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Message-ID: <41859asstr$1050307808@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Vulgar Argot" <VulgarArgotREMOVEALL@CAPSinsidejoke.tv>
Subject: {ASSM} Marigold, Part 11
Date: Mon, 14 Apr 2003 04:10:08 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Marigold, Part 11
by Vulgar Argot
(rom, MF)

"What are you doing here?" Thule asked, sounding weary and resigned.

"You don't answer your e-mail," Maya replied, "You don't log on to instant
messenger or, if you do, you do so in stealth mode. I wanted to talk to
you."

"I have a phone," Thule pointed out.

"Would I have had any better luck?" Maya asked.

By way of answer, Thule said, "I've been busy."

"With Mari-go-old?" Maya said the name like a taunt.

"With Ivan Vandevoort, if you must know," said Thule.

"Are you going to invite me in?" asked Maya, "or maybe you'd like to hold me
here at gunpoint while we chat."

"I'm through with you," said Thule, his voice gravelly, "You crossed the
line this time."

"I cross a lot of lines," said Maya, "For instance, I got a ride from the
bus station and had them drop me off here, so you're stuck with me until
morning."

"Wait here," Thule said, turning his back on her and walking to his room.
She followed him, then sat down on the bed, Indian-style. She was dressed in
black jeans and a black turtleneck. Thule ignored her, taking the clip out
of the pistol and putting the pistol in the top drawer of his dresser. Then,
he started to get dressed.

Maya pouted and stretched, "What are you getting dressed for? You're just
going to have to get all undressed again."

Thule zipped up his pants, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Thule," Maya said, her face getting all soft, her chin quivering a little,
"I want you back."

Thule laughed unkindly and pulled on a t-shirt, "After four years? Why now?
And what makes you think I want you back?"

"I felt the way you fucked me in New York," said Maya, "you couldn't wait to
come inside of me. You didn't last five minutes once you woke up."

Thule scowled, "I wasn't worked up. I just wanted it to be over. Get up."

"Ooh," said Maya, "I like being ordered around. Where would you like me to
stand...master?" The last word was mockery, a challenge.

"I want you to walk," said Thule "out to the car. I'm driving you back to
the bus station."

Maya's eyes widened in mock fear and surprise, "The bus station at two AM.
Ooh, good plan, my brave, little soldier. There are no buses until
six-oh-five. That'll give the hoboes a good four hours to get their hands on
me before I go home."

"Fine," said Thule, "I'll drive you all the way back to New York, then."

Maya, who had started to rise, sat back down again, "I won't go."

Thule growled, "You will go."

"Gonna make me?" asked Maya.

Thule sat down at his desk, pointed his webcam at the bed, and set it to
record. Then, he said, "If I have to."

Maya lay down flat on her back, stretching her arms over her head, "What are
you going to do? Drag me by my hair. You know, when you didn't stop Randy
Vandevoor from raping me, I almost got away, but he caught me by that long
hair that you loved so much and dragged me back into his room."

"You're a fucking psycho," opined Thule, "This is your last warning, Maya.
Get up and get out or I will carry you out of here by force."

Maya reached down and stripped off her t-shirt. She was reaching around to
undo her bra when Thule shouted, "What the fuck are you doing?"

"I honestly believe," Maya said, a tear rolling down her cheek, "that you
would do it. You would pick me up off this bed and jam me into that piece of
shit car of yours. So, I thought it might make for a better show if I
stripped naked and screamed 'rape' all the way across the yard."

Thule's laughter was downright cruel, "Come on, Maya. You never cried
'rape.' Four years and you haven't said a goddamned word about it to anybody
that mattered, not the cops, not your parents. Besides, you haven't been
raped. There are no bruises on your body. You're not full of come."

"How do you know?" Maya asked, unzipping her pants, "Maybe I fucked the guy
who gave me a ride over. Maybe, I called Randy Vandevoort and told him how
much I missed having him ram his big cock up my virginal ass without even
spit for lube. He's bigger than you, you know--a lot bigger."

"So," asked Thule, "how do you talk to guys you're not trying to get back?"

