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Subject: {ASSM} The Last Fling: Home Schooling {Varkel} (Mff)
Date: Wed,  7 Nov 2001 05:10:03 -0500
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The Last Fling


April to December Twice
Presented as a Series of Episodes by Varkel
Copyright (c) Varangian and Kellis, November, 2001



Episode 5:  Home Schooling


"It's two-oh-one on Friday.  That's probably him.  Come on,
Jack."

The girls looked up from their soap opera as the men got to their
feet.  "If you want to peek," Lou told them, "we'll bring him
into the mirror room.  That's also going to be the schoolroom."

"Oh, wow!" exclaimed Anita, the fine-boned brunette.

Betsy, the buxom blonde, grinned up at him.  "Who's gonna learn
who, Lou?"

"He'll be paid to teach _you_ two, and I want my money's worth."

The men ambled down the hall to the living room and the foyer,
where the caller had again rung the bell.

"Impatient bastard," muttered tall Jack, standing aside for his
stout friend to open the door.

A very slim and pale fellow in a gray pin stripe with a colorful
necktie stood on the portico.  He had thin brown hair above thick
wire-frame spectacles that seemed to enlarge his blue eyes.  A
pencil-line mustache decorated his upper lip.  A small brown
briefcase hung at his side, matching well-shined shoes.  He
looked Lou's casual clothing up and down with faint disapproval.

"The Mainwaring residence?" he inquired.  His voice was a high
baritone.

"Yes," Lou answered.  "Are you Mr. Reginald Quince?"

"_Dr._ Quince, thank you."

"Ah, yes.  Please come in.  I am Lou Mainwaring and this is my
partner, Jack Westfield.  If we reach agreement, we two shall be
your employers."

The man's face blanked on the last word.  He stepped into the
air-conditioning smartly enough as Lou closed the door behind
him.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Westfield," he said.

"Call me Jack," responded the tall man, briefly grasping the
limply extended hand.

The newcomer offered it to Lou.  "Pleased to meet you too, Mr.
Mainwaring."

"I'm Lou.  In what field is your doctorate, Reggie, Education?"

Dr. Quince flinched slightly at the familiarity.  Or perhaps it
was sensitivity to the expected reaction to his answer.  He said
stiffly, "Oceanic Cultures and the Icelandic Saga."

"Oh, you have _two_ doctorates!" noted Jack, winking at Lou.

"Yes, sir."

Lou said heartily, "How you obtained them in subjects so
geographically disparate is, I'm sure, an interesting tale that
you must tell us some time.  For now follow us and we'll show you
to the schoolroom."

The two old men led Reggie down the hall to the mirror room.
Passing the door, the young man came to a halt.  As his head
swiveled among the mirrored walls and ceiling, his eyes opened
wider than his thick glasses.  The room, already large, seemed
even more so because the tiny dark mirror had been removed and
its entire wall, shared invisibly with the secret room, was now
tiled with two-foot mirrors, likewise the half of the facing
opposite wall that included the huge bed.  A six-foot white board
for dry-erase markers had been installed in that wall toward the
door, with bookcases, presently empty, filling the remainder.  A
table sat before the bookcase with a desktop computer perched
atop it.  Six well-padded chairs surrounded another, larger table
before the white board.

"Classroom?  This is more of a bedroom!" the young man stated
flatly.  His disapproval was obvious.

"Not exactly, Reggie."  Lou squeezed his lips tightly together to
keep from smiling and continued, "It's a spare room, a room with
a bed in it.  The previous owner may have admired herself a great
deal.  But with the tables, chairs and board you can use it as a
classroom."

Jack added, "We don't want you to lecture in any of the dens or
the living room for obvious reasons, and we want you free to
teach your students in your own way."

Reggie nodded slowly in acceptance, but mumbled, "I had a real
classroom on my last assignment."

Lou clapped the young man on the shoulder.  "I'm sure you did,
but your pupils this time are probably older than usual.  I'm
confident they'll have no difficulty adjusting to this
environment."

"Older?  How old are they exactly?"

"They're eighteen, Reg, delightful young women."  Jack rubbed his
hands together for no apparent reason.  "But they didn't finish
high school, which is why you're here.  It would be your task as
tutor to smooth their rough edges, if you know what I mean; at
least get them to speak proper English."

The young man's face took on a flustered look.  "You mean I
should prepare them for college entrance exams?"

"No, no," Lou protested affably.  "Nothing that serious.  You're
not required to make rocket scientists of them."

Jack sniffed.  "Though it wouldn't hurt for them to know how
rockets work.  I presume you do."

"I do what?"

"Know how rockets work," Jack repeated impatiently.

"I, ah ..."  He took a breath.  "I don't represent myself as a
science teacher."

"Hmpf!"  Jack's lip curled in disapproval.

Reggie blurted, "Newton's Third Law!"

Jack's face was wreathed in smiles.  "Very good."

The young man stared from old man to the other, torn between the 
need for a good income and apprehension toward this unusual 
prospect.  He bit his lower lip and recalled that his previous 
posts, where his charges had been mere children, had ended in 
disaster and humiliation.  He glanced shyly at the two old men 
who studied him with the secret amusement of long experience in 
judging underlings' sincerity or lack thereof, understanding his 
dilemma only too well.

When Reggie's frown of indecision faded, his face took on a 
hopeful countenance.  "Are they well-behaved?  The girls, I 
mean?"

"Well, of course they are, Reggie."  Lou beamed encouragingly at 
the young man.  "They'll do as they're told."

Jack almost snorted.  "I guarantee they know how to behave."

Lou coughed slightly.  "Now of course, their behavior needs
refinement.  According to your references, deportment and
etiquette are your strong points."

"Ah, yes," the young man agreed, blushing unaccountably.

"Perhaps you'd like to meet them," Lou offered.  He turned his
head to the doorway and shouted not too loudly. "Girls, come in
here please."

