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Message-ID: <36805asstr$1024121404@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: kellis <kellis@dhp.com>
MIME-Version: 1.0
Subject: {ASSM} Promise Delayed {Kellis} (MF oral)
Date: Sat, 15 Jun 2002 02:10:04 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


Promise Delayed

a Short Story
Copyright (c) June, 2002, Kellis





"Why do you let yourself look so bad?"

The girl, kneeling to ply her scrub brush among the half-dried
streaks of chocolate ice cream, raised her head as if he had
jerked it up by the chin.  Her employer's gaudy garrison cap
partly restrained the unkempt brown hair.  Her face was unmade.
A large yellow zit adorned the point of her chin.  Her body was
concealed in a loose-fitting uniform.  Yet the lines of her face
and her figure, revealed by the garment stretched tight for
kneeling, were appealing.

She looked over her shoulder at the managers behind the far
counter, then back at him.  Her face tightened for a savage
retort, but her eyes flicked from his patent-leather shoes, up
the pin-striped pants leg, lingering briefly on the matching suit
coat and maroon silk tie, to a clean-shaven face and the still
sufficient hair on his head, white but well-combed.  Her face
lost its fierceness as she visibly reconsidered her answer.  Her
eyes sparkled.  "If you trade jobs with me you'll know."

He smiled inwardly at this evidence that clothes do make the man,
at least when he's over 60, doubting that even youth would obtain
the same moderate response to such an impertinent question.

He inserted sympathy into his voice.  "Is it hard for you?"

"Not hard," she countered, "just stupid.  They argued for 30
minutes who was supposed to clean up this spill before they told
me to do it.  It's almost dried and ten times harder to get up.
I don't see how this place makes enough money to --"

Her voice choked off.  She glanced around, noticing that at this
hour of the afternoon only two other customers remained in the
dining area, and none nearby.  She turned back, eyes flashing
suspiciously.  "What are you, some kind of company inspector?"

He laughed gently and shook his head.  "No, my dear.  What I am
is a man with a problem, and I think you could help me with it."

"_I_ could help you?" she demanded incredulously.

"You.  I note that you have a problem, too.  We can help each
other.  Sit down and let's talk about it."

She blinked at him.  "They'd fire me."

"So?"  He cocked an eyebrow at her.  "I suspect a large part of
your problem is that you think you need this job."

She straightened up, still kneeling, and took a deep breath.  A
curious mixture of expressions chased across her face.  She 
swallowed.  "I'd lose my place to stay if I didn't have a job."

"Is it such a nice place?" he asked.

"Huh!"

"There are many places to stay, my dear."  He wiped his face with
his napkin.  "I look at you and realize we're at opposite ends of
the same problem.  A beautiful woman is hidden in you, while
somewhere in me hides a passionate man.  I'd be willing to bet we
can find what we want in each other."

"You ... you mean ..."

He smiled and gestured at the floor.  "Finish cleaning this up,
if you wish, but think over what I've said and how you feel about
it."  He got to his feet.  "I'm in that metallic blue Cadillac
just outside.  I'll wait a few minutes."

He turned on his heel toward the main door.

"Gail!" barked a voice behind her.  "I'm not paying you to goof
off."

She dropped the brush in sudden decision and rose to her feet,
abandoning brush, bucket and wet floor.  "You're right, Mr.
Johnson," she said, walking around the end of the counter toward
her locker in the rear.  "You're not paying me." 

* * *

Waiting in the car with engine and air-conditioner running and
the cell phone in his ear, he made the necessary calls, reasoning
that if his judgment proved poor he could always cancel them.  He
was pleased with himself, even if he had to start over.  Such a
mixture of fear and hope on her face!  He had to chuckle with
anticipatory delight.

Soon he saw her come around the building, head down, a slattern
in dirty canvas shoes, ragged jeans and a T-shirt stained in
spots but well-filled with pointy young breasts.  The front of it
proclaimed, _Don't let the bongs bang you!_  He unlocked the
doors.  She reached the car and fell into the front seat.  She
was breathing hard.

"Any trouble?" he asked.

She looked up wide-eyed.  "They offered me a raise to stay."

He nodded.  "It's so annoying to train a replacement, not to
speak of the mountain of paper-work.  You turned them down, I
take it."

"Yeah.  Guess I was a fool, huh?"

He chuckled.  "No, dear, you're no fool.  Buckle up and we'll be
off."

She snapped the belts over herself, asking, "Off where?"

"I've made several appointments for you, which by and large I
think you'll like.  Your name is Gail?"

"Yeah.  Gail."

"Do you want to leave it at that?"

"For now."

"As you wish.  I'm Perry Fyffe, 61 years old.  How old are you?"

"Twen--  Nineteen."

"Which?"

"Twenty-one."

He laughed.  "As you wish, Gail, who is 21 when not 19.  Are you
a virgin?"

"That's none of your goddam --  No, I'm not."

"Good."

"You think so?"  She sniffed.  "According to all the jokes, you
dirty old -- I mean, middle-aged men want virgins."

"This is no joke, Gail, as you'll see."

The car ducked into the busy traffic.

He could feel her stare.  She asked, "Oh, god, what have I let
myself in for now?"

"Opportunities, Gail."

She sniffed.  "The last guy who told me that wanted to rent me to
his buddies the next day."

"Did you agree?"

"I was stoned."

"But did you agree?"

"I walked out as soon as I figured out what he was doing."

"Good."

