The Making of a Gigolo (15) - Agatha Roberts

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 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36

Chapter Thirteen

The hostility Mirriam felt towards Paula, who had brought so much trouble and danger to her family, seeped away as she listened to the painful pleading of the girl on the phone. It was clear that Millie was saying hurtful things. Mirriam heard the yelled "slut" clear across the kitchen. And, of course, the girl's protestations of virtue.

Mirriam thanked her lucky stars that Bobby had taken care of the girl, instead of taking advantage. She felt bad almost instantly at thinking Bobby would consider taking advantage. She had argued with herself about her own relationship with her son. She knew she was weak ... that she couldn't resist him. She knew that he pressed her sometimes. But he wasn't taking advantage of her. She admitted that to herself. And she knew he hadn't taken advantage of the twins. They spent too many nights in his bed for her to believe they ever regretted being there. They thought they were so clever and quiet, waiting for their mother to go to bed to join Bobby. Sometimes she wanted to laugh at them. But they were so full of love for Bobby, and their babies, she couldn't look at what had happened there as anything but a joyful experience for them all.

Just like all of Joe's babies had turned out to be a joyful experience for her. It had been hard, sometimes. But she wouldn't change a minute of it, if she had the chance to do so.

The girl was crying when she slammed the phone down. Mirriam couldn't just let her be in pain alone like that.

She went to hold the crying young woman.

It was only minutes before the phone had rung again. It was Will Bradford and he asked for Bobby. Mirriam went back to the kitchen to be with Paula after she called for Bobby to come to the phone.

"What's up?" asked Bobby.

"Christy just took Erica to the hospital," said Will. "She's in labor."

"Well, she's been wanting to get this over with," said Bobby. "Is she okay?"

"She's asking for you," said Will. "Except she also said for me to tell you not to come to the hospital." He sounded exasperated.

"Any idea what that really means?" asked Bobby.

"It means she wants you there, but she's worried that if you show up it will start rumors about who the father of her baby is."

"What do you think I should do?" asked Bobby. It had been a weird day already. What was a little more weirdness?

"I think you and I and Tilly and Jake should all go see her at the same time," said Will. "Then people will just think it's the folks who were associated with the musical seeing the director. I could probably get some kids to go see her too, but I don't know if they'll let them in."

"Let's not get the kids involved," said Bobby. "I like your idea about Jake and Tilly. Have you talked to them?"

"They're already on the way by now, if what Tilly said happens."

"I'll pick you up in half an hour," said Bobby.

"I'll be ready."

Paula wasn't stupid. She had listened to her mother. She did remember all the warnings. But, once out from under the dominating thumb of her parents, she also found out that there were all kinds of opportunities in the world to have fun and be joyful. It was fun to be with men who doted on you ... spent money on you ... wanted you. It was fun to flirt and kiss and rub up against them. And, when she started feeling those emotions that might get her in trouble, she could put on the brakes. That part wasn't fun, but she could do it.

It had never occurred to her that men might be different. She just naturally assumed they could stop too. Wasn't that what had happened last night? She couldn't remember any of it, but she knew she had been naked in front of a man. Completely naked! That had never happened before. She was a good girl. She'd always been a good girl. And the man who could have done anything he wanted to her had stopped. Her mother was wrong! She had gotten through last night safely, with her virginity intact!

Now, though, her sister had called her a slut. Her mother would agree. She knew that. And Millie would tell her mother everything. She would detail all of Paula's transgressions and then carefully explain everything she had done to try to correct the errant sister.

It was knowing that she would never be able to go home again that broke her heart. It was those sobs that were wracking her body when loving arms went around her and she was pulled into a comforting embrace.

Supper only heightened the comfort for Paula. The twins, once they saw their mother accept someone, just naturally joined in. Bobby was still gone, so she didn't have to face him. He'd been investigated and it was really all her fault. At least that's the way she thought of it. But they all treated her as if she were welcome, and their relaxed attitude seeped into her and let her relax too.