An inexplicable thumping and rumbling behind the mirrored wall
caused Reggie to look about in unease and confusion.  Shortly two
older girls, seemingly out of breath, jostled each other as they
came through the doorway.  They wore jean shorts and tank tops.
His eyes registered the taller one, a blonde who filled her
blouse thoroughly, but his attention riveted on the small,
pixyish brunette.  He was unaware that his mouth had fallen open,
revealing his stunned fascination.  He stared at the diminutive
girl, failing to notice the blonde's giggle, until Lou's voice
reminded him of the situation at hand.

"The blonde is Betsy," Lou said as he affectionately put an arm
around the taller girl.  "And this little one who has gotten your
attention is Anita.  Girls, say hello to your tutor, Dr. Reginald
Quince."

"Wow!  Are you really a doctor?" Anita exclaimed, coming to a
halt too close for Reggie's peace of mind.  He wanted to stroke
her slender upper arm, which gleamed like soft alabaster.

Betsy sniffed.  "He's not a _doctor_ doctor, 'Nita.  He can't fix
you when you's broke."  She assayed the man shrewdly and
immediately decided he was probably queer.  "Nita sometimes looks
like a boy," she said in a teasing voice.

"But she -- she couldn't be a _boy_!" he protested.

Betsy leered.  "She can sure _play_ one to beat the band!"

Reggie gaped fishlike at her.  "Why would she want to do that?"
he snapped, amazed at the very idea.

Betsy almost sneered.  A _dumb_ queer!  She was saved from
expressing it by Anita's mother instinct, responding to the
despondent male.

"Don't pay her no attention, Doc.  She's just a-trying to get
your eye."

"Not much chance of that!" Betsy sniffed.

The two old men stood by in amused silence, watching the girls
toy with the hapless man.

"Well!  What do you say?" Jack demanded suddenly with the air of
a businessman.  "You could start at once at the fee we mentioned
on the phone."

"Ah, ah," Reggie stuttered.  "Yes, of course.  I accept."  He
took a deep breath.  "But first I need to find a place to stay.
I lived in on my last job."

"You won't find anything cheap in this neighborhood, I'm afraid."
Lou rubbed a palm and fingers across his chin as if smoothing a
beard.  "You could stay here for a few days, if you like, until
you find a place.  That would at least eliminate your motel
expenses."

Both girls quickly traded devilish looks.  Jack scowled but said
nothing.

Reggie too was silent for a moment.  His mouth worked as if
unable to coordinate with his lips.  "Thank you.  That's very
kind," he finally managed.

"Okay, then it's settled."  Lou clapped his hands once.  "That's
your car in the drive, isn't it?  In the future park on the
extreme left side of the apron where you don't block Jack or me.
Now go get your stuff.  You can have the maid's room off the
kitchen.  The girls will show you to it.  And feel free to use
the phone in your search for an apartment."

The old men watched the two playful girls lead the bemused Reggie
away, each holding one of his hands.

"Why did you do that, Lou?" Jack asked without taking his eyes
off the departing trio.  "What are you up to?"

When the others had disappeared in the hallway, Lou poked his
friend affectionately on the shoulder.  "This will be fun to
watch.  Our two girls will have him drained dry by Monday
morning.  Besides, that guy wouldn't be worth squat as a tutor so
long as he's mooning over Anita and walking around with a
constant hard-on."

Jack sniffed.  "I doubt your good intentions, Lou.  You just want
to spy on them from behind the mirrors."

Lou gave him a wink.  "Do you think we have enough tape for the
VCRs?"

"Yeah."

"What's the matter, pal?  You seem a bit put out."

"It's just that ..."  Jack seemed unable to find a word.  After a
moment he growled, "He damn well better not hurt her!"

"Anita?  That wimp hurt her?  Huh!  Who moved the urn in the
garden?  Her strength is deceptive.  You complimented her on it
just the other day.  If he tries something she doesn't approve,
she'll break his jaw."

"That's so."  The tall man nodded without evident pleasure.

"What the hell, pal?  Don't tell me you're jealous!"

Jack took a breath and shook his head.  Finally he grinned.  "I
guess I am, a little.  'Nita has wormed her way right into my
heart."  He sighed.  "But I'm not such a fool as that.  I know
she needs a vigorous cock that won't suffer a heart attack when
it plows her.  And she's just as pretty fucking another man, or
so I told myself the last time I watched her fuck you."

"Well, you were right about that.  You'll get to see it all, over
and over if you wish.  No way he can satisfy both of them, you
know.  She'll come to you all ready."

"Maybe so, but I still don't like it."  Jack heaved another sigh.
"And we can't indulge such carefree dress with him in the house."

"What're you talking about, Jack?  You've hardly been naked in
here at all."

"I keep my robe belted most of the time for the same reason you
do.  I mean the girls!  Their nudity is so delightful, especially
at breakfast."

Lou grinned slyly.  "Care for a little wager?"

"On what?"

"I'll bet a hundred that all three of them come to breakfast
naked on Sunday morning."


	* * *


The "maid's quarters" reminded Reggie of the motel room he had
just quitted, after losing an argument over another day's rental
because of his late departure.  But this, a sitting room, bedroom
and attached bath, was more luxurious.  One whole wall of the
bedroom was a walk-in closet in which his three suits and extra
slacks hung in stark loneliness.  The sitting room included a
concealed refrigerator, stocked with food, beneath a sideboard.
Apparently the suite only lacked room service, but so had the
motel.  He especially liked the large permanent mirrors, one on
the bedroom wall opposite the bed, the other on the bathroom wall
opposite the combination tub and shower.

He had masturbated religiously, once in the morning and again at
night, ever since an older boy had shown him how at the age of
eleven.  It was his only sexual outlet, and as the years passed
he had developed considerable skill and much satisfaction in the
lonely art.  He usually lay naked upon the bed with a skin
magazine or individual photographs grasped in his left hand as he
stroked himself slowly with his right.  Sometimes he could make
it last for almost an hour.