She asked with a note of surprise, "You don't have that in mind?"

He glanced around at her with an amused chuckle.  "Thinking it
was possible, you came along anyway?"

She sighed.  "You caught me at the wrong moment, I guess."

"I hope not.  Gail, don't make up your mind yet."

She sniffed.  "I won't jump out at the next stop light."

He chuckled.  "But you've thought of it, haven't you?"

"Yeah."  She looked out the window.  "And I've also thought how I
just burned my bridges."

They rode for a minute or two before she finally asked, "Where
are we going?"

"I noticed your T-shirt.  Do you use drugs, Gail?"

She snorted.  "On _that_ salary?"  She took a breath.  "I don't
any more."

"Good.  Do you smoke?"

"No."

"Are you healthy?"

In the corner of his eye he saw her lip curl.  "I don't have
AIDS, if that's what you mean."

He smiled.  "We'll soon find out for sure.  You have an
appointment, two hours from now, with a Dr. Meyers, for a
complete physical."

"A what?  A _physical_?  I don't need --"  But her argument was
interrupted as the car lurched over a traffic bumper.  "What's
this, a motel?"

"I thought you might want a shower before you saw the doctor."

"Take me home first.  I can't go to the doctor looking like
_this_!"

He smiled knowingly.  "Don't worry about that.  You'll look fine,
I promise you."

A black maid, bent over her equipment cart, raised her head as
they walked down the corridor from the side entrance.  She looked
from the frowzy girl to the business-suited man, grunted and
shook her head.  Gail raised her bezitted chin and marched on.

Perry let her into the standard room with a single double bed.
She paused at the foot and watched him close the door.  When she
only stood waiting, he gestured toward an interior door.  "Get
your shower."

She drew a deep breath.  "What do you want from me, Perry?"

"I want you to take a good shower, but don't squeeze that zit.
Let the doctor fix it."

She almost chuckled.  "You sound like a father."

"Well, I'm certainly not yours."

Her lip curled.  "I suppose you'll get in the shower with me."

He shook his head.  "I'll dry your back, if you ask."

She sniffed skeptically.  "All you want is for me to take a
shower?"

"And wash your hair.  They told me they would put a hair dryer in
the john."

She said nothing more.  Never taking her eyes off him, she
proceeded to strip herself naked.  Under the shirt and jeans she
wore only a threadbare brassiere and panties.  She evinced no
modesty, proceeding as quickly and methodically as if she were
alone.  His judgment had been correct: her body was slim but well
shaped.  Indifferently she exposed unshaven pubes and the
high-riding, conical nipples of a very young woman, suggesting
that she had overstated her age.

She piled her clothing, shoes and all, on the foot of the bed and
pointed to them.  "I guess I can trust you not to steal my
wallet."

"Even if it's full of money, Gail."

She snorted.  "Money!  I just don't want to lose my driver's
license."

"I'm glad to hear that you have one."

She grinned.  "Don't you think I'm old enough?"

"Your breasts suggest otherwise."

She frowned.  "What's wrong with my boobs?  Everybody else loves
them!"

"I didn't say I don't love them.  But they're sharp enough for a
fourteen-year-old's."

"Sharp?"

"Not so full and round as they will be in a few years.  May I
look at your license while you shower?"

She shrugged and turned away before answering over her shoulder,
"You will anyway."  She passed through the door and pulled it
closed behind her.  In a moment he heard the spray of water.

Her wallet held a picture of an older woman, eight dollars in
cash and a driver's license.  The picture on the license matched,
aside from better grooming.  The name was Gail Enid Larson and
contrary to the tit evidence, she had reached her twentieth
birthday two months earlier.  The older woman resembled Gail only
slightly in mouth and chin.  Even her hair was a different color.

She was almost a half hour in the bathroom, the last ten minutes
accompanied by the roar of a hair dryer.  She emerged with a
white bath towel wrapped around her.  Her face was shining and
her hair fluffed prettily around it in natural waves.

He smiled.  "Discovered modesty, Gail?"

"I thought I heard you talking --  What's that?"  She stared at
the colorful plastic-wrapped clothing on the bed beyond her own
dingy discards.

"Something to wear to the doctor.  Try them on.  The woman said
they should fit you as well as what you took off."

Her lip curled.  "Some woman went through my stuff?"

"Only to verify the size."

Off came the towel, thrown over a chair, but instead of reaching
immediately for the new clothes, she paused at the foot of the
bed as she had before, her fists clenched.  "I shaved, too," she
told him.

Indeed her pubes were narrower.

He nodded.  "Good, though I didn't intend to buy you a bikini
right away."

She sniffed impatiently.  "I mean my legs and underarms."

"Very good."

Her eyebrows rose.  "Is that all you have to say?"

He smiled slightly.  "And you used the motel's cologne.  That's
fine."  He gestured to the clothing.  "Better try it on."

Her eyes narrowed.  "What do you want, Perry?"

"You, of course."

"Well, here I am.  I even used some of their K-Y."

He studied her thoughtfully.  "Try on the new clothes."

She sniffed, but bent to the plastic wrappings.  The new
brassiere proved a bit tight but usable when she had turned her
back for him to adjust the clasp to its widest setting.  The rest
fit well enough: panties, a translucent black slip, a white silk
blouse and a knee-length skirt.

She held up a package of panty-hose then dropped it back to the
bed.  "My legs don't need this."

He nodded.  "You're right.  They're perfect."

