," said Mirriam darkly, "if they keep this up much longer, I'm going to have to do something."

"I'll talk to them," he said.

"You do that," she said, banging another pot. "And tell them they're not too old to spank!"

Bobby grinned, and went in search of the twins.

He found Betty in their room. She was lying on the bed staring at the ceiling. An open book was on the bed beside her.

"Where's Matilda?" he asked, looking around.

"I think she went for a walk," said Betty. "She said something about our tree house."

"It's freezing cold out there!" said Bobby.

"Yeah," she said, disinterestedly.

"When are you going to tell me what's going on?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said. She looked startled and suddenly much more alert. "Nothing's wrong," she lied.

"Mamma's about to go find a switch to take to the both of you," he said. "You need to talk to either her or me about whatever's got you two all messed up."

"I said nothing is wrong!" she objected. She sounded almost scared, though, rather than angry.

"Yeah, well ..." he said. "I'm not buying that, and neither is Mamma, so you two had better decide what you're going to do, cause you're making life miserable for Mamma."

He left before she could respond.

Erica opened her eyes wide in the dark and gasped. The dream had been so vivid! So real! She rolled over and looked at the glow of the alarm clock. She couldn't remember the last time a dream had awakened her in the middle of the night. She rolled back and lay there, remembering the dream.

She had been in the forest, the one they built together. The trees looked so lifelike, but she knew they were just props. He was there too. Her hands had been sliding all over his chest, her fingers flexing as they slid over rippling muscles. He felt so different than when she touched her own soft body. She knew he had touched her too. She knew he had touched her breasts, but she couldn't remember that part of the dream ... what that had felt like.

Her hands came up to those breasts, on the outside of her pajamas. They felt so soft under her hands after the remembered hardness of his chest in her dream. Had it felt like this when he touched them? She couldn't remember!

She felt the shame wash over her as the need arose in her body. She willed her hands to stay on her breasts, but her right hand betrayed her and slid down her body, to go inside her pajama bottoms. She gasped with need as her finger hit slippery skin and then slid into her vulva. Her need drove her to sink that finger into her body, something she tried not to do. When she was younger, she had inserted tampons into that slot, exulting in the fact that she had destroyed her virginity by doing so. No man would "take" her virginity, and she celebrated that each month her body reminded her she was a woman. She resisted using her finger to be a male surrogate too, but this time she needed it.

Her other hand stayed on her breast, and rubbed and squeezed. That was something she'd never done before. She never touched her hated breasts. Now, as her hand bumped into a hardened nipple, she felt zings of pleasure. As her right middle finger jabbed into her vagina, the fingers of her other hand found and squeezed that nipple tentatively. Her body's reaction to that would have shocked her, but she had no time to be shocked as an orgasm wracked her body, stronger than any she'd ever had before. Always before, as soon as she felt those tingles of pleasure ... as soon as she was sure it was enough to take away the yearning, she pulled her fingers away from between her legs. She had never let them stay there to extend the pleasure which she felt so guilty about having.

This time, though, her fingers continued to prod and squeeze and she wrung every bit of exquisite feeling out of the remnants of her dream.

The first thing Erica thought of when she saw Bobby the next day, was her dream. She'd gone back to the farm store, after leaving the school Saturday, and had bought a pair of jeans and a checkered work shirt. She tried both on at the store. A wide leather belt was added, since she couldn't find any jeans that fit both her hips and her waist at the same time.

She was wearing those now, as she walked onto the stage.

"I haven't had time to wash your clothes yet," she said.

"You don't have to. I can do that," he said. "I wash all my own clothes."

Erica added that to the list in her mind that was rapidly becoming quite long ... the list of things about Bobby Dalton that were very different from other men she knew. Now she added that, despite the fact that he lived with his mother, he didn't ask her to do his laundry, but did it himself.

"Well, you'll have to do it later then," she said. "I left them at my house."

"Okay."

Four hours later Erica was feeling positively buoyant. Bobby had designed a double sided flat that was on wheels. One side would have part of the village on it, and the other side would be part of the New York City scene. With four of these, both scenes were covered. Three more just like it would be Ludie's house on one side, the McLaren house on the other. Scene changes would only require that the set be turned a hundred and eighty degrees. When attached to each other with metal pins, the sets would stand alone. The only problem was that it took two strong people to hold one upright, while another panel was attached. It was Erica who solved that problem.

A myriad of ropes hanging from long struts and beams above the stage provided the answer. Each rope went through a pulley, then to a crank in a long row of cranks back stage. A flat could be attached to a rope, which would hold it upright with just one person operating the crank. As they were rolled around, the rope could be tightened or loosened as needed.

That first set was almost completely done, in terms of the frame. It would still have to be covered with canvas and painted. Bobby had suggested she contact the art teacher, to see if there might be any help for the painting from that area.

They still had four more double sided sets to build, but as far as Erica was concerned, astonishing progress had been made and she no longer felt like this was a hopeless enterprise.

