The Making of a Gigolo (14) - Erica Bradford

by Lubrican

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Chapter Six

The weekend flew by. There never seemed to be enough time to do anything they set out to do, with the possible exception of making love. In fact, that was why there was not enough time to do the other things on her list. She was forever reaching for the front of his pants, putting her mouth by his ear, and murmuring "I'm horny."

She came to his room that night, cautioning him that they had to be quiet so her mother didn't hear and come to investigate, and then made enough noise to wake the neighbors. Madge didn't show up, with or without her father's shotgun, and Misty got fertilized two more times before she went back to her room.

She only had half a day with him on Saturday, because of all the things she had to do to get ready for the CMAs. She couldn't take him with her for that kind of thing, because too many people would see him and want to know things about him.

While Misty was gone, he spent time with Madge, who was making jams and jellies to put up for the winter. Bobby had done plenty of that while growing up and worked alongside her.

"You sweet on her?" asked the woman at one point.

"It's not like that," he said. "It's hard to explain."

"You're the one that made a woman of her, ain't you," said Madge, looking steadily at the pot of strawberries she was stirring on the stove. "She left here a girl and came back a woman. A mother can tell, you know."

"We like each other a lot," he said, trying not to answer the question.

She sighed. "I don't understand younguns these days," she said.

"I'm not sure we understand ourselves," he said softly.

Madge changed the subject then. When the jams and jellies were all put in jars and sealed, she excused herself to go get ready for the award banquet herself.

The awards themselves were grueling for Bobby. Everyone was intensely interested in him, dressed to the nines in a tuxedo. Misty had told no one who the man was escorting her to the awards banquet. There was a lot of interest in the fact that she was on a man's arm, and her mother was right behind them too, on the red carpet. Misty refused to say anything at all about him ... not even his first name. She'd forgotten that there was a seating chart, but that wouldn't become important until later.

As one of the nominees, she was high profile from the time they got there, until someone else got the award. After that people seemed less interested in who she was with.

Afterwards, her mother said "You two go on and have fun. I'll take one of them taxi cabs that we couldn't afford before you got so well known."

"You can come with us, Mom," said Misty.

"I'm tired. I'm goin' home and to bed. I wish we could get a little good corn likker in this town."

"Well, you can't, and you don't need any anyway," scolded Misty. "We'll see you later."

"I ain't waitin' up for you," warned Madge. "An' don't wake me up neither. I'll see you in the mornin'."

As they drove away from the Opry House Bobby tried to comfort Misty.

"It's okay," she said. "I'd like to have won and all, but things are already crazy enough. I'm in the middle of recording my second album. You'd be surprised how much time that takes. I'm going to use two of Jasper's songs on it."

"He'll be crazy proud," said Bobby.

"I know. I called him and told him about it. He's coming down here next month to sign papers and all that."

"Well everybody in Hutch thinks you should have won," said Bobby. "Me too."

"Aren't you sweet," she said. "That makes me horny."

"You're always horny," he laughed. "You do need a full time man, you know. Your mamma is right about that."

"Oh, he'll come along one of these days," said Misty. "Until then, I want you to take care of me."

"I can't stay here," he said.

"I know," she said, her voice easy. "But while you're here, I'm gonna get my money's worth."

She took him to a bluff that overlooked the city. Still dressed in her fine gown, and him in the tux Felicity had chosen for him to wear to this event, she demanded that he give her an orgasm and spurt in her. They made out in the back seat like teenagers, laughing at how hard it was for grown people to have sex in the back seat of a car.

Then, back home, she came to his room naked again. She spent the whole night there with him. They got very little sleep. He worked her over with his fingers and mouth first, and then she rode him, gyrating wildly on top of him and moaning about how much she loved doing this with him.

In between times, she lay with her head on his shoulder.

"I wrote four songs of my own for the new album," she said.

"I bet they're good."

"One of them is about you," she said, turning her face up to look into his eyes.

"I'm honored."

"It's actually about us ... when we met," she said.

"You getting soft on me?" he asked.

"No," she said. "I know what I want to do, and I know we're not right for each other. Not now. If you're not married in four or five years, though, you better watch out."

"You think I'll be married in four or five years?" he asked.

"If there's a single woman in Granger with any brains in her head, you will be," said the woman in his arms.

"Well, I'm not married yet," he said, levering himself up. He crawled between Misty's legs, which sprang open as if of their own accord. She reached for him.

"Make it last a long time this time," she whispered.

He did.

She took him to the airport on Sunday. She wanted him one last time in the parking lot, but Bobby convinced her it wasn't a good idea.

"Will you come with Jasper when he comes?" she asked, her arms around his neck.

"If I can work it," he said.

"You can work it," she laughed. "I know you love this."

"I do," he said, seriously. "I just don't want you to love it too much."

"You are so sweet," she purred, kissing the corner of his mouth. "You know that makes me want you even more."

"Say goodbye to your mother," he said.

She kissed him on the lips. "My mother told me to do that to you for her, just before you left."

"She told you to kiss me on the lips?" he asked, surprised.