"About the same," said Maya, laughing and lying back to pull her pants off.

"Stop taking your clothes off," said Thule, "In five minutes, you are
leaving this house, clothed or unclothed, willing or unwilling. If you
scream 'rape,' the police will come and take me away. I will spend the night
in jail. When it turns out you haven't been raped recently, they will let me
out and put you in jail, probably for a long time. Even if they don't,
they'll eventually figure out that you're completely around the bend and
lock you away for good in a rubber room."

"All I need is one night," said Maya, "one night with you or one night
without you. Either will serve."

"What the fuck are you babbling about?" asked Thule.

"78," Maya sang, "17-45-26-91."

Thule recognized the combination to his safe immediately, "Maya, what the
hell are you up to?"

Maya lay back on the pillows, completely naked now and spread her legs,
exposing the curly black hair between her cafe-au-lait thighs, "Better not
to find out, lover. Now, come to bed."

Thule looked at Maya, lying there and undulating, one hand caressing herself
between her legs, the other pinching her own nipple. She was already
starting to get off on the combination of pleasure and pain.

"One night?" asked Thule.

"One night," said Maya, "then you can go back to Goldilocks if you like."

Thule crouched in his closet, unzipping the duffelbag on the floor. Maya
looked up a little, "What are you doing?"

Thule answered, "Just looking for something in my bag of toys, dear."

"I'm not going to let you tie me up," said Maya, "If you try, I'll scream."

"What?" asked Thule, pulling out and brandishing the waterproof rope, "I
thought you liked being tied up."

"I like being tied up," acknowledged Maya, "I do not like being tied up and
left until morning."

Thule cursed under his breath, then said out loud, "Have it your way. Hey,
do you remember the orgasm mitt?"

Maya sat up, "No. What orgasm mitt?"

Thule held up one hand with an oven mitt on it, "Wasn't it you I used the
orgasm mitt on? It was one of my girlfriends."

Maya examined it from a distance, "What makes it an orgasm mitt? It looks
like an ordinary oven mitt."

Thule came over to the bed, "Lie back," he said. Maya did.

He layed the mitt on her stomach, stroking little circles out from her
navel. Almost immediately, Maya began to writhe in pleasure. "Touch
yourself," he ordered. Maya did. Thule rubbed his way up Maya's ribs and
into her cleavage with the glove. Maya started to moan tremulously. Thule
stroked one breast, then the other with it. Maya gasped with the pleasure.

Thule lay down on the bed next to her, still stroking one breast, then the
other. He got his face right down next to her ear and demanded, "Come for
me."

Maya started to moan. Thule let her moan three times, then put the mitt over
her face, just in time for her to inhale deeply. He could see by her face
that she recognized the smell of chloroform a split second too late. She
tried to struggle, but Thule pushed the mitt into her face. In a few
seconds, she lay still, the rise and fall of her breast the only motion.

Thule moved quickly, putting Maya's clothes back on her, picking her up,
cradled in his arms, and carrying her out to the car. Compared to him, she
was so tiny that it looked like he was carrying a sleeping child. He put her
in the passenger seat, buckling her seatbelt. Running back into the house,
he retrieved a few items. When he came back, Maya was still out cold.

This late at night, it was about forty-five minutes to the city from Thule's
house. He was five minutes from the Holland Tunnel when Maya started to
stir. She looked up at him, bleary eyed. It seemed to take a couple of
minutes for recognition to kick in, "Oh, Thule," she said, "I'm so sorry."
Then, she started crying, big, wet tears that splashed when they landed.

"It's okay," said Thule, "It's going to be okay."

"What happened?" Maya asked.

"I chloroformed you," said Thule matter-of-factly, "And now I'm taking you
home." He handed her a bottle of water, "Drink this. You must be thirsty."

Maya took the bottle, nodding and drank deeply.

"Now," asked Thule, "are you going to behave yourself or do I need to drug
you again?"

"I'll behave," said Maya. Her voice was raspy and the fight seemed to have
gone out of her.

"Maya, you need to get help."

"I know, Thule. I know."