What seemed just as important, somehow, was that Bobby Dalton had started teasing her. It wasn't overboard or even obvious. It was in little things he said, about all kinds of things. She remembered teasing from her youth. There was the cruel kind, like when girls whispered "cow" or "mooooo" as she walked by and then laughed. But there was the fun kind, between friends ... that easy way of kidding around that was more intimate than hurtful, even though the same words might be used.

Not that Bobby had called her a cow, or made lowing noises. He had been holding up their first set while she attached a length of rope from one end of the top to another. The rope from the crank would be tied to that. The horizontal rope was attached by simply tying a knot in each end, and then driving a sixteen penny nail through the knot into the top edge of the frame. She climbed a ladder and drove the first nail. Then she had to move the ladder to the other end and do the same thing there. She'd forgotten the hammer, though. For reasons she couldn't explain, she'd walked between Bobby and the flat, which was leaning slightly while he stood, arms raised and pushed against it. Her short stature had made it easy to clear his arms with her head. She didn't even have to duck. But she'd turned sideways to go past him and the tips of her breasts dragged along his stomach, between his ribs and his navel.

"You need to tame those things before they hurt somebody," he said.

She had stopped and turned to stare at him. He had simply grinned, to show he meant no harm. Instead of being offended, though, she teased back.

"I'm not the one with the unruly biological urges that need to be controlled!" She smiled sweetly back at his grin, and then got the hammer went past him on the inside again, going slowly and making sure that her breasts didn't touch him again. She looked up to see him looking down, right at the tips of her breasts.

It was the first time she caught him looking.

The next week went much better for Erica. The kids were ecstatic about the progress that had been made on the sets. Bobby seemed to have a special ability to be able to get them to behave and do what they were supposed to do, at least insofar as the work they did on the sets. While one group of kids worked on another roll-around flat, another unrolled and tacked the canvas to the one she and Bobby had made. Her idea with the rope was proven to work flawlessly when it was time to turn the flat over and do the other side. Jessy Walters cranked the flat upright, and then let it gently down, where the kids attacked the bare side.

Tabitha Jenkins, the head cheerleader, astonished Erica by showing up on Tuesday and offering to paint sets. Erica thought cheerleading was a demeaning pasttime, and that girls who entered into it were generally brainless and useless. But Tabitha turned out to be an artist too. She leafed through the set photographs and soon she was drawing with chalk on the canvas surfaces of the first flat, making it into a huge paint by number project.

As the week passed, three of the four double sided flats were built and the first one was more than half painted. Erica had what seemed like all the time in the world to work with the actors on their lines. She saw Bobby, but both of them were busy most of the time, and there was little talking between them.

On Thursday night, though, he came to find her. She was working on lines with Jessica Flapton, the girl who had recognized and then approached Bobby on that first day and asked him if he knew Misty Compton, the singer.

"I've got a thing this weekend," he said. "I have to fly over to Nashville tomorrow. I won't be back until Monday."

Erica knew enough about him to know that his usual work was always in and around Granger.

"A thing?" she asked.

"I have to go to an awards banquet," he said. "It's a favor for a friend."

Jessica perked up. "Is that for the CMA awards?!"

Bobby's face took on a darker flush.

"I'm not supposed to say," he said.

"You're going with Misty, aren't you!" she whispered excitedly. "She's up for best new artist and you're going to Opryland with Misty Compton!"

Bobby looked around.

"It's supposed to be a secret, Jessica," he warned. "Nobody is supposed to know who I am, okay?" He reached out and took her elbow. "And you need to keep quiet about it, you hear me?"

Her eyes lit up and Jessica crossed her heart with one finger. Then she pantomimed closing a zipper across her lips and followed that up with motions of turning a key on her lips and throwing it away.

She promptly turned and ran, shouting "Christy! Ronnie! Just wait until you hear this!"

Bobby moaned, as Erica looked at him curiously. He looked at her. "It really is supposed to be a secret. She wanted an escort that nobody would know, so that no rumors about anything could get started."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," said Erica.

"She sang at some concerts at the Harvest Festival over in Hutch," said Bobby. "I was kind of her gofer. She might win an award at the Country Music Association awards thing and she asked me to come down there and be mysterious."

"Is this one of your beautiful friends?" asked Erica.

"She is," said Bobby.

Something occurred to Erica just then.

"Speaking of friendship ... I need a favor."

"Name it," he said.

"Tuesday," she said. "My brother is coming to live with me. He was injured in the war and he's disabled. I have to pick him up in Wichita, at the airport. I know he's in a wheelchair, and he's probably bringing stuff with him. I'm not sure I can fit all that much in my car."

"You want me to pick him up?" asked Bobby.

"Well ... no, that's not what I was thinking. I mean I'll go too, but I know you have a truck, and I thought I could put him in my car and you could carry all the stuff."

"Sure, I'll go," said Bobby. "But I have an idea that might avoid having to take two cars. Let me look into it. I'll see you Monday night here, right?"

"Oh yes," she sighed. "It seems like this is my second home now."

"Okay, we can finalize plans then."