When it could be arranged, he preferred to seek relief before a
mirror that afforded a front-on view of the results, especially
if they could fall on a black towel stretched before a mirror.
This bathroom was equipped with a plastic-covered waterproof
chair, doubtlessly meant for a woman to use before the sink
mirror when applying makeup.  He had already spotted a footstool
in the sitting room upon which he might spread the black towel
that always accompanied him.  He need only place the footstool
before the wall mirror and sit in the chair over the footstool.
He was smiling in contemplation of evening fun before this mirror
when a soft knock sounded on the door.

It opened to reveal Anita, now in a brightly printed dress with
dark hair in a dancing ponytail, who smiled at him and said, "The
food's here.  Come on to dinner."

"I'm invited?" he asked in surprise.

She blinked.  "Unless you ain't hungry."

"Ah, uh, is this all right to wear?"  He had changed into a
short-sleeved shirt with open neck but still wore his pin-stripe
trousers.

"To wear?"  She cocked her head to study him.  "What's wrong?
Don't it fit?"

"Will, ah, my employers dress formally?"

Again she blinked.  Then she giggled.  "Oh, no.  They likes it
loose.  'Cept on Betsy and me."

"Loose?"  He shook his head and spoke slowly, as if addressing a
foreigner.  "Anita, what will ... Mr. Mainwaring wear ... to
dinner?"

She frowned.  "A robe."

"But I ... I don't have a robe."

"I'll get you one."

In a flash she was gone up the hall.  He shook his head and
waited at the door.  Shortly footsteps pounding softly on the
thick carpet announced her return.  He saw dainty feet at the end
of shapely calves.  She was barefooted despite the expensive,
carefully fitted dress.  She bore a garment of folded silk.
"Here.  Jack says it might be a little too long, but it oughta
fit."

He took the cloth.  "Jack?"

"You know: Jack Westfield."  She giggled.  "Just be glad I didn't
get you one of Lou's."

These girls called the men by their first names?  "Didn't I
understand they're your grandfathers?"

She frowned.  "You think I oughta call them 'grandpa?'  I'd have
to say 'Grandpa Jack' and 'Grandpa Lou.'  That's too much
trouble."

"I see.  Excuse me and I'll change."

She followed him as he retreated toward the bedroom.  Standing by
the bed, he turned with a hand on his first shirt button.  She
was leaning against the doorjamb, watching him.

"I said excuse me," he reminded her.

"For what?" she asked wonderingly.  "Need any help?  I love to
help a man take off his clothes."

Reggie choked.  A sudden warmth possessed him, overwhelming his
long-practiced caution.  He smiled at her and began speedily
undoing buttons.  Taking his smile as acquiescence, she entered
the room and came immediately to him.  Her hands descended upon
belt-buckle, waist-band and fly.  His suit pants descended.  She
followed them down, pausing to stare at the the flaccid organ
partly visible in the fly of his boxer shorts, gaping from
previous handling.  She smiled up at him, then knelt to unlace
his shoes.

"Raise your foot," she said, lifting a calf.

She even removed his socks.  In a jiffy he stood before her in
T-shirt and shorts.  She reached up, caught the waist of the
shorts and jerked them suddenly below his knees.  He gasped as if
someone had struck him in the belly and immediately covered his
manhood with both hands.

With the shorts now around his ankles, she directed, "Raise up
again."  Having divested him of the shorts, her hand rose under
his to slip slim fingers beneath the dangling member.  She nodded
approvingly.  "It's gonna be a nice one."  Reggie's mouth fell
open and he nearly fainted from pure astonishment.

She stood up, frowning impatiently.  Her hands went to his hips
to clutch the hem of the T-shirt.  "Come on, over your head.
Jack really gets pissed if'n you makes him wait to eat."

With the last undergarment thrown on the bed, she held the robe
open for him.  "Here ya go, Doc!"

As she belted the robe, he asked faintly, "Are you _sure_ it's
all right to go barefooted?"

"Huh!  On this carpet?  It's how I'm a-going."

With grave misgivings Reggie followed the girl down the hall to a
connecting hall and finally to a small dining room just off the
kitchen.  The two old men and the blonde slouched around the
table.  Five places were set, each with peaked napkin, silverware
for at least three courses, glasses of ice water, steaming coffee
cups and goblets of a deep red liquid.  The blonde wore a
well-fitted dress similar to the brunette and was likewise
barefooted.  The old men wore robes.  A third, much younger man
in formal clothes stood at the sideboard above silver covered
serving pans from which steam wafted in thin tendrils.

"You may serve," Jack told the servitor at sight of the two late
arrivals, adding with raised voice, "Come along, Reggie, and pull
up a chair.  I trust chateaubriand suits your palate."

"Yes, sir, of course," the young man answered, hesitating at the
door.  He cocked his head the better to see the others' feet
under the white tablecloth.  "I think I should go get my shoes."

Lou smiled expansively.  "Don't bother.  Anita talked you into
shucking them, did she?  Come ahead.  Young feet don't seem to
find this floor cold."

Lou's robe was open from upper paunch to neck.  The
pepper-and-salt hair of the old man's chest was readily apparent,
exhibiting the extreme informality of dress.  Feeling only
slightly better, Reggie took a trembling breath and followed
Anita to a seat at the table.

As he spread his napkin he declared with a sheepish grin, "Being
in Rome, as they say, I wanted to dress as the Romans."

"Rome, where?" asked Betsy, curling her lip.  "This is Belview,
Florida.  At least I think it is."  She cocked her head at Lou.
"Or is it Fort Lauderdale?"

Lou chuckled slightly.  "Reggie was speaking metaphorically, my
dear, which he will doubtless explain to you in the coming days."
He looked past the busy servitor to the new tutor.  "We don't
stand on ceremony here, Reggie.  Our only rule for dinner dress
is that men may not appear topless."

Jack stared at him.  "How was that rule promulgated?"

Lou grinned, still looking at the young newcomer.  "Well, it's my
house and I'm entitled to make the rules.  But of course life
here tends to be somewhat fluid.  If that rule binds you, Reggie,
speak up.  We'll see what we can do."

"What about girls?" demanded Anita.