"I'm glad you noticed _something_! ...  They'd just get in the
way.  The first thing doctors want is to poke you, like all the
other guys."

"This is a woman doctor."

"Huh!  You think I'd rather be poked by a _woman_?"

He spread his hands.  "You're right: this will be an intimate
examination.  I thought you'd be more comfortable with a strange
doctor if she were female.  Was I wrong?"

She stood skeptically with hands on her hips.  "Perry, you do
know this is kind of weird, don't you?  Who needs a doctor?  If
you're that cautious, why did you even bother to pick me up?"

He studied her.  "Caution has little to do with it."

"Then _what_?"  She giggled suddenly.  "Don't tell me you think
I'm your long lost daughter or niece or something!  I know all
about my damn family."

"I wouldn't tell you that."  He glanced at his wristwatch.
"We've got half an hour to kill.  Are you hungry?"

"I could use a snack."

He gestured at the telephone.  "See what room service will get
you.  I'll have a black decafe."

With the instrument against her ear she regarded him
interrogatively while she ordered a medium-rare fillet and
overstuffed potato with a coke and a black decafe.  He shrugged
and commented when she hung up, "A _snack_?"

She grinned, showing her teeth.  "I like the best cuts."

"Who taught you that?"

Her chin came up.  "I wasn't always a fast-food floor scrubber."

"No," he agreed, "I noticed you wore an angora sweater for your
driver's license picture.  What happened to you, Gail?"

Grimacing, she turned away and answered with her back to him,
"The usual."

"What's the usual these days?"

"I mean the usual for a girl scrubbing floors."

"Do you want me to guess?"

She sighed.  "I got pregnant.  After he paid for the abortion, my
stepfather threw me out."

"Old fashioned, was he?"

She faced him again, one eyebrow cocked.  "He was jealous."

"What did your mother have to say about it?"

"Nothing.  The last husband walked out on her.  She was a door
mat for the third."

"But you have a good face and figure.  I can't believe only a
fast-food joint would hire you."

She shrugged with a sniff.  "I went the good-face-and-figure
route.  Nearly got hooked on crack.  Got pregnant again with no
idea who put it in me.  Lost the baby at three months.  I
couldn't stand _that_!  Ran away from my 'boy friend'" -- her
voice was heavy with contempt -- "and took an honest job even if
it killed me."  She drew a deep breath.  "But I'm no good, I
guess."  She shook her head.  "I just know I was damned tired of
cleaning floors."  She took another breath and faced him
squarely.  "I thought if I had to work on my knees anyway, it
might as well be fun."

His eyebrows rose above a slight grin.  "You want me to believe
you think that's fun?"

"It is when he returns the favor."

Perry chuckled.  "Point taken."

He urged her to eat quickly when the order arrived.  She
complied, sitting on the bedside, but around her mouthfuls of
food she asked, "What about you?"

"Me?  What do you want to know?"

"You married?"

"Yes."

"It figures.  What do you do?"

"Nothing.  You could say I'm retired."

"What _did_ you do?"

"I was a business man.  My partners bought me out."

"For a lot of money?"

"Oh, yes."

"And you're 61?"

"Last May."

She studied him as she chewed, then gestured at herself.  "What
did you pay for these clothes?"

He shrugged.  "I don't know."

That produced a sardonic grin.  "Not enough to matter, huh?"

"Right."  He regarded his wristwatch.  "You don't have to eat all
that, you know.  I promise to feed you an even larger dinner.
Run and use that toothbrush in the bathroom."

Her eyes narrowed in resentment at first.  She shook her head
sadly.  "You're going to pull all my strings, aren't you?"

"At first," he admitted, then smiled.  "Run along, little
puppet."

She stood over him where he sat in the room's one padded chair.
"You haven't so much as touched me."

He regarded her thoughtfully.  "This troubles you?"

"It does.  I don't know where you're coming from."

He reached out, caught her arm and pulled her down upon him.  His
hands cupped her head, bringing her face to his.  He kissed her
lips, a fatherly peck, before releasing her.  "Is that any
better?"

She sniffed and answered, "Only a little," before turning away to
the bathroom.

* * *

When Gail had dressed after her examination, a nurse conducted
her to Dr. Meyers' private office.  The doctor, a businesslike
middle-aged woman, asked, "Do you mind if Mr. Fyffe joins us?"

Gail shrugged.  "He's paying for it."

The woman nodded and remarked tartly, "Indeed he is!  Go fetch
him from the waiting room, please.  Take two rights in the hall."

When they returned, Gail readily surrendered the patient's chair
to Perry and leaned against the wall, her hands crossed behind
her.  Her fluffed hair had kept its tidiness during the dressing
and undressing.  The oversized pimple on her chin was presumably
gone, the spot covered by a tiny Band-Aid.  She returned the
man's smile of admiration.

But the doctor was solemn.  "Our young lady has had some problems
and may still have a few.  It will be a couple of days before we
have results on the cultures and blood work -- that is, before I
can give you a conclusive report."

Gail demanded, "What problems?"

The doctor returned her stare.  "You have had gonorrhea,
Chlamydia and syphilis."

The girl's eyebrows rose.  "_Have_ had?"

"We'll know what, if anything, remains after the results I
mentioned are received.  You have scarring inside the mouth,
vagina, cervix and rectum that are consistent with those diseases
and with your sexual history, and you have suffered at least one
major PID infection."

"PID?"