Bobby got off his first plane ride and finally relaxed. It had been fun, but it had also been disturbing. He was used to being in control of his own destiny, and while it was fascinating to peer out the little window at the world slowly crawling by so far under him, he couldn't help but think about how heavy the plane was, and how unlikely it seemed that something that heavy could stay in the air.

He had waited for Misty at an airport, holding a sign with her name on it, so he looked for something like that here as he walked out of the door that led to the tarmac below. What he saw was an excited gaggle of people, clustered around Misty, herself. He had to shove his way through the crowd. People almost snarled at him while he did so.

She saw him and waved, at which point everyone turned and the crowd parted like the Red Sea in the story in Exodus. A flashbulb went off.

"Thanks so much, folks!" called out Misty. "I have to go now!"

Fifteen seconds later Bobby was wincing at the grip she had on his elbow as she hurried him along. People were following them.

"I'll have somebody come get your luggage," she said under her breath. "We have to get out of here."

"Why in the world did you come for me yourself?" he asked.

She glanced up at him. "I couldn't wait to see you," she said. "I didn't count on people recognizing me."

They ended up running across the parking lot as she frantically tried to remember where her car was parked. People were still following, though they weren't running. In the car, out on the highway, Misty relaxed.

"Hi!" she said, her voice bubbly. "I'm sooooo glad you came."

"You've been waiting all this time to put me through what you went through?" he asked, smiling.

"What?" she turned puzzled eyes on him.

"You'll notice that I just got here and I have no luggage," he said.

"Oh that," she said, as if it didn't matter. "I told you, I'll have somebody come get your stuff. I just wanted to get out of there before people started getting too weird."

"I still think you could have gotten any of a hundred guys to take you to this thing," he said.

"Yes," she agreed. "But I don't want to do with them what I want to do with you."

"What's that?" he asked, grinning.

She took him straight to her house, which was in a nice neighborhood and looked very fancy to him.

"My mother is visiting friends," she said, as she unlocked the door and took him in. "You'll get to meet her later."

"That's nice," he said.

She turned and threw herself in his arms. Their first kiss lasted a full minute. When they finally pulled their lips apart, she sighed.

"It's a lot better than nice," she said. "I needed her gone."

Ten minutes later Bobby knew why Misty needed her mother gone when they got there. That's because she was naked, straining up at him as he socketed his prick deep in her pussy.

"Ohhhhh fuck, Bobby, I've needed this sooooo much," she moaned.

"You still have that potty mouth, I see," he said, thrusting forward. He felt the tip of his prick push at her cervix and she whined, straining against him.

"Suck my nipples," she panted. "I love it so much when you suck my nipples."

He did, and her pussy muscles rippled around his cock as she came hard. He kept plowing her furrow for a few minutes and then went deep to circle.

"Oh shit yes!" she gasped. "Ohhhhh I loooove that!"

Three orgasms later he was languidly stroking her. He was right on the edge, and wanted to keep going as long as she did. She was panting hard, catching her breath from her last cum.

"I went ... on the pill ... for this," she panted.

"Good," he huffed, kissing her. "I love cumming in you."

"I love it too," she whined. "Cum in me, Bobby. Make me all wet inside."

He did, going deep and feeling the tip of his prick punishing her cervix again as spurt after spurt of his rich, thick semen jetted into her womb.

She was finally satisfied after two hours, eight orgasms and welcoming two loads of what Bobby's balls propelled through his prick. She went from manic to simply elated, as she told him about the plans for the weekend. She wanted to show him everything.

He met her mother, Madge, who looked him up and down thoroughly.

"I've heard a lot about you," said the woman, her face stern.

"I hope it was all good," he said.

"Too good," snorted the woman. "You ain't one of them gold diggers are you?"

Bobby smiled. "No Ma'am," he said. "It wouldn't matter anyway. She won't have me."

Misty grinned.

"Well you shore couldn't tell that by how she acted before you got here," said Madge.

"Mother!" scolded Misty.

"It's high time you thought about getting hitched, girl," said her mother right back.

"We've talked about this a hundred times, Mom. I'm married to my career right now. I'm finally taking off."

"Well it's gonna be mighty lonesome when you land, if you don't have a man around," said Madge.

"Anyway," said Misty, waving a hand. "Bobby has a dozen girlfriends back home in Kansas."

Madge looked Bobby up and down again. "Them's the worst kind. Yore daddy was like that ... a pretty man with his hand up a dozen skirts. He plumb stole my heart, even though I knew that hand of his would stay busy."

"Daddy never cheated on you one time Mamma, and you know it!" said Misty.

"Only because your grandpaw showed him the business end of a double barrel twelve gauge," said Madge. She smiled, a tight little smile.

"Well," said Misty firmly, "I like Bobby just fine, but he hasn't stolen my heart, so you just leave that old shotgun in the closet. He's here just to shake up the press a little bit, and so none of those gold diggers you're so scared of latch onto me."

Madge looked at Bobby. "She's a mite willful, ain't she."

Bobby grinned. "I knew that within ten minutes of meeting her."

He got slapped on the arm for that, and then Misty took him sightseeing. He made their first stop the airport again, and went in for his luggage himself, while she stayed in the car.

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