Thule drove through the toll booth, watching Maya like a hawk while he paid,
but she seemed wrapped up in her own world now, staring ahead, glassy-eyed.

"Where do you live now?" Thule asked.

"Just drop me off at Port Authority," said Maya, sounding miserable. They
drove in silence halfway through the tunnel. Then, she said, "I saw him
today."

"Who?" asked Thule.

"My little boy," said Maya, "I found out where he was and I went to go see
him. I didn't approach. Nobody knew I was there. They've got him."

"Maya," snapped Thule, trying to break her out of her trance, "fewer
pronouns. Who has him?"

"The Vandevoorts," said Maya, dully, "Ivan Vandervoort's cousin adopted my
little boy."

Thule's face was ashen, "Maya, I'm so sorry."

Maya looked out her window as the tunnel opened up into the city, "I guess I
went a little nuts after that. I'm so sorry, Thule."

"Maya," Thule said, his voice filled with hard compassion, "I can't see you
anymore. You need to get help."

Maya nodded, "I know and I know. Believe me, Thule. I'm as disgusted by my
behavior tonight as you are."

"I'm not disgusted," said Thule, "only incredibly concerned. Please tell me
you'll get help."

She smiled sadly, "When I can afford it."

Thule looked around, "Are you sure I can't take you home?"

"Twenty-third and eighth," Maya said, "I'm staying with a friend for the
time being."

Thule drove her downtown in silence. When they got to the corner, Maya
asked, "Can I e-mail you, if I promise not to get all crazy?"

Against his better judgement, Thule said, "You understand that I can't
always write back right away." He wanted to be free of her, but he didn't
want her to just disappear, unmissed and unmourned. To some degree, however
small, she was still his problem.

Maya nodded, "Thank you, Thule. You're a real gentleman."

"That's me," said Thule, "Sir Bartholemew of Chloroform." Then, he got out
of the car, came around Maya's side, opened her door, and gave her a
balancing hand out. As she rose up out of the car, Maya fell against Thule
into a hug. He held her there, his arms around her.

Maya tilted her head back, "Rape, rape," she said in a stage whisper, much
too low for anyone but Thule to hear.

Thule released her, "You really are fucking nuts, you know that."

"And you're better than she deserves," said Maya, "Good night, Thule. Thank
you for the ride."

After that, Thule drove uptown for a while, eventually pulling into a
parking space to use his cell phone to find a twenty-four hour office supply
store that would sell him a new safe.

                             -=-

After transferring the contents of the old safe to the new safe, Thule fell
into a deep slumber. It took a good half hour of loud music emanating from
one of his computers to rouse him. He grumbled mightily, but since he was
already dressed and had done so earlier that morning, decided it wasn't the
end of the world. He gave himself a quick washcloth bath, changed his shirt,
and headed out.

Dawn bounced into the car and rubbed the top of Thule's head, "Good
morning," she said briskly.

"You're chipper today," said Thule.

"I was up half the night, talking to my girlfriend," said Dawn in a
singsong.

"She's your girlfriend, now, is she?" asked Thule.

"She said she wants to be," said Donna, "We have a date for this weekend."

"So," asked Thule, in his best "dishy" voice, "Where are you going?"

"Um, nowhere," said Donna, mocking him, "that's sort of what being in the
closet means."

"So," said Thule, as if he'd made a great discovery, "by 'date,' you mean,
'sweaty, lesbian sexfest.'" Dawn flushed bright red and didn't answer,
"Sounds like a pay-per-view event."

"This is a private show," said Dawn, "Nobody gets to view, no matter how
much they pay."

"What if I just ask real nice?" asked Thule.

"No," said Dawn, "besides, why would you want to watch a couple of hideous
girls have sex?"

"Oh," said Thule, "you didn't tell me she was hideous, too. I thought I
could just block my vision of you and watch her. But, I guess if she's a
lesbian too, she's probably got a hairy back and wears flannel everywhere."

"No," said Dawn, getting a faraway look in her eyes, "actually, she's
beautiful. And you're a cretin."