"Pelvic Inflammatory Disease, a common and very dangerous disease
of sexually active women."  The woman hesitated, then continued.
"In fact it was PID that terminated your second pregnancy and not
the orgy you prefer to blame."

The girl's eyes widened but she did not comment.

The doctor grunted and shuffled some of the papers on her desk.
"You were hospitalized when you lost the fetus?"

"Afterwards, because I bled a great deal."

"Yes.  I'm sure they detected your problems, even if they didn't
tell you, and prescribed the antibiotics to stop the disease.
I'll do the same if the lab reports a recurrence -- that is, if
you remain with Mr. Fyffe."

Gail shrugged.  "That's up to him."

"Then you'll remain," the man declared flatly.  "Dr. Meyers, I
take it Gail shows no present symptoms of disease."

"That is generally correct.  Her genital and lower digestive
tracts exhibit scarring, as I said, and evidence of some
structural damage is present, especially to the Fallopian tubes,
but she reports regular and normal menstrual periods.  Unless I
hear something contrary from the lab, I must pronounce her in
good health with strong sphincters and probably fertile."

"Then thank you very much."

"She is not presently on birth control.  I have written a
prescription for contraceptives, but they will need a few days to
become effective."

"Ah, yes, ma'am.  Thank you for your concern."



* * *



In the car Gail groused, "Doctors aren't supposed to tell all
that about their patients."

"That's right."

"Even to the one who's paying the bill."

"Normally that's right, too.  But I am also Dr. Meyers' patient."

"You are?  A woman doctor?"

He grinned.  "I much prefer a woman's hands on me than a man's."

"Oh."  After a moment's thought she continued, "Even so, she
shouldn't have told you about all my diseases."

"They don't make any difference to me, Gail.  You heard her.  She
thinks you're cured of them.  How long have you been ... keeping
away from men?"

"I quit hooking five months ago."

"Hooking?  You thought of it that way?"

"Well, maybe not."  He saw her grin from the corner of his eye.
"It's not as if they were lining up to get at me.  Jarvis only
got me a john when he needed the money for a hit."

"How often, Gail?"

"Two or three times a week, sometimes more."

"Well, if you stay with me your hooking days are over."

He felt the weight of her gaze.  She asked sweetly, "You mean
with more than one john?"

He chuckled.  "A bigger difference than that."

"What?"

"You won't get paid by the trick."

"Oh."  She sniffed.  "_I_ never saw any of the money anyway!"
She looked around.  "Where are we going?"

"We could go to dinner," he said, "but you're not hungry, are
you?  Let's go look at something, _then_ we'll go to dinner."

"Look at what?"

She chimed in simultaneously with his answer.  "You'll see."

He grinned and explained, "I guess I like to surprise you."

"So far they've been nice surprises -- except for the doctor's
needles.  She's in cahoots with you somehow, isn't she?"

He flicked her a glance away from traffic.  "You're a smart girl,
Gail.  How the hell did you ever get under a pimp's thumb?"

She shook her head.  "Guess I'm a sucker for men's thumbs.  Other
parts, too.  Of course the doctor good as told you I've had men
all over me."  She sniffed.  "'Strong sphincters!'"

He grinned.  "Important muscles, sphincters."

Again he felt the weight of her gaze.  "Because it means I'm
still a good lay?"

"More than that, smart girl.  I told you I have a problem, too.
Dr. Meyers and I have discussed how to solve it."

Gail laughed.  "She prescribed a girl, did she?"

He chuckled.  "You can't get those at the drugstore."

"Huh!  Don't the taxi drivers still know how to find them?"

"Gail, that kind won't work."

"Oh.  Then you admit you want me for sex?"

He grunted.  "Don't forget companionship."

She sniffed and said nothing more.  Each time he glanced in her
direction he found her studying him.



* * *



"But this is a regular house," she noted as he unlocked the front
door, "402 Mebane Street.  Who lives here?"

He grinned, opened the door and stood back for her to precede
him.  "You do."

"Wh-what?"  She hurried past the small foyer into an obvious
combination den and living room.  "It's furnished!"

"Only with the usual stuff, Gail.  The bedroom closets are empty.
Go ahead.  Look all around."  He plopped down into a recliner.
"I'll wait here."

In a few minutes she was back.  "Pretty nice place, Perry -- I
mean, Mr. Fyffe!"

"Do you like it?"

"What's not to like -- three bedrooms, each with its own bath and
a kitchen with everything?  Lots of families don't have such a
nice place."

"And a laundry room.  I'm glad you noticed the kitchen.  Did you
ever tend bar?"

"I helped out for awhile."

"Good.  You'll find a bottle of Bombay in the freezer, Vermouth
in the fridge and martini glasses in the cupboard over the sink.
Make me one, please."

She blinked but turned silently away.

"And help yourself to whatever looks good," he called after her.

He sat stolidly, listening to the noises from the kitchen.  After
a few minutes she returned, bearing a small serving tray upon
which in solitary splendor sat the inverted cone of a
thin-stemmed martini glass.  She had even found an olive to float
in the pale liquid.  She stood beside the arm of his chair,
holding the tray patiently.

He took up the drink, tasted it sparingly and raised his eyebrows
in grudging approval.  "Not bad.  Did you have something?"

"I'm not thirsty.  Is that it, sir?  Am I to be the maid?"

"No, Gail: the mistress.  And you don't have to 'sir' me."

She took a breath.  "Mistress.  Doesn't that mean, like I was to
Jarvis?"