Lou sniffed.  "It can hardly apply to them, can it?  They're not
men."

The servitor pushed his cart next to Reggie, carving knife poised
over the steaming tenderloin.  "Will you partake of the well-done
or the rare end, sir?"

"Ah, medium, thank you."

As the man loaded his plate, he heard Betsy ask, "You mean you
wants 'em to show their boobs?"  He strained to hear above the
clatter of serving spoons.

Lou shrugged with obviously pretended indifference.  "All I say
is, the rule doesn't apply to them."  He looked around at the
thinner old man in assumed concern.  "Or do you think it should,
Jack?"

"I say let them flop," Jack answered, winking at Reggie.

"Then it's unanimous," Lou declared.  "Females may appear topless
if they wish -- though they'd better be careful around this hot
gravy."

Betsy did not wait for the servitor to finish.  To Reggie's
astonishment, ignoring her silverware, she took a large roll from
the nearer breadbasket, tore it open between powerful hands and
stuffed her slab of tenderloin into it again with bare hands.
"Hot!" she exclaimed, thrusting the offended fingers into her
mouth.

Reggie took a breath, conscious that both old men were watching
him.  The servitor had finished and stood back in the kitchen
doorway.  Anita was pushing her peas and carrots into a
dessertspoon with her fingers, apparently waiting for her meat to
cool.  He was surprised but not actually disappointed to see no
salad.  With knife and fork he meticulously cut a bite of the
meat.  It was delicious.

For several minutes the conversation lagged in deference to the
serious business of eating.  The whole company was hungry.  The
girls' table manners were nonexistent but the old men ate
correctly.  Reggie was careful to adhere to mannerly behavior --
until something fluttered upon his knee from which the robe had
fallen away.  He stiffened, managing to withhold a gurgle of
surprise.  Did these people have a dog?

But this was no dog's tongue.  It crept up the inside of his
thigh and lifted his testicles.  A moment later something lightly
stroked the flaccid glans.

Successfully resisting a nearly overpowering urge to bend and
look under the table, he glared around at the other diners.  Only
the blonde Betsy, sitting exactly opposite him, returned his
stare.  Her eyes were dancing.  She laughed and coughed a bit of
food into her hand.

"Got choked?" inquired Anita.

"If you fool with it, it swells up," replied the blonde,
twinkling eyes locked upon Reggie's.

"You must've got a bad piece."

"Not of this meat!" declared Lou emphatically.

Anita shrugged.  "Well, don't fool with it, then.  Go ahead and
swallow."

"I'll try and do that," said the blonde, licking her lips
ostentatiously, still staring into Reggie's eyes.

Surreptitiously Reggie slipped his left hand under the
tablecloth.  Instantly the inflationary attention upon his
manhood ceased.  His hand contacted nothing.

"Drop your napkin?" Anita asked.  "That's what you get for
putting it in your lap."

"Aw, just reach down and pick it up," the blonde suggested.

In fact his napkin had fallen to the floor.  He bent swiftly to
retrieve it, briefly raising the edge of the tablecloth.  For an
instant his eye perceived blonde pubes between widespread shapely
legs and a skirt pulled up almost to the hips.

"Did you try the bearnaise sauce?" asked Lou when Reggie had
recovered to an upright position.  "This caterer uses a spiced
butter that adds incredible flavor."

When the servitor sprang to assist, the young man dutifully
accepted a ladleful upon his meat and made appropriate noises
after tasting it.  But he was working his own bare foot forward.
He braced himself on the table edge with his free hand as his
toes found the girl's calf and brushed quickly up her leg.  By
stretching he was able to plunge them into a nest of wiry hair.

He trembled, breath fluttering in his chest.  Then something
caught the arched foot and thrust two of his toes into a hot, wet
and infinitely soft cavity.

"What in the world?" demanded Jack, staring at their guest, whose
face was suddenly bright red.  "Are you not well, sir?"

The young man sighed forcefully, apparently exhaling a chest full
of air.  He slid sideways from his chair and fell to the tiled
floor, fork skittering noisily away.

Everyone stood.  Anita, seated at the head of table between
Reggie and the blonde, knelt beside him, pulling his head into
her lap.  The others crowded around, all but Jack, who ordered,
"Give him some air."

But Reggie shook his head violently left to right and rolled
forward, away from the girl.  "I'm all right," he declared,
rising to his feet and adjusting his robe.

"What happened to you?" demanded Jack.

Everyone was staring.  "Well, I, I ..."  Reggie cast about
desperately.  His hand raised the wine goblet, still half-full of
a deep red liquid.  "What kind of wine is this?"

"Steward?" Lou demanded, looking at the servitor.

The wide-eyed man cleared his throat.  "Claret Bordeauxlais 1974,
absolutely the best year since World War Two."

"Claret!" repeated Reggie.  "I'm very sorry.  I should have
remembered.  I am allergic to a constituent of claret.  It
interferes with my heartbeat."

Lou frowned.  "Do you have another beverage, steward?"

"Yes, sir: Pepsi-Cola, as the girls are drinking."

"Serve it to our guest, please."

Shortly another goblet was set before the discomfited young man
and the meal resumed.

"What's allergic mean?" asked Betsy, eyes twinkling upon
Reggie's.

Lou answered for him.  "When your body encounters a substance
that causes a strange reaction, you are said to be allergic to
it."

"Oh."  She stared peculiarly at the young man, who blushed again
and lowered his eyes.

Jack frowned.  "How long does it take you to recover from the
exposure, Reggie?"

"A few minutes," he responded hastily, aware of the new heat on
his face.  "But I'll be all right now.  Thanks very much for the
Pepsi."  He took a hearty swig.

"My compliments to the chef," Lou told the servitor a bit later
as the man cleared the main course.  "That meat was as fine as
any I ever had."

"Thank you, sir.  He'll be pleased to hear that."

"You may serve the dessert."

As concoctions topped with strawberries and whipped cream began
to appear around the table, Jack suggested, "Reggie, you
presented glowing references.  Perhaps you'd care to tell us
about your last employment.  With the Harbingers, I understand?"