"Hmmmm," said Thule, "do we have any beautiful cheerleaders at Mannsborough?
Some of them are pretty homely...well, some of them rise to homely. Most are
pretty hideous."

"This is why women get eating disorders," lectured Dawn, "unrealistic
standards of beauty."

Thule's stomach grumbled audibly. "Sorry," he said, "I skipped breakfast."

"Long night?" asked Dawn.

"Off the record," said Thule, "one of the longest in my life."

"Want to share?" asked Dawn.

"No," said Thule emphatically, then softer, "but thank you."

"Want a banana?"

"What?"

"I've got a banana in my lunch," said Dawn, "you can have it if you like."

"Thanks," said Thule, "that would help a lot. I'll get you another one
before lunch."

"You don't have to," said Dawn, handing it over, "I only ask one favor in
return."

Thule split the top of the peel with his thumbnail, "Name it."

Dawn's grin was broad and evil, "I want to watch you eat it."

Thule chomped off the top of the banana, chewed it up, and swallowed it,
"Get pay-per-view."

Donna stuck out her tongue, "Spoilsport."

At Marigold's house, Thule bounded up the path and rang the doorbell.
Marigold came to the door and followed him up the path. Impulsively, halfway
to the car, he turns, wrapped his arms around her waist, and kissed her full
on the mouth.

"I love you, Marigold Tarr," he said quietly, "and I take back what I said
about you being as crazy as Maya."

Marigold looked puzzled, "When did you ever say that?"

"Well," said Thule, "I may never have said it out loud."

Donna honked the horn at them. Thule bounded up the path.

"Wait," called out Marigold, standing where he had left her, "does this mean
that I get to use that word?"

Thule stood with both feet on the frame of the car, "Yes," he said, "but
only in moderation. If you abuse it, the priviledge will be revoked."

Marigold got in the car. Dawn asked, "What word?"

"Periapatetic," said Thule.

Marigold wrapped her arms around Thule's neck and kissed his cheek, "Thule
just told me he loved me."

"Well, duh," said Dawn, "I've known that since the first day I saw you two
together."

Thule and Marigold turned to each other and burst out laughing. Dawn looked
at them, puzzled. Thule spoke first, "In that case, you knew before we did."

                                 -=-

"You're in a good mood this morning," observed Oxana.

Thule shut his locker, slapping his lock on and spinning the wheel. He was,
he realized, deliriously happy--sleep-deprived, but happy. As bad as the
scene with Maya had been, the break with her had been like dropping a
lodestone from around his neck. It had also made him realize that he really
did love Marigold, no matter how their relationship had started. He smiled,
"What gave it away?"

"That odd curvature around the edges of your mouth," said Oxana, "It looks
like you're smiling, but lacks the general malice you radiate when you do
smile. I've only seen you smile like that once before." She looked around
conspiratorially, "Did you get into MIT again?"

"No," said Thule, "althought I do believe I'll be able to pay--for the first
year, anyway."

Oxana bounced up and down, wrapping Thule in a congratulatory hug, "You sold
your software? Congratulations."

"Actually," said Thule, hugging her back, "it was more of a finder's fee
sort of deal."

Rocking back on her heels, Oxana said, "Well, whatever you did,
congratulations. That's got to be a huge weight off of your mind."

"It is," said Thule.

After she had walked away, Randy Vandevoort, who had been lurking off to one
corner of the hall, chatting up a freshman girl, strutted over to Thule,
"So," he said, by way of introduction, "my old man says that you're Jonas
Tarr's new favorite."

Thule shrugged, "I suppose I am."

"Word to the wise," said Randy, "be a little more disreet when dipping your
beak. Girls like Tarr, they can be a real pain if they see something like
that."

Thule took out his pack of cigarettes and packed them against the back of
his hand in short violent motions while he thought about his answer.
Finally, he said, "Thanks for the heads up, but I got it covered. She won't
care about that one."

Randy seemed to consider the statement, then said, "You know, my old man
keeps telling me I should marry Tarr, but she always seemed like a bit of a
cold fish."

Thule chuckled ruefully, "Plenty of fish, if that's what you want." He
worried that the allusion was too subtle for Randy, but apparently, its
crudeness got the point across.