He grunted.  "I take it you supported _him_."

"He got a check from somewhere every month.  Of course that was
gone in a week."

"Forget Jarvis, Gail.  Your life here will be unlike that one in
every respect."

"_Every_ respect?"

"I promise I'll never rent your sweet body to another man."

She blinked and smiled almost for the first time.  "My _sweet_
body?"

He waved a hand negligently.  "What's a little wear and tear?"
He laid the barely tasted drink on the coffee table and cocked
his head at her critically.  "How well do those duds fit?  Are
they the right size?"

"Not bad.  It depends on what you want the clothes to do.  For
bar-hopping I need something tighter."

"You'll get what you need, but bar-hopping is not my style.  Do
you have anything in your old apartment that you want to keep?"

She shrugged.  "Some grungy clothes.  If you're gonna buy me
more, I say, 'Let 'em rot.'"

He stood up.  "Then let's go buy you a wardrobe."

"Don't you like the martini?"

"Next time use half as much vermouth.  Get your wallet and come
on.  The first thing we'll buy you is a purse."



* * *



They returned to the house on Mebane Street after the malls
closed, needing two trips to transfer her boxes and bags from the
car trunk to the bed in a guest bedroom.  Her eyes sparkled in
the light from the nightstand as she delved into the pile for a
particular garment.  It turned out to be a sheer nightgown.  She
held it before her and turned to face him.  "Let me put this on,
Perry, you wonderful man.  I'll only be a minute."

The room contained one straight chair that he spun to face her.
Taking his seat, he said, "Go ahead."

Her eyebrows rose.  "You mean you want to watch?"

"Sure."

She chuckled wryly.  "That surprises me.  You've been so distant
all day."  But she kicked off her pumps.  Her hands went behind
her to the blouse buttons.  She proceeded as methodically as she 
had in the motel.

When she stood nude before him, she asked, "Want me to take
another shower?"

"Not now."  He glanced at his wristwatch.

She blinked.  "You in a hurry?"

"Sort of.  Are you feeling grateful, Gail?"

"Yes."

He grinned.  "Reminds me of a story.  Did you hear the one about
the young girl who happened to see mamma sucking daddy?"

Gail's lip curled.  "I've heard a lot of stories like that."

"Later she told mamma, 'I saw what you were doing.  Is that how
you get a baby?'

"'No,' said mamma, 'that's how I get a new dress.'"

Gail sighed.  "Yeah, I've heard it."  She crossed the room and
dropped to her knees on the carpet before him.  "Guess I don't
need the nightgown."

He parted his legs.  She slipped between them, hands going to
belt and zipper.  He twitched when her fingers captured him and
again when her mouth closed over him.  After brief tonguework
she lifted her head, bright eyes regarding him speculatively.
"You don't get this very often, do you?"

"I can hardly remember the last time," he admitted.  "It won't
take you long, I think."

She lowered her head and resumed, bracing him between thumb and
forefinger until he was firm.  She continued with long strokes
from glans almost to base.   He stared down at her and shivered.
Soon he gripped the sides of the seat bottom and slid his hips
forward.  She froze momentarily then withdrew to the glans, a
white rivulet flowing over her chin.  He groaned and sagged in
the chair.

She backed away, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, and
would have risen to her feet except that he suddenly leaned
forward, caught her head in his hands and pulled their mouths
together in a passionate kiss.

When he finally released her, she stared at him.  "You wanted to
taste yourself, is that it?"

"Maybe I'm grateful too."

She sniffed and turned away to the adjoining bathroom.  He rose,
closed his britches and followed her to the doorway.  She drew a
glass of water and rinsed her mouth.

He said, "Before I leave we have a thing or two to discuss.  Come
into the kitchen and bring your wallet."

She paused to don a robe and slippers before following him into
the kitchen.

He said, "Try that martini again, will you?  And make one for 
yourself, if you care for them."

"I'm not legal for booze," she muttered, opening the freezer.

He chuckled scornfully as he took a seat, his own wallet in his
hand.  "In this house anything you want is legal, Gail."

She used a tiny measuring spoon on the wine, stirred the mixture
with a glass rod and dropped in an olive before setting it before
him.  "There.  Half the vermouth."  She took a breath, staring at
the money now spread on the table.  "What's that?"

"$500," he answered, "mostly in twenties, mad money for you.  I
have to be gone for a few days.  This is for taxi fare and extra
groceries if you fancy something we don't have.  I hope you have
sense enough not to look up your old crowd and give it to them,
but I'm putting no restrictions on it.  It's a gift to you, free
and clear."  He sighed.  "I hope it helps you decide to be here 
when I return."

She fell into a chair across the table.  Her face was white.

"What's the matter, Gail?"

"You ...  You're going to strand me after one little blowjob?"

He pushed the stack of currency toward her.  "Strand?  I may
leave you alone at times, but you'll hardly be _stranded_.  This
is enough to buy a ticket for anywhere in the country."

Her chest heaved in a deep breath.  "But I thought ... thought
you would spend the night."

"Not tonight, Gail.  I'm sorry to disappoint you.  And thank you.
You're quite an accomplished little, ah --"

"Cocksucker."

"Yes.  I'm impressed with you."

"Thank you," she said dryly.  "How long will it be?"

"Until I come back?  I'm not sure.  Today is Tuesday.  Probably
by Friday, Monday certainly."  He took a hefty draught of the
martini and passed a slip of paper to her.  "That's a number
where I can be reached if you really need me -- but please,
_only_ for a real emergency."