The delicious strawberries suddenly lost their savor.  Could
those terrible people have said something on the phone?  But
Reggie had already considered how to answer this inevitable
question.  He swallowed, touched his napkin to his lips and said,
"Yes, sir.  My charges were the three Harbinger boys, ages eight
to 14, plus the chauffeur's daughter.  I'm afraid they were too
undisciplined for kindly instruction, especially the boys.  In
fact I believe the oldest is already enrolled in a Georgia
military academy."

Jack asked sympathetically, "Did they gang up on you?"

"Yes, sir, they did.  In the end I had to invoke the delinquency
clause of my contract."

He raised his chin slightly and waited to see if the old man
would ask him to explain his second-story defenestration, but
breathed a little easier when the next question proved to be,
"Before that you worked for the Ellingtons, is that right?"

"Yes, sir.  They had two daughters and the son of a servant.  I'm
afraid their problem was, ah, surreptitious unsuitable behavior.
The girls were at that difficult age."

"Two?"

"Twelve."

"They said you left for personal reasons."

"Yes."  Reggie sighed.  "I am not surprised they said so.  Indeed
my reasons were personal."

The three children had caught him in a very personal pursuit and
threatened him with exposure.  Reggie squared his shoulders,
expecting a demand for details, but Lou rescued him.

"Our girls are beyond all that.  They understand quite well about
personal matters and they wish to obtain the greatest benefit
from your instruction.  Jack and I only recently discovered
their, ah, deserving state.  I'm afraid their development was
academically neglected for the last four years."

"Sir, is it fair to ask how that happened?"

Lou cleared his throat.  "At age 14 their parents became unable
to care for them.  They more or less ran wild for the next four
years until we discovered their state.  We want you to help them
recover from that experience."

Jack grunted and warned, "Not too much recovery, now.  Your
assignment is not concerned with moral issues.  What they need
from you is polish:  etiquette, literature, English composition,
history, a little science and math."

Lou added, "Perhaps the most desirable improvement would be to
their accent and idiom."

"I ... see."

Lou inquired heartily, "What about it, girls?  Are you determined
to get the best from Reggie?"

"Oh, wow!" murmured Anita, eyes lit.

"Oh, we'll get the best!" the blonde declared.

After dinner Reggie vanished in order to "unpack," as he put it.
The girls retired to the TV den and a favorite television
program.  Lou groused to Jack, "Allergic to claret, indeed!  What
do you suppose really happened?"

Jack emitted a peal of laughter.  "You mean you didn't see his
dick?"

"What dick?"

"Poking out of his robe.  Fairly respectable one, I'd say."

"Really?  You make such judgments in the flaccid state?"

Again Jack laughed.  "Flaccid, hell!  That dick was hard as a
rubber mallet, or I miss my guess."

"But ... but how do you account for that?  What kind of allergy
--"

Now Jack was laughing without restraint.  "Allergy, my ass.
Those girls were doing something to him, you can be sure.  I'll
bet Anita -- no, Betsy -- had her foot in his balls."

"Hmph!"  Lou nodded appreciatively.  "In that case he recovered
rather well."

In the den Betsy disagreed.  She told the slim brunette, "So I
guess what Reggie's allergic to is my twat."

Anita shook her head resolutely.  "No, he ain't.  Didn't you see
his dick?"

"Huh?  You mean when you took him the robe.  How could I?"

"No.  I mean when he stuck his toe in your twat and passed out.
Oh yeah, I flipped his robe over it before you got around the
table.  He had a nice big hard-on, Betsy."

"He did?"  The blonde surged to her feet.  "Let's look.  Maybe
he'll take a leak."

In the bathroom of the maid's quarters naked Reggie was spreading
a black towel over the footstool, blissfully ignorant that the
mirror before him contained a pane of one way glass transparent
to those in the alcove of the secret room.

Those girls, especially the brunette, were the loveliest things
he could remember ever standing close enough to sniff.  And the
forward blonde!  His manhood leapt erect at the thought of what
she had done, so amazing, so literally overwhelming, so
deliciously sweet.  He caught the daring foot in his hands and
forced the toe under his nose, blissfully detecting the slight
residual of its recent immersion.

A muffled giggle sounded somewhere in the house, but he hardly
noticed.  He reached around the raised thigh, grasped the
straining member and began to pump it slowly, continuing to
breath the faint musk from his toes.  The thing in his hand was
alive and ready.  The greatest care was required to hold back its
exuberant determination to wet the spread towel.  The young man
groaned with the swelling thrill.

A breath of air warned him.  He turned suddenly to find Anita
standing in the doorway to the bedroom with an intent expression
her face.  He emitted a squeak, quickly lowered his foot and
snatched up the black towel to cover the engorged manhood.

"Oh, wow!" she exclaimed and licked her lips.  "I wanted to see
if you was all right after ... after supper."  Despite his
evident embarrassment she made no move to withdraw.

While his lips moved somewhat, he did not protest the intrusion.
He gazed at the lovely girl longingly.  Indeed, he thought, in
certain poses she could pass for the boy that Betsy had claimed,
but he was more excited by the femininity of her slight,
adolescent-seeming body.

"Want me to leave?" she asked.  Her eyes twinkled teasingly and
she struck a hipshot pose.

Visibly trembling, he nodded his head inconclusively, both up and
down and side to side.  She chuckled and entered the room to
stand so close that her hip pressed his arm.

"I closed the door behind me," she said quietly, placing her hand
on his shoulder.

He was dumbstruck, completely at a loss to respond to this
enticing, alluring girl.  He looked up at her with a stunned
expression on his mute face.

"Betsy said you like boys," she continued, almost whispering.
"Is that true?"  She gave his shoulder a squeeze.

With a choked, incomprehensible mumble he suddenly caught her
pale upper arm and stood to kiss her.  She recoiled instinctively
but briefly allowing the kiss, which was rough, passionate and
unpracticed, before gently pushing him away.