"Yeah," said Randy, slapping Thule broadly on the shoulder, laughing
harshly, "You're all right, Roemer."

Once Randy was gone, Thule breathed a heavy sigh of relief. He'd received
Randy's blessing. He was in. Now, all of the rules had changed.

                         -=-

Several other times during the course of the day, Randy made some gesture of
approval towards Thule--a wave, a nod of the head, a smile. Thule wondered
how many of these subtle signals he'd missed over the years. He doubted that
anything had been said, but by the end of the day, people who hadn't spoken
to him since he quit the track team were coming up, patting him on the back,
acting like there hadn't been a three and a half year interruption in the
conversation. Thule, for his own part, behaved like he was glad and at least
a little bit grateful to be back. Mostly, though, he acted like he deserved
it and, soon, so did everyone else.

After his last class, Dawn met him coming out the side door on his way to
the car, "Boy," she said, "your star sure seems to be rising today."

"Rising or falling is a matter of perspective, dependent on your sorting
order," said Thule. He kept walking towards his car, Dawn following along
beside him, almost two strides to every one of his.

"So," Dawn said, not able to keep the hurt entirely out of her voice, "I
guess you'll be eating lunch with the jocks tomorrow."

Thule kept walking, "Dear lord, no. Not if I can help it."

"Really?" asked Dawn, "why not?"

"I don't have any friends there," said Thule.

"You sure seem awfully friendly," said Dawn.

Thule reached into his pocket for his keys. He decided that a small lie was
in order, "It's easier to be friendly with them. If they're not being
antagonistic, why should I?" He unlocked his door and got in the car. Then,
he reached around to unlock the back seat. Dawn got in. Thule waved to
Marigold as she appeared over the rise.

"They're not good people, Thule," said Dawn, "you haven't spent a lot of
time with them, so you don't know. But, the friendliness only lasts as long
as it takes them to get their hooks into you. Then, they're mean."

Thule turned to face her, "That is a remarkably astute observation. I thank
you for your warning, Dawn. But tell me, if you think they're so evil, why
are you planning a secret rendez-vous with one of Brianne's handmaidens?"

Marigold opened the door just in time to hear Dawn say, "She's different."

"Who's different?" asked Marigold.

"Dawn's girlfriend," said Thule, "is different from the other cheerleaders."

"Well, at least in one critical area, yes," said Marigold.

"Why do I get the feeling that you two are making fun of me?" asked Dawn.

"It's just funny," said Marigold, "Whenever I hear girls talk about guys,
their number one frustration is that guys only want the 'cheerleader type.'
I meet one lesbian..."

"I don't think I'm a lesbian," said Dawn in a rush.

"Then, it must be an odd-numbered day," offered Thule.

"Now, I know you're making fun of me," said Dawn, "but, I'm serious. I just
think that I didn't like the boys it was okay to date. What do you think,
Thule?"

"I think," said Thule slowly, "that hideous girls should get it wherever
they can--boys, girls, farm animals, Frenchmen, whatever."

"Thule, I'm serious," said Dawn indignantly.

Thule drove for a minute without speaking before saying evenly, "I think
that the acceptable boys in this school are some of the most dangerous
predators you can't get a license to hunt, which is in and of itself a
pity."

"Wow," said Dawn, "extra points for darkness and menace."

Thule smiled, "After sunset, I can do it with a flashlight under my chin and
it's really creepy."

When Dawn got out of the car, she leaned far enough into Thule's window to
rub his head again, "Thanks for the ride," she called while backing away,
"and the advice."

Thule turned to Marigold, while pulling away, "I gave advice?"

Marigold laughed, "She's got a crush on you, you know?"

"Me?" asked Thule, surprised, "What about you?"

Marigold blinked prettily, "Well, that goes without saying. I'm
irresistable."

Thule laughed, "Once I get you home, we'll see who can resist who."

"Are you sure?" asked Marigold, "You look tired. Weren't you able to sleep
last night?"

"I slept fine," said Thule, "until Maya showed up around two AM."