She studied him searchingly.  He bore her scrutiny as he finished
the drink.  He smiled.  "This one is right."

"Why, Perry?  Mr. Fyffe?"  She gestured around her.  "Why are you
doing all this?"

His eyes narrowed.  "Do you think it's a lot, Gail?"

"Of course it's a lot!  It's too much!"

He chuckled.  "And there's more to come, a lot more, if you'll
hold still for it."

Her eyes flashed.  "And stop asking questions?"

He shook his head.  "I don't mind questions.  I'll answer them in
my own time.  But think about this."  He pushed the chair back
and got to his feet.  "If I'm doing a lot for you, maybe I want a
lot in return."

She sniffed and shook her head, gesturing around her again.
"You've bought and paid for me ten times over."

"What if I want more than that?"  His hand opened and dropped one
other thing onto the table: a brass key.  With that he spun on
his heel and marched through the house toward the front door.

The girl sprang up and caught him with his hand on the knob.
"Kiss me good-bye!" she demanded.

He kissed her lingeringly though chastely.  She melted against
him.  "Oh, Perry ..."

Strong hands under her arms straightened her up.  "Until later,"
he told her before passing into the dark night.

* * *

The eastern sky was beginning to brighten when he let himself 
into the house on Saturday morning.  He closed the door quietly 
and proceeded through the den into the kitchen, leaving a 
briefcase under the table.  Up the hall enough light came around 
the blinds to reveal her asleep in the smaller of the three 
bedrooms.  She had kicked off the covers and lay on her back in 
a translucent peignoir, breathing evenly.

He undressed completely and swiftly, draping his clothing over
the dresser chair.  The inevitable bumps and jingle of keys and
coins in his pockets failed to disturb her.  He stood at the end
of the bed for a moment, savoring his anticipation.  Kneeling on 
the bed between her somewhat parted legs, in one motion he spread 
them further while throwing up the peignoir's skirt.  Her 
breathing stopped as his mouth descended around the clitoris.

She gasped for breath then screamed slightly.  Predictably she 
tried to rise, leaving space for his right arm to encircle her 
hips from behind.  His left forearm across her breasts forced her 
back down.  She struggled briefly, writhing against the restraint
under her hips, raising her heels to dig his back.  Then his
tongue made itself felt.

"P-Perry?" she hazarded, beginning to relax.

He stroked her relentlessly.  "Oh, god!" she cried.  Her breast 
heaved.  "If you make ... make me come -- oh, god!  I'll piss on 
you.  I can't help it!"

His answer was to thrust two fingers into her under his chin.

"Please, Perry, let me -- god! -- go to the bathroom.  It'll
embarrass me to death and I'm already dribbling."

With a sigh he released her.  Immediately she swung lithe legs to
the floor and fled to the adjoining room, shrugging out of the
peignoir.

He called after her, "That's not piss," and followed her to the
doorway, retrieving the fallen garment in passing and tossing it 
in a ball across the bed toward the dresser.

She sat on the stool, her discharge rattling in the water.  Her
grin was visible in the dim light.  "You don't think this is
piss?"

"_This_ may be, but what you dribbled wasn't."

"Come here," she commanded, putting out her arms.

Now her hands caught _his_ hips, pulling him close beside her.
Her mouth enclosed the turgid organ.  He endured the bobbing
head until her stream ceased.  His hand on her forehead
gently disconnected them.

He caught the arm that was around his hips.  "Come on back to
bed.  Old men have to be careful on their feet."

Her hand stroked his hairy chest.  "You don't feel so old,
Perry."

"Wait till the light's better.  Have you started your pills?"

"Wednesday morning."

When she had wiped herself, she snuggled against him for the
return to bed.  There he laid her on her back, parted her legs 
and again knelt between them.

"Oh, come up!" she demanded.  "It's pissy down there!"

But he ignored her protest.  He found her already aroused.  A few
seconds' ardent tonguework produced a groan, then a scream.  Her
legs clamped on his ears.  Her hips heaved under him.  After a
moment of screaming and thrashing she forced his head away with 
both hands.

"Now I'll come up," he commented, wiping his face on the
bedsheet.  She accepted him eagerly.  Her groans shortly resumed.

* * *

She awakened the second time to rich smells of coffee and bacon
in the house.   Throwing on robe and slippers, she hurried down
the hall to the kitchen.  Perry, wearing a blanket draped like a
toga, was just laying a platter of golden eggs and sizzling bacon
on the table set for two.

"Perry, I just realized -- you came back!"  She swept around the
table and hugged herself against him.  Chuckling at her obvious
delight, he took her in his arms and kissed her with probing
tongue.

Raising his head, he said with a smile, "I was hoping you'd be
glad to see me."

But she did not release him.  "The sex was like a dream.  I
wasn't thinking until just now.  You came back!"  Tears welled in
her eyes.

"I told you I would."  He took her shoulders and stood her apart
from him.  "My god, let me look at you in this bright light!
Your complexion is clear as a baby's.  And you were right: that
light blue robe sets off the color of your eyes perfectly."  He
added with an uncomfortable smile, "Even when I make them cry."

A tear rolled down one cheek.  "You came back!"

"Did you think I wouldn't?"  His face grew solemn.  "I'll always
come back to you, Gail."