Paula had never really been around babies for more than half an hour at a time, or so. Perhaps because Paula was their age, the twins assumed she wouldn't mind if they fed their babies at the table. It did give her pause, for a few seconds, when Matilda pulled up her shirt as if to display one breast for some unknown reason. The baby that eagerly sucked at her nipple, though, explained it instantly. Paula looked at Mirriam, who was looking at her as if she were evaluating something. When Paula went back to eating, though, her hostess said nothing. Betty soon followed suit and there were two noisy babies at the table. What astonished Paula was how sensual the wet sucking sounds and tiny gulps sounded. She wondered if they did that when Bobby was around and could see them.

Then, after supper, there was the gentle hum of various activities going on. She joined the twins, who sat in front of the TV, with the sound turned down low, burping the babies and then changing diapers. She was astonished at how loving and gentle the women were with the tiny wriggling things ... how they cooed at them and played with their feet. She heard the clink of dishes in the kitchen. It was so calm in this house, not tense like she remembered her own home to have been.

She thought about that. What had made her own home tense? Was it the constant lectures about the dangers of life? Was it that she didn't remember any soft talking? She remembered how whenever the TV had been on, there had been no talking allowed. Especially during Perry Mason. Even if she had a question about homework, her mother would wave her hand, without breaking eye contact with the television, and go, "SHHHH!"

Paula realized she had been napping when her head jerked up. Mirriam was reading a book, curled up in a chair. Betty was still there, playing a stand up and sit down game with Veronica. Paula got up.

"I think I'll go to bed," she said.

"Good night," said Mirriam, looking up from her book. "I hope you sleep well."

In bed, Paula thought about how her life had changed. In less than twenty-four hours, she had lost her family and struck out on her own. She still had one semester of college to complete. She had no idea what she'd do then. She knew she was supposed to get a job, but it hadn't seemed that urgent until now. Now, she knew she wouldn't be welcome at home. She had become the black sheep of her family. Now, she really needed a job after school. What would it be like? She decided it wouldn't be much different than being at school. She'd go to work instead of to classes. She already did her own laundry and shopping and cooking. Maybe she would meet the man she could let herself loose with.

As she drifted off to sleep, she wondered what falling in love would be like.

Erica gave a final convulsive push and felt the pain, stretching and pressure just vanish. She sank back with a gasp, panting and looked up at Will. He had been allowed in the delivery room as her closest family member, and had held her hand while she went through all the things she'd learned in the Lamaze classes she'd taken. She hadn't taken a coach with her to the classes. She'd been convinced she didn't need one.

Now, though, she looked at Will with adoring eyes. He'd been such a rock, asking her what she was supposed to be doing, making her concentrate when her own frazzled thoughts threatened to make it all come undone. She'd done it all without drugs and felt prouder, at this moment, then she'd ever felt in her life.

"Eleven fifty-two!" said an excited nurse.

"Just made it," said the grinning doctor. "Congratulations on having the first baby born on New Year's Day in Granger in I don't know how long." The singularly identifiable noise of a crying baby filled the room.

"Is she all right?" asked Erica anxiously, forgetting Will and everything else. "Where is she?"

"The baby is fine," said the doctor. "Though there is one tiny problem."

"What?" asked Erica, trying to sit up.

"She has something between her legs that girls aren't supposed to have," said the doctor, grinning. "You've had a fine, healthy baby boy."

"A boy?" Erica's voice quavered. "She can't be a boy."

"Well, like most men, this one already isn't listening to his mother," said the doctor, taking a bundle from a nurse and setting it gently on Erica's breasts. "Now, you take a look at him, but I need you to push a little more, so we can get rid of that pesky placenta, okay?"

Erica unwrapped her baby, and stared into a face that that was round and pale under a pile of still wet black hair. Her fingers went to a hand and lifted it. She stared in awe at the perfectly formed tiny fingers. She placed one fingertip in the palm of that miniature hand and those fingers gripped her with surprising strength. The face twisted and the mouth opened. A noise came out that sounded like nothing she had ever heard in her life. It was a yearning noise.

"Push now, please," ordered the doctor.

She did, not thinking about it, while she uncovered the rest of the baby.

"Well, look at that," said Will.

She stared at the tiny penis that stuck straight out from the baby's groin. Her fingers went to feel it, because she still couldn't believe she'd had a boy. She'd known it was a girl ... felt it was a girl. She hadn't even looked at any boy's names. She'd already chosen the name. Rowena Patricia was what she had planned on naming her daughter.