"She said she thought you might object if she did it herself," said Misty, smiling.

"Your mother?" he asked.

"She likes you," said Misty. "She would never have let you stay in her house if she didn't."

"I just met her!" said Bobby.

"I really did tell her a lot about you," said Misty. "Now, go on. Get out! If you're going to leave me all horny and alone, I'm kicking you out."

He got out and got his bags from the trunk. She had crawled across the seat and was half hanging out of the passenger window when he started toward the terminal.

"Come see me with Jasper," she said.

He grinned.

"Okay."

"Goody!" she yelled.

He walked over and gave her a last peck on the lips.

"You just keep taking those pills," he whispered.

"Oh I will," she said. "This is so much more fun when I don't have to worry."

Misty was not sad on her way out of the airport. She loved being with Bobby ... both as a friend, and especially as a lover. But she had work to do too, and if he was around, she wouldn't be interested in doing it.

She hummed to herself as she drove away, thinking only briefly about how, in another month, he would come back. That would do. That would do just fine. Then, later, she could go to visit them. It would all work out. Everything was working out.

What Misty Compton did not think about was the warning that had come with her packet of birth control pills. That warning, in tiny letters, said: "Chemical birth control is not 100% effective. It is recommended that secondary methods of prophylactic protection be used in conjunction with this product."

Deep inside Misty's body, the egg that wasn't supposed to be near the end of its journey down her right fallopian tube proved that warning was correct. The egg was surrounded by tens of thousands of the strongest, healthiest sperm cells she had welcomed into her body over the last forty-eight hours. It didn't stand a chance. As she hummed and drove, one sperm cell wiggled its way through the cell wall of the egg. For a brief second only its tiny tail waved frantically outside the cell. Then that too was sucked inside as the egg welcomed the sperm and fertilization took place.

Misty Compton had left home a perfectly healthy, non-pregnant young woman, to go to the airport. It was the height of irony that the man who made her pregnant refused to make love to her on that trip, and that, despite that, she was already a mother-to-be when she parked her car in the garage, and went in to see the baby's grandmother.

Bobby had left his car at the Wichita airport. It had been a good weekend, as far as he was concerned. He'd had a good time with Misty and flown for the first and second times. Now, though, as his body came back to Kansas, his mind came back too. He remembered Erica's request for him to help pick up her brother. Before going home, he made a stop with that in mind.

Monday evening, when he got to the high school, he was amazed at how far along the sets were. He found Erica working with a group of boys who were villagers and were supposed to look like they were playing bagpipes. Someone had made up something that, from a distance, might appear to be a set of bagpipes and she was coaching them on how to hold the bizarre looking things.

"Wow," said Bobby. "If this is what happens when I leave, I should leave more often."

"They're so excited," said an obviously upbeat Erica. "They all wanted to work on Saturday and some of the painters came in yesterday too. We are officially on schedule!"

"Great," said Bobby. He reached for her hand and held it up in front of his face. "One ... two ... three ... four ..."

She jerked her hand back. "I have all five, thank you very much!" she said. "So does everybody else!"

"I didn't doubt it for a second," he said.

Erica yawned, and covered her mouth.

"I need sleep," she moaned. "This working every night is getting old."

"That reminds me," said Bobby. "I got it all arranged to go get your brother. I have a car that will carry us all. You can nap in the car on the way tomorrow. It's a nice car."

"That's wonderful!" said Erica. "I can't wait to see him."

"When do I need to pick you up?" he asked.

"His plane gets here at one in the afternoon. I've got a substitute lined up for all day," she said. "We should be back in time for play practice. I hope he wants to come watch that."

"He's in a wheelchair?" asked Bobby, looking around. There was only one entrance he could think of that didn't have a step before the door.

"Yes," she said. "Other than that, I don't know anything about his condition. He wouldn't tell me anything."

"We'll manage," said Bobby.

William Bradford, Erica's brother, had not told her his condition for several reasons. He had told her not to come see him during his recuperation for many of the same reasons. Primary among them was the fact that he was sick to death of the pity he saw in every pair of eyes that looked at him.

It didn't matter if it was strangers, who were at Walter Reed for some business or other, or the doctors and nurses that gave him his care. All of them were horrified when they looked at William.

Napalm in the Vietnam war had several uses, one of which was clearing landing zones for helicopters. Napalm generates temperatures of eight hundred to twelve hundred degrees Celsius which is capable of reducing average vegetation to ash quite quickly.

It's not good for human beings either.

Will, as he was known to his buddies in his infantry unit, had learned to love napalm when he got to Viet Nam at the tender age of twenty. It not only cleared landing zones, it killed the Viet Cong who were trying to kill him. On his last patrol, though, he got to know napalm much better than he wanted to.

He was walking point, fifty yards out, with Josh Turner behind him and to one side, where he shouldn't have been. He and Josh were best friends, though, and Josh didn't want him out there alone.