Marigold spun to face him, "Maya? What happened?"

"She was completely around the bend," said Thule, "I had to chloroform her
and drive her back to New York."

"What did she want?"

"She was deranged," said Thule, "she'd seen her baby for the first time
since she gave him up for adoption. Somehow, the Vandeveers must have found
out about him because he's been adopted by one of Ivan's cousins up in
Syosset."

"So, what did she want?" asked Marigold again.

Thule shrugged heavily, "She said she wanted me back. But, she said a lot of
things, really crazy things. It was a very bad scene."

"Still," said Marigold, "I would have liked to have seen it."

Thule didn't speak for a while. Finally, he said, "Actually, when I realized
how crazy she was acting, I turned on the PC camera. I wanted an official
record of what happened. I got most of the conversation."

"Can I see it?"

Thule shook his head, "You really don't want to see it. It's not pretty."

"I really want to see it," said Marigold, "please."

Thule's voice was leaden, "You don't trust me on this?"

"I have my reasons," said Marigold.

So they sat on the bed, Thule's arms wrapped protectively around Marigold,
and watched the recording of the scene with Maya. Thule winced several times
at his own words and actions. When they reached the part where Thule carried
Maya out to the car, he realized that Marigold was resting her head on his
arm, crying. He kissed the top of her head and didn't speak.

"Thule," she said, "I feel so bad for her."

Thule nodded, "So do I. I wanted to cut her off completely, but I told her
she could still e-mail me. I'm sorry I couldn't make a cleaner break."

Maya pulled out of Thule's arms and stood up to pace, "Thule, I did this to
her."

"Marigold," said Thule sharply, "You have a right to feel bad and to want to
help her, but you didn't do this to her. You didn't rape her. You didn't
steal her child. You didn't force her to give birth to a child and give it
away. What you did was awful enough that I spent three years planning
revenge on you, but it was nothing compared to what Randy and Brianne and
Ivan and her own family did to her."

Marigold ran back to the protection of Thule's arms, "Thule, I need to help
her, however I can. Thule, how can I help her?"

Thule stroked her hair, thinking, "You've already apologized and let her
have some modicum of revenge," he said out loud, "I wouldn't recommend
handing her a check. That smacks too much of what the Vandevoorts do. She
did say that she would get professional help if she could afford it. Maybe,
we could even get her to commit herself for a while. After last night, I'm
sure it would help."

"I need to talk to Jonas," Marigold said, "I don't know what we can afford
to do, but I want to do what I can."

Thule turned Marigold in his arms so that she could face him, "Little
flower, do you know who your stepfather is, what he does?"

"He doesn't talk much about work at home," said Marigold, "He says home is a
refuge from work. But, I know that he does a lot of charitable fundraising.
That's why they put his name on hospitals and libraries and such."

Thule started laughing. Once he started, he found he couldn't stop. He lay
on his back and laughed until his sides hurt and tears were rolling down his
cheeks. Finally, gasping for air, he sat back up again. Marigold watched him
the whole time, confused.

Finally, Thule says, "Little flower, you are a remarkable creature."

Marigold smiled, "I'm really not, but I thank you for saying so."

Thule began to explain Jonas and Tarr's holdings to Maya. As he did, her
eyes got bigger and wider. When Thule wrapped it up with, "Jonas's holdings
in Tarr are worth about a quarter of a billion dollars," Marigold said, "You
must have misheard. Are you sure it was 'billion' with a 'b?'"

Thule nodded, "I'm sure."

Marigold got up and started pacing again, "That's can't be right. We have
two cars and a nice house, but there are at least a dozen houses nicer than
ours in town."

Thule held up his hands, "Marigold, it's true. It's all a matter of public
record." He walked over to the computer, closed the still-running picture of
his now-empty room after he had carried Maya out of it, opened a browser and
did some quick typing. Within a few seconds, he had a page up that showed
how much the stock of all of the officers in Tarr was worth. After Marigold
had accepted it as accurate, Thule did a web search and showed Marigold a
half dozen articles lauding Jonas as a savvy business man.

"Don't you know how to use the Internet?" Thule asked Marigold.