Her son's arms moved convulsively and his mouth opened again, making more noise.

"What does he want?" she asked.

"He's a man," said a nurse. "He wants to suck." Several others in the room looked at her and she blushed. "Well it's true!" she said.

From Erica's perspective, all these people had seen her most intimate parts. Letting them see a breast wasn't any worse. "Help me," she said to Will, lifting the baby.

It took more than the one hand Will had, but the same nurse who had spoken helped too, and one of Erica's breasts was exposed. The bed was already tilted up, and it was amazingly easy to cradle the newborn in one arm and put the fat nipple in its mouth. It clamped on instantly and sucked.

Bobby's constant sucking before the birth had advanced her ability to produce milk. As a result of his sucking, in fact, she had dripped a clear substance she knew was called colostrum. She wasn't in full production yet, but along with the normal colostrum, there was a mixture of milk too. The sensations in her nipple were completely different than anything she'd ever felt and, as the baby in her arms settled into a rhythmic sucking, she relaxed completely for the first time since coming to the hospital.

"I'll go tell the others," said Will. He walked out of the room, his limp hardly showing.

"Tell them not to leave," said Erica. "I want to see them."

"As soon as we get you to a room," said the nurse.

Erica held her baby, who had finished sucking and was sleeping. She had explored his tiny body, in awe of his perfection. She hadn't thought of adoption for months, but even if she had come to the hospital planning on giving this baby up, she would have been unable to do so after feeding him just that first time.

Jake's chair had been pushed close to the bed. Will was standing back, to make room for Bobby and Tilly.

Tilly looked at the baby and then up at Bobby. He winked and his lips almost smiled. Then his finger came up to his lips, in the universal sign of, "be silent." He covered that by coughing into his hand.

"He's so beautiful," sighed Erica.

"Boys are handsome, not beautiful," said Jake.

"This one was supposed to be a girl!" said Erica, looking straight at Bobby. Then she looked back at her baby. "But I don't care. He's beautiful and I love him."

What's his name?" asked Jake.

"I don't know," said Erica. "I never thought it would be a boy. I was going to call her Rowena Patricia."

"Owen Patrick," said Tilly softly.

Erica's eyes opened wide. "That's perfect!" she said.

"Owen means 'young fighter'," said Jake suddenly.

Erica looked at him curiously. "How do you know that?" she asked.

"It's my middle name," said Jake.

Erica looked at the sleeping little boy in her arms. "Owen Patrick Bradford. You'll be my young fighter, showing the world what a real man ... a good man can be like. You'll grow up to battle injustice and fight for women's rights."

"How about we get him out of diapers before we send him off to do battle," said Bobby, grinning.

Erica looked up at him. Her eyes narrowed.

"A boy!" she said, sounding disgruntled. "I should have known!"

Tilly had to turn away to hide her smile.

Agatha sat at her desk, her eyes going down the list of numbers in the column she was looking at. She double checked everything and felt proud as she saw it was all perfect.

She leaned back in her chair and looked down at the bulge under the pullover she was wearing. Her hands came to rest on it. She kept expecting to feel a heartbeat, or some movement or something. She got up to get more water. She'd given up coffee and tea and had been surprised at how calm she felt since.

Michelle stuck her head in the office door.

"Lunch is about ready. You done?"

"Done!" said Agatha. "For now, anyway."

"Well come and get it," said her brother's wife.

She got up. Being pregnant wasn't an imposition on her at all, thus far. As she went to eat she wished her house would sell, so she could get her own place. George and Michelle had been so wonderful to her and she didn't mind living with them, but she didn't want to be a burden either. They hadn't asked her anything about the growing evidence that she was pregnant. She wondered why, but then decided that they just accepted her as she was.

That made her think about Granger too ... and Bobby.

As she sat down she frowned, thinking again whether she'd done the right thing. She hadn't told Bobby about the baby and she couldn't help but wonder if that was depriving him of information he might want. Even though she was carrying the man's child, she felt like she didn't really know him that well. He might want to marry her if he knew and she was quite positive that she didn't want to be married to Bobby Dalton. It wasn't him, exactly. She just didn't want to be married again. It was just like that girl had said, in the play she had gone to at the high school. It had been so romantic, that disappearing village. And she'd understood completely when the girl had said she'd think about marriage when some man made her think about marriage. Now that she knew what a relationship could be like, she'd never go back to what she and Harry had had.