It started when the patrol was hit with an ambush. Will took an AK-47 round through his left wrist before he hit the ground. Then Josh, ten or twelve meters away from Will, stood up to throw a grenade. A small, black hole appeared almost as if by magic right in the middle of his forehead, and the grenade he held in his hand dropped as his body jerked backwards and flopped lifelessly to the ground. Will took significant amounts of shrapnel all down his left side. Only his flac jacket and the riddled left arm that was holding his helmet down over his head, saved his life.

It was obvious to the Lieutenant that they were in deep shit as he ordered the American unit to fall back. Of course it had already gone to shit for Will, who lay there in incredible pain, yelling weakly for a medic. Nobody seemed to be able to hear him as he lay, staring up at a surprisingly beautiful cloud-filled sky.

But he heard the radio operator scream "DANGER CLOSE!" and he knew that meant they were calling in fire support. That phrase meant they were calling it in right on top of themselves.

That's when he got really scared.

That was because Will Bradford could hear the alien chatter of the VC yelling to each other, and because he couldn't dig in. He couldn't even scrape a depression in the grassy soil to lower his profile even a few inches. Panic shot him full of adrenaline and he rolled toward Josh's body, rolling up and over it and using his momentum to pull Josh on top of him.

The Air Force chose napalm to solve the problem.

Will heard the unmistakable roar of an F-4 and the shooting from the VC side stopped suddenly. It wasn't quiet, though, as the Phantom screeched overhead. Will didn't see the twin dark pods detach from the hard points on the wings, but he did see them cross his line of vision ... just before the world went a peculiar vibrant shade of mixed orange, red, yellow and white.

He couldn't breathe, as all the available oxygen in the air was sucked into the fireball. He was deafened by the initial blast. He would always remember Josh Turner as the man who had ruined him ... and who had saved his life within the same ten minute time span. Josh's body took the majority of the splashes of flaming gel, but the side of Will's body that was exposed got a liberal dose.

He was hoarse from screaming before he lost consciousness, which only took about twenty seconds.

Nobody liked counting the shriveled black lumps that had been human beings at one time, but it had to be done. And, of course, you wanted to find your own. That's how Will, still mostly covered by what was left of Josh Turner, was found. They had a perfectly good landing zone right next to him, so they called in medevac.

Will regained consciousness some twenty-four hours after they brought him in. Within minutes, he wished he had died. He had been wishing that, off and on, for the last three years.

When Erica looked out her window and saw the car, her eyes widened with shock. She didn't know it was a 1965 Bentley Flying Spur, but she knew it was gorgeous ... and expensive ... and rare ... and a host of other adjectives. She blinked as Bobby got out and started toward the house.

"Where did you get that?!" she gasped as she opened the door.

"I have a friend, and explained things, and she let me borrow it," he said. "It's big enough for a wheelchair and some luggage, and will be comfortable to ride in."

"That's amazing," she sighed. "It's beautiful."

"You ready?" he asked.

Erica was excited. She thought she was ready. She knew she'd recognize her little brother in an instant, even with the wheelchair. She was wrong, and it hit her hard when the thing in the wheelchair was pushed into the receiving area at the airport.

The figure in the chair had more alien than human components to its look. It was almost like some cartoon character that had been drawn and then brought to life. The head had hair on it. The right side looked almost normal. Below the hair on the left side, however, there was no ear, just the thick crisscrossing lines of tense, mottled, hard skin that signal a burn victim to anyone who sees it. The left arm was covered by the sleeve of a shirt, but the end of the sleeve was pinned closed, where a hand should have protruded from it. The left leg was truncated just below the knee, with the pants leg covering that knee folded under it. The stewardess pushing the wheelchair looked grim.

Erica didn't know what to do. She was completely helpless in the face of the truth of the matter. She felt like she might throw up any second.

Bobby heard her gasp and saw the blood drain from her face. He strode forward and stood in front of the wheelchair.

"You must be William," said Bobby, before looking at the stewardess. "I'll take him from here." She looked grateful. "Thanks," he added.

"You're welcome," she said faintly and turned around to go back the way she'd come.

"Who are you?" asked the man in the wheelchair.

"I came with Erica to help pick you up," said Bobby.

"Where is she?"

He turned his head slightly, as if he had a stiff neck and had to be careful not to move it too far, to avoid the pain. In reality, that was as far as the tight skin on his left neck would stretch.

"I think she's trying to recover from seeing you," said Bobby. "I don't think she was quite ready for this."

"Nobody ever is," said William Bradford, a hard edge in his voice.

"You ready to see some of Kansas, and your new home?" asked Bobby. He was at something of a loss for words too.

"As ready as I'll ever be." That hard edge was still in his voice. "Is Kansas ready for me?"

"Probably not," said Bobby, stepping behind the chair to push. "But we'll all get used to each other."

Oddly, for Will, his reception went better than he'd thought it would. At least as far as the strange man pushing him toward the woman he recognized instantly as his sister. Couldn't miss those knockers ... just like nobody could miss his face. But the man pushing him hadn't choked and sobbed and gushed pity. He'd been refreshingly honest, at least so far.

Erica got things back to normal, though. She did all the choking and sobbing and gushing.

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