She tilted her head cutely, smiled and asked "You ain't done much
with girls, have you?"

"Twice before," he managed to get past quivering lips.  He
reached for her again but she swayed back.

"Were they pretty?"

He shook his head vehemently.  "They were whores."

"They made you pay?"  Her tone conveyed wonder.  Though he still
gripped the towel, it had fallen away.  She looked him frankly up
and down.  "But you're not a bad looking guy!"

"Ah, ah," he stuttered.  "You ... you think ..."

Anita twirled about once in the small room then stood before him
with an impish expression on her flawless face.  "Wanna play with
me, Reggie?"

"C-could I?"

"If'n you don't do nothing that hurts."

She stood very close before him.  He stared into her eyes.

"Oh, god, Anita, you are so lovely!"

Her hand came up to stroke his cheek.  Her eyes danced.  "This
dress is all I'm wearing."

His face showed sudden hunger.  His hands thrust towards her but
hovered indecisively.  "Ah, uh, how do you take it off?"

She laughed deep in her throat and clutched the skirt hem.  In a
jiffy the elastic garment passed over her head to land on the
floor.  He gasped at the sight of her jutting conical breasts and
hairy pubes.

"Come on," she urged, grasping his hand, leading him into the
bedroom.  His towel fell to the tile without another thought.

She lay on the bed with her legs hanging over the side, slightly
spread, arms stretched behind her, the picture of submission.  He
stared, wide-eyed and slightly flushed, at the lithe body and
eyes with a matching hunger.  Taking a deep breath, he lay beside
her, partly on her body.  His hand cupped a modest breast.

Though his body trembled, his mind cleared at last.  He realized
this lovely creature was there for him, for his exploring hands
and mouth, for his throbbing manhood.  He began with a kiss to
her lips, more gentle and controlled this time, then moved to
taste her doll-like body.  He exalted in his good fortune, in the
realization of a long held dream, while kissing her slender
thighs and nuzzling her groin with his face.  His first taste of
vaginal moisture was repellent.  He persevered and soon it became
ambrosia.  He licked her inexpertly but enthusiastically until
she squirmed and eventually cried out.

"Get on top," she demanded, twisting herself fully onto the bed.

In an instant he slipped between her raised thighs, penetrating a
warm tightness as she smiled up at him.  But it was over too
quickly.  After just a few excited strokes his pleasure shot
forth into her.

He came to his senses as if dashed with cold water.  Gentlemen,
he had read, do not linger with the girl bearing their greater
weight.  He rose off her, withdrawing to kneel between her legs.

"What's the matter?" she demanded with a frown.  Her hand darted
between her legs.  "Oh, no!  Already?"

"I ... I'm sorry.  You ...  You're just too stimulating."

But her frown changed slowly to a smile.  "Let's go into the
other room, the classroom with the large bed.  You'll last longer
next time."

"Next time?  You mean you want to do it again?  I'd like that, of
course, and I can promise you I'll last.  My second time always
takes longer.  When I get to my fifth, nothing comes out although
I remain hard."

"You did a girl five times in a row?"  The small brunette was
clearly impressed.

"Oh, no.  I didn't mean that!  I sometimes spend an entire
afternoon jacking off, and when I really get going my thing can
remain stiff for hours."  He slapped his turgid cock against her
thigh to emphasize the point.

"Wow!" she exclaimed.  "That's really something!  You oughta be
on TV."  She giggled.  "But they won't let you, will they?"

"I could do you again right here, if you like.  This time I might
make you feel good."

Anita stared at the man, not believing anyone his age could be so
naif.  He was almost like a child.  She raised her knees and
reached out her arms in invitation, but at that moment a nearby
rumble distracted them both, as if someone had dropped a sack of
potatoes, followed by wild feminine giggling.

"Let's go get on the other bed," Anita demanded, squirming to a
sitting position.  She looked at him with calculation.  "Can you
do two girls?"

"Two girls?  At the same time?"  He was a picture of
befuddlement.  He pondered a moment.  "One after the other, I
suppose."  He crawled backwards off the bed.

Betsy was waiting when they arrived in the classroom of mirrors.
She lay poised like an odalisque in the middle of the large bed
with a sheet pulled across just one naked leg.  She stared at the
man, who had stopped barely in the room at the sight of her, and
licked her lips lasciviously.  Anita pushed him closer.

"Come here, Doc," the blonde cooed, throwing aside the sheet and
rubbing her thighs and groin obscenely.  "Five times, eh?"  Her
eyes dropped and widened.  "Hey, it _is_ still hard!"

Again, Anita propelled him forward with a shove from behind.  He
fell half onto the bed, both hands resting on the blonde's knees.
With a squawk he darted, tongue extended, toward her moist,
tangled groin, but she grabbed his hair and pulled him atop her.

"Don't waste time on that," she scolded, and like an octopus
enfolded him with sumptuous, youthful limbs.

"Oh, god!" she exclaimed as he sank his shaft into her unerringly
on the first thrust.

Anita moved from one position to another, craning wide-eyed to
see the furious thrusting.  The large bed began to thump against
the wall.  Betsy's face soon recorded the onset of an orgasm.

Moaning, the blonde wrapped arms and legs around her partner's
body, crushing him down upon her own.  Her hips rolled vigorously
as his.  A general ruddiness descended both bodies from faces to
thighs.

"Look at that!" Lou cried, staring through the one-way glass.

"Christ!"  Jack's hand pressed to his chest.  "It gives me a
heart attack to watch."

The young man was unrelenting even when the girl began to shout
incoherently, her voice wavering above the furious action.  Their
bodies were coated in perspiration despite the air conditioning.
Only when the blonde's ecstatic cries gave way to piteous
whimpers did he slow the pace, ceasing his strokes when she lay
limply beneath him.

He cast an appraising glance at the smaller girl, now lying
beside them, legs spread in readiness, an expression of wondrous
expectation on her cute face.  Without a word he was quickly off
the blonde and upon her.  His wild thrusting resumed into the
brunette, although after a couple of minutes he gasped and went
still, pelvis pressed tightly to hers.