George came in and washed his hands at the sink.

Then they had lunch and she got wrapped up in telling him about the mistake his last bookkeeper had made that had made it so difficult to balance the bank statement for the last six months.

Paula sat down at the table. Her mouth was watering. The food here was so good, she always looked forward to it. Initially she had felt a little bad about being invited to all the meals, instead of just breakfast. She had no car and nowhere to go anyway. She read a little and worked on a jigsaw puzzle that had been lying, barely started, on a table in the living room.

Bobby had returned from some mysterious errand while Paula slept. His attitude toward her was so casual and normal that it astonished her. At lunch, he asked her if she wanted to learn how to finish sheet rock.

She hadn't even known what sheet rock was until that day. She'd never paid any attention to the walls that always surrounded her. She was surprised when her almost finished art degree helped her visualize what the finished wall would look like. She also learned she was a perfectionist, and spent much more time on a seam than Bobby ever would.

She knew supper was a time when almost anything might be discussed. It was always interesting and so much better than sitting silently, being told not to clink the silverware against the plate, or your teeth, because it suggested bad breeding.

"You haven't told us about college," said Matilda, who was sitting across from her. "Where do you go to school?"

"I'm at Kansas State," said Paula.

"Really!" said the twins at the same time, in the same tone of voice. They did that a lot and Paula thought it was cute. Betty seemed to get the floor, somehow. "Our sister goes to K-State! She's going to be a doctor. Maybe you know her."

Paula smiled. "I doubt it. There are twenty thousand students there. I'm studying art. I don't think we'd have to share very many classes or anything."

"Oh." Betty sounded almost dejected. Then she perked up. "Tell us about art."

That got her talking. It surprised her how much she had to say, suddenly. More of their questions kept her going. It was the first time she felt like she had actually learned something in college.

After supper the twins had pulled out a stack of records and started playing them. They danced with their babies, laughing and whirling. Bobby danced with his mother and Paula saw immediately why he was such a good dancer. He practiced at home.

Mirriam went off to do something and Bobby asked Paula if she wanted to dance.

"No champagne, tonight," he said, grinning.

"Good," she said.

They danced for an hour. Sometimes Bobby danced with his sisters too, and whenever that happened the odd sister simply danced with Paula. It didn't seem to matter to them who they danced with. It was just dancing.

It was when the twins started putting on slower songs that Paula began to see things that were puzzling. The twins still danced with him ... and they danced close. Sometimes it almost looked as if they were rubbing up against him ... teasing him ... just like Paula had teased him on New Year's Eve.

When he asked her to dance too, she pressed against him, like she had before.

"I like dancing with you better when you're not drunk," he said into her hair.

"I'm really sorry about that," she said, her face pressed to his shoulder. He smelled good, somehow.

"No harm done," he said.

"Thank you for being a gentleman too," she said.

"Who said I was a gentleman?" he asked. He gave her a little squeeze for some reason.

"You could have done anything you wanted with me," she said.

"I thought about it."

She pushed back and looked at his face. He was smiling.

"But you didn't," she said.

"Turned out to be a good thing." He wasn't smiling any more. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure," she said, laying her head back on his shoulder.

"Do you dance like this on purpose?"

"Like what?" she asked.

"Pressed up against me," he said. She was almost shocked to feel his hips give her a little bump. She felt pressure right where the legs of the jeans she was wearing came together.

"It's just flirting," she said.

"You like to flirt, huh?"

"Yes. It's fun."

"Okay," he said.

The song ended then and Betty claimed him for the next dance. She watched them turn in slow circles. She would have sworn that Betty rubbed her breasts against his chest. They turned and she looked at his fingertips, just barely onto Betty's butt.

Another hour later, Paula decided she liked dancing with Bobby Dalton. She liked it a lot. It wasn't anything he said. It was more the feel of him. She rubbed herself against him and he rubbed back, just a little. It wasn't threatening and it was a lot of fun. She knew she'd have to masturbate when she went to bed tonight.

And, since she was no longer welcome at home, she wouldn't have to feel guilty about it anymore.

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