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 Two

It had been easy, to Agatha's astonishment. He had showed her how to grip the ladder above and pull herself up, stepping up one rung at a time. The trunk actually leaned so that she was tilted toward the tree. She blushed, thinking of what it would look like underneath her, but, of course, he was beside her. She pulled her own basket up, kneeling on the edge of the platform. It seemed much higher from up here.

"Blankets!" he grunted. "Be right back."

She hadn't seen the thick rope that hung from a branch above the tree house to the ground. He slid down it, and she watched in amazement. He looked very athletic. He went to the trunk of the car and brought back several blankets. He tried throwing them up to her, but that didn't work as they came unfolded and fluttered back down. Then he rolled them all up and tied one of the ropes around them. She pulled them up while he climbed again. She watched as he made a nest for them and felt her stomach acting up again. More things could be done on that thick layer of blankets than eating or talking.

She was shocked that she'd thought of that and blushed. He didn't see her do that, though. He was busy setting things out.

"You're a good cook," sighed Bobby. He was lying on one side, facing her. All the food was between them and he'd just polished off a piece of the barbecued chicken that some faceless person at the IGA had cooked and put in a warmer just before she bought it.

"I have to confess I didn't cook that," she said. "I bought it at the store. I tried to cook, but it didn't work out well." She felt better for telling him the truth.

"In that case, I don't mind telling you those sandwiches came from the deli in town," said Bobby, grinning. He'd brought the most delicious ham sandwiches she'd ever tasted. "I couldn't get away with cooking anything, because my mother would have wanted to know why I was doing it."

"I just don't understand how your mother could object to you having a picnic with me," said Agatha.

"Remember the first day you met me?" he asked, reaching for some potato chips.

"Yes," she said.

"If I'd asked you to go on a picnic that day, would you have agreed?"

"Of course not," she admitted.

"So ... what changed?"

"I don't know," she said.

"We talked a little bit," he offered. "We got to know each other a little bit and I wasn't so scary anymore."

Now she felt bad that she was lying to him again. He had jumped to the wrong conclusion ... that she liked being with him. She couldn't admit that the only reason she was here, in this tree house, was because she was waiting for him to offer to have sex with her if she paid him. Her plans were to ruin his life. He went blithely on, ignorant that he was being stalked.

"I'm quite sure that if you and my mother had a chance to chat, you'd like each other. Communication bridges gaps like that." He reached for another olive and popped it into his mouth.

She took a bite and chewed slowly, so she wouldn't have to say anything. He was a handsome man, she admitted to herself unhappily. Lying there, relaxed, he looked good. And he was so nice! He hadn't done any of the things she'd expected him to do ... had been prepared to defend herself from. It was almost like they were just ... having a picnic!

"Why haven't you started dating again?" he asked.

She almost choked, but managed not to spew half eaten sandwich all over the place. He waited until her mouth was cleared and she took a drink from the bottle of Coke he'd given her, to clear her throat.

"I could never do that," she said.

"Why on earth not?" he asked. "As I recall, most of the vows I've heard exchanged said something about until death do them part." A shadow came over his face. "I'm sorry," he said instantly. "That didn't come out quite right."

"It's all right," she said, trying to be polite. She felt a little guilty that she didn't miss Harry more than she did.

"What I mean is, it's been several years. You're still young. You could go on with life. I'm just curious as to why you haven't."

"You're not married," she pointed out.

"True," he said. "But not because I don't want to be. I just haven't found the right woman yet."

"You've had dozens of women," she said. She paled. She couldn't believe she'd said that!

"Dozens might be a little on the optimistic side," he said, without missing a beat. "I've been friends with lots of women, but it never seemed to lead in the direction of marriage." He saw her pale face and his intuition kicked in. "That's part of why you don't like me," he said. "Because of all those rumors about me and my lady friends."

"Well?" she said weakly. "You just admitted it."

"What did I admit?" he asked, looking at her with a level gaze.