"Yeah," said Marigold, "for e-mail and research and stuff."

"Didn't you ever use it to look up Jonas?" asked Thule, "He's got twenty
four hundred matches on Google."

"No," said Marigold, "that would be invasive. He didn't talk about work, so
I didn't pry. I mean, he showed me articles about himself, but they were
always about how he'd raised money to help people."

"Unbelieveable," said Thule, shaking his head, "You're not just pulling my
leg?"

"No," said Marigold quietly, "Thule, are you mad at me?"

Thule looked puzzled, "For what?"

"I don't know," said Marigold, "I just feel really stupid right now."

"Oh, Little Flower," said Thule, gathering Marigold in his arms and kissing
the top of her head, "No no no. I'm so sorry. I just forget that other
people aren't as...thorough and paranoid as I am." He kissed her head again.
Marigold looked up and Thule kissed a single tear off of each of her cheeks.

Marigold held Thule around the chest, her arms locked around him like a
chain. She rubbed her head against his chest, "Thule," she said darkly, "I
don't deserve you."

Thule lifted Marigold's head by the chin so that they were staring into each
others' eyes, "I know," He kept pushing gently on her chin, guiding her
entire body until she lay on her back, "but, until you can find somebody as
good as you deserve, you're stuck with me."

Marigold tried to sit up, "No..." But, Thule placed a firm hand on her
breastbone, keeping her lying down.

"Shhhhh," he sussurated, "no speaking."

Marigold nodded, "Yes, Thule."

With one hand, Thule began unbuttoning Marigold's blouse, slowly and gently,
"I have been aching for you today. A hundred times, I thought about where I
could drag you or where I could make you follow me." He undid the last
button, his hand moving over her smooth, flat belly. Marigold sighed and
rose a little to meet him.

Thule brought his lips down to follow where his hand had touched. Marigold
moaned a little at the touch of his lips, her knees pressing gently into his
ribs.

"Little Flower," Thule said, his hand stroking from her knee to the inside
of her thigh, "everything around me is suspicion and subterfuge. Thank you
for reminding me that that's not what life is."

Marigold raised her hips. Thule hooked his finger into the crotch of her
panties, pulling them down to her knees, then pushing her legs straight up
so that he could get them off of her. After pulling them clear of her feet,
he unbuckled her shoes and slid off her little, white socks. He kissed the
back of her heel, then worked his way down the back of her calf, paused at
the back of her knee, planting kisses the whole way. Marigold moaned out
loud. Realizing that he'd found a new erogenous zone, Thule focused, first
on the back of one knee, then on the back of the other. His libido was
driving him forward; his whole body felt like it was being twanged like a
guitar string. But, self discipline had made his whole life possible. He
lingered, kissing every inch of her inner thighs on his way up.

Marigold reached over to unzip her skirt. Thule took her wrists, forcing her
to sit up, drawing her into his lap. Placing her hands on his top button, he
sat and watched her unbutton his shirt, kissing the soft down of his chest
and belly after each button came loose. He could feel his self-control
wavering.

Marigold didn't stop with Thule's shirt. She unbuttoned and unzipped his
fly, sliding off of his lap long enough to shuck his pants and boxers off.
Marigold smiled at the sight of Thule's cock, rock hard and trembling with
anticipation.

Now, Thule's hands expertly unhooked Marigold's skirt and bra, stripping her
as naked as he was. His mouth went to her breast, kissing and licking at the
nipple, then sucking gently. He couldn't remember ever being so aroused. He
never wanted the moment to end.

For a long time, they lay there, their legs moving sinuously around each
other, their hands exploring each other's bodies. Thule could feel Marigold
shuddering gently, her body humming on the edge of orgasm for a long, long
time. He reveled in keeping her there, knowing that he was quivering on the
verge of ravishing her the whole time.