Her eyes widened at that announcement.  He released her and
turned away to pour coffee and fill the two large dinner plates
generously with scrambled eggs, bacon and buttered toast.  He sat
erect in his chair, waiting for her.  She slipped into hers and
unfolded the napkin into her lap while returning his gaze
tenderly.

He took up his coffee cup to sip.  She did too.  When he took
fork in one hand, toast in the other, and combined eggs, bacon
and toast in his mouth, she mimicked him precisely.

He chuckled.  "You're not really a puppet, you know."

She chewed thoughtfully.  "I wouldn't mind it.  I want to learn 
how you want me to live."

His eyes twinkled ironically.  "What a thing to say!  I'm glad
you're no longer a teenager.  They'd take away your union card."

"I _hated_ being a teenager!"

"I'm sorry you had it so tough."  He raised his chin and produced
a smile.  "Tell me what you did this week."

"Not much.  I went to a newsstand and bought some trashy novels.
Then I watched TV and read."  She paused with a hovering forkful
of egg.  "And thought about what you're up to.  I'm glad you
finally gave me a good fuck."

He smiled.  "It _was_ good, wasn't it!"

She stared at him thoughtfully as she chewed.  "You said you have
a problem, Perry.  Is it your heart?"

"Well, Dr. Meyers has diagnosed incipient arteriosclerosis."  He
chuckled.  "A very careful girl could be helpful with that."

"I'll be your careful girl, Perry.  Do you need something
special?"

"Not so special."  He chuckled.  "I understand old men get kinky,
but I'm not there yet, I hope."

"Then ... why _me_?  Why did you pick me, Perry?"  She gestured
around her.  "All this can't be just a lark with a fast-food
girl."

"I had a particular reason for picking you.  And yes, you _can_ 
do some special things for me."

"Such as?"

"Go to school, for one."

"School!"  She stared at him and tossed her head.  "_School_?
What the hell are you talking about?"

"Think of my motive as a puzzle" -- he grinned slyly -- "one that
I'll divulge to you after awhile.  For now please finish your
breakfast."

"Are we in a hurry?"

"Not really.  It's just that I enjoy watching your face when I
please you."

"You have another surprise for me?"

"A humdinger."

She finished her toast after smearing it liberally with jelly.
He watched her with a slight smile, sipping the remains of his
coffee.

She said, "Well, I know part of your motive.  You like to fuck 
me."  She sniffed.  "From the way you stare, I could even 
believe you like to look at me."

"Oh, yes.  I like everything about you except your foul mouth,
but since my cock went into it I can hardly complain.  You're 
a lovely young lady, my dear, eating breakfast before me.  And 
you don't yet know why that should please me so particularly."

"Maybe you'll send me to cocksucking school," she suggested with 
a sneer, springing up to transfer the soiled utensils to the 
sink.

"You've already graduated from that," he retorted.

He produced the briefcase and popped it open.  "Leave that for
now," he commanded, gesturing at the sink, "and sit down beside
me."

When she had complied, he handed her a stapled set of papers.
Quickly she thumbed through it.  "Is this Dr. Meyers' report?"

"Yes."

"Am I sick or well?"

"Extremely well.  Look here."  He pointed from one section to
another.  "Your red and white cell counts are normal.  None of
the proteins that respond to infections or tumors are elevated.
This number means you have no trace of diabetes and this one that
your serum cholesterol is in the safe range.  In other words,
young lady, I am pleased to report that you are healthy as a
horse."

"I suppose that's good news."

"You _suppose_!  I wish I could say as much."

She responded indifferently, "I'm sure you could when you were
20."

He shook his head.  "Well, if this isn't enough to please you, go
look out the window."

"Huh?"

"Go ahead.  Look in the driveway."

She went dutifully as directed and soon returned.  "You've bought
yourself a sports car?"  She grinned at him indulgently.  "A
lemon yellow sports car?"

"Not me, Gail."  He took another paper out of the briefcase and
passed it to her.  It proved to be a vehicle title certificate,
designating a Porsche of a certain motor number, owned by one
Gail Enid Larson.

"What does this mean?" she asked, eyes wide.

"That you have a new car."  He took out more papers and laid them
on the table.  "Here's the insurance policy.  You need to sign
both it and the title, over my signature, where I signed as your
agent.  The registration and owner's manual are in the car."

She sagged into her chair, mouth hanging open.  He watched her
with glowing eyes.

"Perry," she muttered.  "What ...  It's really mine?"

"Yours, from the road up."  He brought out the small plastic key
holder and lock remote and placed it atop the forms.  "All yours.
When we get dressed, you'll have to run me back to the dealer to 
get my Cadillac."

"My god!" she said softly, still staring at him.

He grinned.  "I'll accept that instead of 'Thank you.'"

Her face changed.  A red spot appeared on each cheek.  She surged
to her feet and leaned forward, bracing herself with hands on the
table edge.  "That does it, Perry -- I mean, Mr. Fyffe!  I'd do
anything for a man who acted like I was more than a piece of
trash, but _nobody_ treats a whore this good!  If you don't tell
me what's going on here, I'm gonna take off this robe you gave me
and walk right out that front door."

His grin faltered slightly.  "Don't do that.  It's cold out
there."

"You don't believe I'll do it?  Jarvis didn't either."  Her hands
went to the robe buttons.

He laughed sheepishly.  "Hold on, Gail!"  She had opened the
front of the robe, exposing her breasts.  He got to his feet,
drew her to him and bent to a nipple.  She endured his mouth only
a moment before pulling away with a plop.  He looked up into an
angry stare.