"You promised!" Anita complained bitterly, just short of her
orgasm.

After taking several deep breaths he resumed, slowly at first but
soon with his previous manic abandon.  The little one recaptured
her lost ecstasy to cry aloud victoriously, on and on.

"I don't believe this!" breathed the watching Jack, his
expression showing both amazement and chagrin.

"She won't expect that from you, Jack," Lou assured his friend.
"Good!  Betsy is sitting up.  I was about to go check on her."

Betsy leaned over to kiss the brunette but was roughly shoved
aside.  Apparently Anita needed her mouth free to gasp for
breath..

Soon she too succumbed to the man's inexhaustible vigor.  Her
wails reverberated in the spacious room, causing Betsy to pummel
the man's shoulder.

When the tutor rolled off the brunette to lie on his back,
breathing like a racehorse, Jack could not contain himself.

"Look at that cock!" he exclaimed.  "It's still hard as a steel
pole!" 

Lou also marveled at the rigid instrument, but his immediate
concern was for the record.  "Did we get all that, you think?"

"Yeah, but we'd better reload," Jack answered, checking the VCRs,
one for each of the three cameras.  "Better help me.  This guy is
going for the gold today."

"The poor girls," Lou sighed perhaps ironically, breaking the
seal on another cassette.

"Poor girls, my ass!" his more literal companion responded in a
huff.  "They loved it, even though Anita didn't conk out like
your Betsy."

"Conk out, ha!  She just ran out of breath.  Let _her_ get on top
one time!"

"Oh, I'm sure they'll try it.  That cock of his could become a
threat to us, you know."

"I don't think so, Jack.  He might fuck them blind, but tomorrow
at breakfast he'll be the same educated duffus as before."

"Perhaps so," the taller man agreed grudgingly, then stared
wide-eyed through the mirror.  "Christ!  He's going at them
again!"



* * *



"Pay me," Lou commanded, digging Jack in the ribs as they entered
the huge kitchen.

At the sound of his voice, the young man between the two girls,
alternately accepting spoons of cereal from either, shoved his
chair back and jumped suddenly to his feet.  Their other hands
fell away, exposing a stiff erection.

"Ah, ah ..." he began, a blush descending his naked torso.

"Keep your seat!" Lou directed, motioning him down.  "The rule
that men must come to dinner dressed does not apply to
breakfast."

"B-but ..."

"No, I mean it.  Girls, help him sit back down.  Anita, it was
your spoon.  Wipe that cereal off his chest."

"I do have a robe," Reggie protested. "They just made, ah, they
just --"

"I understand," declared Lou with a deprecating wave.  "But Jack
and I are about to steal your companions.  Do you think you can
eat your cereal without their help?"

Having served the old men, the naked girls ignored the young man
and indulged their usual morning ritual instead.  They sat in
their benefactors' laps to feed them, each enjoying a breast
massage while smiling slyly and looking askance at Reggie to see
his reaction.

"Did you have a question, Reggie?" asked Jack.

"I did."  The young man pushed his empty bowl away and wiped his
mouth with the resurrected napkin.  "But you have answered it."

"Does this bother you?" Lou asked, ostentatiously squeezing the
blonde's large breast until the pink nipple thrust oddly to the
side.

The young man blushed.  "I guess it would have yesterday," he
admitted, "but after last night ..."  He squared his shoulders
and raised his chin.  "You must know how we spent the night."

"We know it perfectly," admitted Lou.  "But answer my question.
Does such non-grandfatherly intimacy cause you a problem?"

Reggie shrugged.  "The rich make their own rules."  He smiled
slowly.  "I begin to see what you meant."

"What was that?"

"The reason for your injunction to teach no morality."

"Very good.  Some qualities are best left in their natural
state."

Jack added, "But we're serious about the other subjects."

"With your permission I shall begin this morning."

"Please do," said Lou with a nod.  "Let go of my dick, Betsy, and
warm up this coffee, please."



* * *



"Ah, you're finally back!"

Jack looked into the bedroom where Lou was changing from loud
shirt, shorts and sneakers -- external clothing -- to robe and
slippers for internal wear.  The shorter man looked up with a
rueful grin.  "Yeah.  The doc wanted to talk to me."

"The OB-GYN man?  My god, she doesn't have some kind of disease,
does she?"

"No."  Lou chuckled.  "Nothing like that."  He cocked his head at
his friend.  "You look rested."

Jack smiled expansively.  "Well, I ought to.  I _am_ rested.
Reggie departed for those school supplies right after you and
Betsy, and 'Nita looked me up.  You were right, you know, if not
exactly as specified.  Indeed Reggie is not the threat to us that
he would seem.  They're getting wary of him.  He wears them out!"

Lou chuckled again.  "Yeah, Betsy said as much in the car.  They
love his energy, but oddly it makes them appreciate us the more.
And he's a good fuck, but he lacks a sense of humor.  He's no
fun."

Jack nodded.  "'Nita and I spent a restful hour that she actually
seemed to relish.  She said some nice things about my dick and
about your generosity.  I believe our girls are coming to have a
high regard for their two 'spry uncles.'"

"Then you took a nap?"

"After I showed 'Nita how to play back the capture from the
overhead camera.  She loves to see herself come.  I left her
watching the digital zoom-up on her face while Reggie was
pounding her other end."

"They both love to watch themselves fuck."

Jack sniffed.  "You would too if your body looked like theirs."

"I guess so.  Where in hell did I throw that left slipper?"

"Did you look under the bed?"  Jack chuckled.  "'Nita passed on
some news about poor Reggie that he gave out off camera in the
den last night."

"About his students tossing him out a second story window?" Lou
asked, huffing as he knelt on the floor to peer under the super
king bed.

"There's the control on your nightstand," Jack noted impatiently.
"Why don't you raise it up?  So Betsy told you while you were
out, did she?"

With a grunt the obese man rose to one knee, operated the remote
control and waited while the power bed rose clear of the floor.
"Yeah.  She also said the Ellington children caught him jacking
off."