"I suppose you were just trying to find a wife," she said stiffly. Her body ached all over, the result of sitting primly, upright, with her legs tucked back decently under her skirt. She didn't lie down, like the man across from her.

"Maybe," he said calmly. "How did you go about finding your husband?"

That question took her aback. He seemed to be asking a serious question.

"He proposed and I accepted," she said. That was how she remembered it.

"It was that easy?" He looked doubtful. "I've offered to marry several women. They all turned me down."

Now that was news! Wouldn't Gladys and Ethyl salivate about that! Then it occurred to her she couldn't tell them that. They'd want to know how she knew. She certainly couldn't tell them it had come straight from the horse's mouth.

"That must have been painful," she said, just to say something.

"Not really," he said. "Well, a little bit, I guess. They all explained it very well."

"Did they?"

"Yes." He reached for another olive. She watched him bite it and then chew. "Though sometimes you just have to take a woman's word for it, when they say something like you're just not the right man."

Agatha was confused. He seemed to be telling the truth. But if that was the case ... where did all those babies come from? Surely no woman who had decided not to marry a man would get herself into that kind of situation. That led her back to the sex for money idea. But that made even less sense. Why would any woman hire a man to get her pregnant? None of this was making sense. Especially since he seemed to be so nice! His next question confused her even more.

"What does it feel like to be in love?" he asked. "Like you were in love with Harry."

"Love?" Her voice quivered a bit.

"Yes. I know what it's like to love my mamma and my sisters. But that's different."

"You've never been in love?" Her voice was weak.

"I don't know, for sure," he said. "It's hard to explain. I feel things ... but I don't know if it's love or not."

She could understand that. That was what was terrifying her at the moment. Deep in the recesses of her mind, she wasn't sure she'd ever loved Harry at all. She'd known she was supposed to. She'd even tried. Except she didn't know how to make that magical thing she'd heard of happen. She'd been happy. No ... she'd been content. But she couldn't really answer his question, because she wasn't sure she had ever been in love.

"He made me happy," she tried.

"Lots of women have made me happy," said Bobby. "There has to be more to it than that."

"Oh I don't know!" she said nervously. "Let's talk about something else."

"I'm sorry," he said. He sounded sorry. "I didn't mean to dredge up bad memories. I know you must miss him horribly."

"Yes," she said, because that was what she was expected to say. She felt bad about lying.

Agatha drove carefully as she left the state park. She didn't know how to feel about what had happened. He had freely admitted that he had lots of lady friends, but his claim that he was exploring relationships with an eye toward marriage put it all in a different light. And he'd been a perfect gentleman around her, other than lying indolently across from her looking handsome enough to charm even Gladys. She giggled with a trace of hysteria, trying to imagine Gladys in that tree house. All she could imagine was Gladys huffing and puffing, trying to pull her bulk up those rickety boards nailed to the tree.

Had he really proposed to several women? Which ones? It couldn't be the ones who had the babies. That just didn't make any sense of any kind.

As she pulled into her garage she felt a little sad.

If she hadn't been on a mission, she might have had a very nice time.

Bobby's thought processes were similar, in some ways, as he drove away from the lake. He couldn't figure Agatha Roberts out. She was still young. She'd be pretty if she tried to be. The few times he'd seen her smile, she'd looked pretty. She was so sour!

And yet, she must be interested. Why would she have gone on the picnic if she wasn't interested? But then, while they were together, she seemed to fight that interest.

It was a puzzle. He was intrigued.

On impulse, he turned toward Erica's house. The water at the lake had looked good. Erica was complaining that her back hurt all the time, because of the double weight that the baby and her breasts caused. Maybe he could talk her into going swimming.

His mind drifted back to Agatha. Yes ... she was a puzzle ... and Bobby liked puzzles. He had no way of knowing it, nor did Agatha Roberts, but her plan was actually working ... in a way.

Erica did want to go swimming. It was hot in the house. Her back did ache frequently, if she wasn't lying down. Her breasts had gotten even bigger. Her protruding abdomen now stuck out as far as her breasts did too, at least when she wasn't wearing a bra.