Straightening himself, he sighed.  "There's a key fact you don't
know yet."

"What?" she demanded belligerently.

He took a deep breath.  "Despite the way it looks, I really want
you as a daughter more than a whore."

"_What_?"  Her eyes narrowed derisively but the marks of anger
faded.  "That's crazy!  Don't you have a daughter?"

"No.  I have a son somewhere, whom I've ruined, but no other
children."

Her mouth twisted.  "Don't tell me you're trying to make up for
it!"

He sighed again.  "It has a flavor of compensation, but not for
that."

"What are you talking about?"

He sighed heavily.  "Get me a coke to wet my whistle, honey, and
I'll tell you a story."

When they were both seated, she leaned forward tensely with her
hands clasped atop the table.  He took a swallow of the cold
drink and sighed.

"It started in Vietnam.  I was 27 in '68, a lieutenant in the
army reserve called up as a platoon leader despite being too old
for the job.  My platoon sergeant was treated the same.  We were
in combat together during the Tet Offensive.  He and I became
very close.  He saved my life many times, in more ways than one,
and I saved his.  One night after a terrible firefight that did
in half the company and most of the platoon, we had a long talk
over a beer or two in the hooch.  That firefight brought home to
us both how unlikely we were to get home intact.

"By then we were closer than brothers.  We made a promise to each
other.  In the case that only one survived, he would assume
responsibility for the other's family.  I had a wife and a son,
while he had a wife and daughter.  We were both honorable men and
meant to keep our promise.

"On our last mission a week later, just days before we were
supposed to rotate home, a cliche, he stepped on a Chinese mine
that killed him instantly."  Perry sighed.  "At least he didn't
suffer."

"This man ..." she began hesitantly.

He ignored her.  "When I returned to the states, I found my own
affairs in a mess.  My wife had taken up with another man.  She
told me she'd expected me to get killed.  But she came back to
me, she said, for the sake of the boy, and we made a life of it.
That's neither here nor there.  I had been back about three
months before I looked around for the sergeant's wife.  I found
her.  She had already remarried."  He grinned sourly.  "Some
women do need men.  _Any_ men!  But the wife was clearly provided
for and the daughter was healthy, so I went on my way."

He took another swallow of coke.  "At my age the obituary columns
have become interesting.  Two months ago I read of the daughter's
death in a car accident.  She had a surviving daughter of her
own, no address given.  The husband, who also survived, wouldn't
talk to me.  All I had was a name.  So I hired detectives."

He took two photographs from the briefcase and laid them before
her.  One showed a much younger Perry, bars on his collar,
grinning at the camera with his arm over the shoulders of another
man of high sergeant rank.  The second was a close-up of the
second man, smiling, with a dark moustache and a military
haircut.

Gail took a deep breath.  "Is this my grandfather?"

"Yes, it is.  You are his only surviving descendant.  Go take a
look at that picture and yourself in the mirror."

"I can see the resemblance."  Her eyes rose.  "I never knew him."

"Of course not.  But didn't your mother have pictures?"

"No.  My grandma must have, but she and Mom never spoke again
after Mom left home."

He shook his head.  "Which is probably another sad story.  Ah,
the pain families cause themselves!"

Her eyes were interested.  "So it was no coincidence, you showing
up in that fast-food joint."

"No.  And my problem for Dr. Meyers was only to evaluate your
health."

"Suppose I'd had AIDS?"

He shrugged.  "Then we'd have done our best to cure it."

She sniffed.  "And I'd've had to suck you through a rubber."

"You expect me to apologize?"  He chuckled grimly.  "I don't
believe you were faking this morning, though if you were I don't
care.  This may not be what your grandfather expected, but you're
a sexy little tart.  Why shouldn't I partake?"

She sniffed.  "Apologize?  Not to me.  I was _glad_ you wanted to 
fuck!  It made some sense for a change.  And I didn't fake.  I 
never fake when I'm fucking."

He shrugged.  "The trouble is, fucking is just about all you
know.  When I get through with you, you'll have a skill that can
support you."

She drew a quick breath.  "It's a deal!"

He grinned and shook his head.  "Gail, when I get through with
you, you'll also know not to agree so fast."

"You think I should bargain?  After the abortion my stepfather
offered me something very similar."

"Why didn't you accept?"

"What did I know?"  She shrugged.  "I had a lot to learn and
life's been teaching me ever since."

He stood up.  "That's the story.  Now get dressed in something
conservative and let's go meet my wife."

"She knows all about me?"

"Almost."

The girl sniffed.  "And believes I fuck you every time we meet?"

"If so she won't mention it."

"Huh!  Not while you're listening, maybe."  She leaned back in
her chair.  "So!  I'm to be your fucking daughter, am I?"

"I wouldn't put it just that way."

"But that's the way it's gonna be, right?"  She slipped her hand
into his blanket and gripped what she found.

"I'm an old man, sweetie.  You won't often be pestered that way."

"Want me to quit this?"

"Are you kidding?"

"As you say, I do know about sex.  Maybe I can even teach _you_ a
thing or two!"  She chuckled thoughtfully.  "You're an old man
who keeps his promises -- sort of and some when -- but who keeps
them.  I'm gonna like being your fucking daughter, Perry."  She 
released him.  "Let's get ready for your wife.  I think I know 
how to handle her too."


END
kellis@dhp.com
Stories gratis at http://users.dhp.com/files/Authors/kellis/www

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