"There it is, in the back.  Did she tell you he started to jack
off after dinner the other night?"

Lou retrieved the slipper, crawled back out from under the bed
and hit the reset button on the control.  While the bed lowered
itself, he shuffled foot into slipper and looked up with
satisfaction.  "No, she didn't.  Jack off?  Are you kidding?  He
fucked both of them silly.  I would've bet no one man could do
that."

Jack chuckled and shook his head.  "Apparently that's how he
developed such stamina.  All his life wanking has been his only
entertainment.  He has spent hours per day at it for a great many
years."

Lou blinked.  "He admitted that, did he?"

"According to 'Nita."  The tall man laughed.  "They felt sorry
for him and swore he'd never have to do it again."  He raised a
hand.  "No, don't start worrying.  They already regret making
such a promise.  'Nita actually said it while she was holding my
dick.  'Let him jerk.  I'm gonna stick with this one.'"

Lou grunted.  "Did Reggie say how long he'd be gone?"

"He mentioned some personal business.  I think he wants to buy a
robe and slippers of his own.  I don't expect him till late."

"Good.  We've got an important issue to discuss with the girls,
with Betsy at least, though it's no use trying to exclude Anita.
Betsy would never stand for it."

The tall man goggled.  "Whatever are you talking about?"

"Betsy is pregnant, about seven weeks gone."  Lou grinned
suddenly from ear to ear. "And it's probably my kid!"



* * *



"I missed two rags," Betsy explained, "the first about a week
after that night on the beach with Lou, the next just last week."

They were sitting at dinner in the dinette off the kitchen.  It
was another catered meal though less formal, with pre-prepared
sandwiches, iced cold duck and a tray of additional fixings,
requiring no hovering servitor.  Reggie was still absent.  The
girls, dressed in bikini bottoms, were testing Lou's rule that
only male chests needed covering.  When Jack spilled his drink,
he was able to blame it on the distraction produced by Lou's
"inadequate rule" -- and Anita's jutting breasts.  Anita had
cleaned up the mess, pushing him back into his seat with a
surprisingly effective nipple in his ear.

"What about you, 'Nita?" Jack asked.

"Me?"  The brunette grinned at him and fluttered her eyelashes.
"_You_ know I ain't missed nothing.  Huh!"  Her eyes widened
introspectively.  "I mean you know I _didn't_ miss nothing."

"That was really a period?"

She laughed.  "You didn't think you cut your dick a-shaving!"

"Ah, no."  Jack blushed slightly.

Lou stared, grinning.  "You didn't actually do her in the middle
of a period!"

Jack explained quickly, "I think I brought it on."

Lou became serious.  "The question is what should we do next?
Betsy," he asked, turning to her,  "have you thought about what
this means to you?"

The blonde shrugged.  "Means I'm gonna have a baby, I reckon."

"Not necessarily.  You're still well inside the first trimester.
All the options are available to you.  I checked when I talked to
your GYN."

"What's a GYN?" asked the brunette.

"It's a doctor," Jack answered.  "You also have an appointment
with one, on Thursday."

"Another doctor?"

Betsy sniffed, "A pussy doctor!  What options you talking about,
Lou?"  Suddenly her hands closed on her belly.  "I ain't gonna
let you yank no baby out'n me!"

Lou's eyes flashed.  "I personally guarantee, my dear, that
nothing will happen to you that you don't want."

She stared at him.  "You mean it?"

"I haven't told you all of it, honey.  When the doctor mentioned
the likelihood on your first visit last week, I let him take an
ear scraping from me.  You and I have what they call 'high
compatibility DNA.'  This means your baby has a very good chance
of being mine too."

Her eyes widened.  "Can't they tell for sure?"

"In a couple months when they're able to draw some amniotic
fluid."

"Some what?"

"The fluid in your belly that floats the baby.  Right now you
don't have enough to take a sample."

She licked her lips, studying him.  "You ... _you_ caught me,
Lou?"

He grinned hugely but wiped it immediately off his face.  "We
don't know for sure yet, honey."

"I hope it _was_ you," she said in a low voice, staring into his
eyes.

His hand covered hers on the tabletop and he said huskily, "Thank
you, you little darling."

Jack cleared his throat.  "If it's your baby, Lou ..."

Lou took a breath, anticipating his friend's words.  "I've
thought about that."

"And?"

"We would make a grotesque couple.  I certainly don't want people
pointing and tittering at us, and I won't saddle her with such a
burden.  But I'm seeing my lawyer this week.  Believe me, our son
will be completely provided for."

"Son!"  Jack barked a laugh.

The blonde frowned in puzzlement.  "What burden?"

Lou straightened his shoulders.  "Jack means that I ought to ask
you to marry me.  If I were 20 years younger -- hell, even _ten_
-- I would've already done that."

"M-marry you?"  She stared in wonder for a moment, chuckled with
evident pleasure, then shook her head.  "Ma said never get
married.  Grannie too."

Jack asked, "'Nita, what's your advice on that?"

The brunette had been listening avidly.  "My Ma said the same
thing.  We ain't -- aren't -- the marrying kind."  She grinned.
"We likes the boys too much."

"And the spry grandpas," added Betsy with a grin towards Jack.
"All of them."  She raised Lou's hand to her lips.  "But one is
the best."  Her eyes lit.  "Wow, Lou, it's gonna be real fun
chasing your kid around this big place!  I can't wait."

Anita got up and stood behind Jack's chair.  She kneaded his
shoulders aimlessly.  He craned his head to look up to her
inquiringly.  The expression on her young face was pensive.

"What is it, pumpkin?"

"I want one too," she answered quietly but emphatically, "if'n
you takes care of me and my baby like Lou says he will Betsy."

Eyes wide and mouth agape, Jack stared around in horror at his
friend, busy cuddling the blonde to himself with a blissful
smile.


END Episode 5
Next:  _Thelma Greeley_

Contacts
   Varangian:  ludmax11@hotmail.com
   Kellis:  kellis@dhp.com

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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