"I don't have a swimsuit," she complained.

"I know a place we can skinny dip," he said.

"You're insane," she sighed.

"Okay, you can go in in shorts and a T shirt."

"I don't own shorts and a T shirt!" she barked. "And if I did, they wouldn't fit, thanks to you!"

"The place I told you about," he said calmly, "where you can skinny dip? It's on private property. I know the owners. We can drive within fifty yards of the water and nobody will be able to see us."

Erica was constantly amazed at how Bobby could somehow make what he said seem so reasonable.

"You just want to see me naked," she said, her voice surly.

"Of course I do," he admitted, grinning.

Erica was also constantly amazed at how Bobby could make her feel the way she did right now, even when she was trying not to feel that way.

"You'd better be telling me the truth," she warned.

He was. He unlatched a gate and drove across a pasture, where cows grazed. There was, indeed, a treeline between the pasture and the lake, and once they walked into it, no one could see them from the road. She could see boats out on the lake, though. She pointed that out to Bobby.

"Can you see the people on those boats?" he asked.

"Yes," she said.

"Can you tell whether they're naked or not?"

"Of course they're not naked!"

"Can you tell?"

She refused to answer.

She made him hold up a towel while she tiptoed, carefully, across the gravel, shielding her from the view of the boats. She couldn't do anything about it when, as her feet got into the water, he tossed the towel onto the gravel and started undressing right there on the beach.

"Bobby!" she complained, suddenly exposed.

"Nobody can see you," he laughed. "Just get into the water."

She felt wonderful. It should always be like this. Her back didn't hurt at all. Her breasts floated in front of her, no longer pulling her forward. She felt normal again.

Bobby's hands were also wonderful. He held her and touched her, sliding his hands all over her swollen belly. She turned her head for kisses and he gave her orgasms by squeezing her nipples. They'd both learned by now that he didn't have to squeeze as hard, now that they were swollen and preparing to feed milk to the baby. They were ultra sensitive now and repeated light squeezes set her off almost instantly.

Sucking did too and Bobby loved to suck her nipples. With the water supporting her, she lay back, her belly just barely breaking the surface, while he held her up with a hand in her back. He bent over and gave her orgasm after orgasm until she told him to stop.

Then, copying him, she held his bulk up until his penis rose out of the water like the periscope of a submarine. Then she sucked him until he spurted into her mouth.

They floated and talked. No boats ever came close. It was delightful. He even managed to get his penis in what she thought of as her swollen vagina, but they didn't really make love that way. It was more play than anything else. They kissed and cuddled until her fingers wrinkled up like a prune. He took her behind a rock, where she could lie down and let the sun dry her skin. Her hair stayed damp, but when she got dressed again her clothes didn't stick to her.

When he took her home, he gave her three more orgasms, stroking her clitty with his tongue and then his fingers, while kissing her, kneeling beside her bed. She was comfortable riding his long prick too, and if he held her up with his hands on her shoulders, she could rock on him for a long time without her back hurting.

He turned a fan on her and left her lying naked, on top of the covers, to take a nap. The thick, rich sperm that had made her belly swell overflowed from the mouth of her gaping pussy, but she didn't care. She could wash the bedspread later.

By August, they'd had six customers at the B&B. All of them had expressed satisfaction with the accommodations. Three had said they'd pass the word on to friends. Three had been businessmen who said they were tired of staying in motels. The others had been a couple, traveling through, with their teenage son. That had been over the 4th of July holiday, when the motels were all full. An acquaintance who worked at one of the motels had recommended Dalton's.

The twins were due the middle of the month and it was getting hard for them to work at Renee's. They both looked like they might have twins, to Bobby, but his mother laughed when he said that.

"Matilda is carrying a boy," she said, "and Betty will have a girl."

"How in the world do you know that?" asked Bobby.

"Matilda is carrying very low," said Mirriam. "Just look at Betty. Hers is riding high. Definitely a girl."

"Sounds goofy to me," said Bobby. "Did you carry me low?"

"I don't remember," said his mother.

"You're joshing me ... aren't you?" He wasn't quite sure.

"Me?" His mother grinned at him. "Would I do that?"

He found out, at least partly, when Matilda went into labor on the twelfth of August. Mirriam went with her to the hospital. Matilda practically squirted out a little boy. After he was cleaned up, the nurse handed him to Mirriam, who presented him to his mother. Bobby stayed home with Betty, who was beside herself, because they hadn't gone into labor together. She paced until Bobby ordered her to sit down and relax.

She ignored him.

The next day he took her to the hospital to see her sister. Matilda still had a deer-in-the-headlights look about her as she held the little black-haired boy possessively. She'd counted fingers and toes at least five times. She couldn't believe she had produced this beautiful little thing that she already loved more than anything else in the world ... even her twin sister.

"Wow," said Betty, inching closer to the bed. Her hands were on her own swollen belly.

Matilda looked past Betty to Bobby.

"I love you," she said, tears coming into her eyes.

Bobby looked around, but only their mother was in the room. She was napping in a chair. She'd raised her head to look at them when they came in, smiled faintly, then put her head back down. Bobby was holding Theodore, who was four. He wasn't actually supposed to be in the room, but Bobby had just carried him past the nurses without asking.

"Is that my brother?" he piped.

"Sort of," said Bobby softly.

"Can I play with him?"

"Later, sport," said Bobby. "How about you and me go find something to eat."

"Candy?"

"No candy," came Mirriam's voice, from the corner. Bobby looked over. She hadn't raised her head and her eyes were still closed.

"We'll see," said Bobby. He made a kissing motion towards Matilda, who was still looking at him.

"I love you, Bobby," she said again, her voice almost breaking. "Thank you."

"Any time," said Bobby, grinning.

"No more!" said Mirriam. She did raise her head this time and her eyes bored into Bobby's.

"I love you too, Tildy," said Bobby, winking at her. He turned and left.

"Can I hold him?" asked Betty. There was longing in her voice.

"Ohhh Betty, he's sooo perfect!" moaned her sister. She struggled to hand the baby to her sister and suddenly Mirriam was there, helping with the transfer.

"What's his name?" asked Betty, staring into the tiny face. He looked so peaceful, like he was sleeping.

"Joseph," said Matilda softly. "After Daddy."

"Not fair," cooed Betty. "I wanted that name."

"First come first served," smiled Matilda.

Matilda came home the next day, on the fourteenth. She had no sooner gotten home, carrying her precious bundle of joy, and Bobby and Mirriam had no sooner laid down the burdens they'd carried into the house, than Betty's eyes widened and she said, "Uh oh!"

She looked down to see a dark stain spreading across the crotch of her maternity shorts.

Mirriam groaned. She'd been at the hospital since she took Matilda.

"I'm sorry, Mommy," whined Betty, looking scared. Her face took on a wrinkled appearance and she bent forward slightly. "Ow!!" she yelled, as a contraction rippled across her belly.

"Breathe, Betty!" commanded her sister. "It works. Remember how we practiced? Breathe like we practiced!"

"I'll take her," said Bobby to their mother. "Call Prudence. You need some sleep. I'll stay with her until you or she get there. At least get a few hours sleep. We'll be fine, won't we baby sister?"

"Owwww!" groaned Betty, looking really scared now.

Mirriam turned around.

"We'll both take her. She shouldn't be having contractions this close together. Not this soon." She lowered her voice and leaned toward Bobby and Matilda. "Something is wrong."

"Call Prudence," said Bobby to Matilda.

"You're going to leave me here all alone?" Matilda's voice rose.

"You've been taking care of babies for over a year!" snapped Mirriam.

"Oh ... yeah." Matilda relaxed. "Okay. Have fun!" She kissed Betty on the cheek. "And breathe!" she yelled as Betty waddled toward the back door.

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