When he finally did take her, they had lain together, Thule's body covering
Marigold, his weight on his elbows, the rough, wiry hair on his chest gently
scouring her belly and nipples. Later, he would never know if he came down
to join her or she rose up to impale herself. Even once he was inside of
Marigold, Thule did not move faster for a long time, their bodies moving so
closely that he hardly moved against her at all. Finally, gradually, he
increased the pace. Marigold tried to match him, but he caught one arm
behind each of her knees, pushing her legs back until her knees were close
to her ears. Marigold gave a little squeal of protest at losing her
leverage, but it was lost in the sounds of her pleasure.

"Oh, God," Marigold cried out, "Oh, Thule." Thule kissed her on the mouth,
silencing her as her whole body shook violently against him. Holding
Marigold's bottom lip gently in his teeth, chuckling wickedly, Thule drove
his hips into her now. When he finally released her lip, Marigold moaned and
writhed.

Thule held on for as long as he could, not wanting to stop, even though
Marigold occasionally tried to time her counterthrusts to drive him over the
edge. By the time he finally came, both of them were covered in a thin sheen
of sweat and every muscle ached deliciously.

They lay together, Thule tracing abstract patterns across Marigold's back
with a fingertip, still bringing little frissons of pleasure to Marigold
when he pressed a little harder. With his other hand, he peeled back the
strands of hair stuck to her cheek, then kissed her mouth.

"I love you, Marigold," Thule said, simply and ernestly.

"I love you too, Thule," said Marigold, "I love you so much."

Later, after they had washed each other off in the shower, Marigold sat
astride Thule's hips as he lay face-down, dozing, her hands working tension
out of every muscle in his back. Suddenly, her legs stiffened and she lifted
off of him a little.

"Thule," she said with alarm, "a car just pulled into the driveway."

Thule lifted himself up, looking out into the darkness at the shape of the
two cars.

He turned and kissed Marigold quickly on the cheek, "That's my father. I'll
go meet him. You stay here and put some clothes on." Even as he spoke, he
was pulling on boxers, pants, and a t-shirt, "Come out into the living room
once you're decent." He bounced out of the room, still pulling up his pants.

                                    -=-

Thule met his father at the front door, taking the suitcases out of his
hands.

"You cut your hair," said his father.

"Yup," said Thule, "it was getting too damned inconvenient, plus I'm doing
some office work now, so I wanted to look more professional."

His father undid his tie and flopped on the couch while Thule lugged his
suitcases back into his room. When he came back, he handed his father a beer
from the refrigerator.

"Everything go all right here while I was gone?" asked the father.

"About the same," said Thule, opening himself a Coke and sitting on the
smaller couch, "How long are you home this time?"

"Less than twenty-four fucking hours," answered his father, "I got pulled
off of the project in Tokyo so I can lead a team in Ghana of all fucking
places."

"Team leadership?" asked Thule, "That's a step up."

"Yeah," said the father, "and a raise. But, it's in fucking Ghana. Still,
it'll make it a little bit easier to pay for MIT." Suddenly, he turned, "Is
there someone in your room?"

Thule took a sip, "Do you disapprove?"

His father raised an eyebrow, "Would it make a difference if I did? You're
eighteen. Hell, for that matter, would it have made a difference before you
were eighteen?"

"It matters," said Thule, "but, I don't know that it would have made a
difference. You look pretty jet lagged."

"I don't know," said his father, "Was that a sunrise or a sunset I drove
into coming up 87 West?"

"If you drove into it..." said Thule.

"It must have been a sunset," said his father, taking a deep draught,
"heading west. Makes sense."

Marigold came out of the bedroom, padding on bare feet to sit next to Thule
on his couch, "Hello, Mr. Roemer. It's nice to meet you."

"Please," he said, "It's Kurt. Aren't you Marigold Tarr?"

Marigold nodded. Kurt raised his eyebrow meaningfully at Thule. Thule
ignored it, "Do you have time for me to do a load of laundry before you head
out again?"

"That would be great," said Kurt, "Listen, I'm really sorry I'm taking off
again so soon. It's just that they sell so few of these..."

"It's cool, Dad. I know," said Thule, "A man's got to make a living. Why
isn't Stephens leading the team in Ghana?"

"Stephens is three weeks into a deployment for some government department in
Amsterdam. McCormick is in charge of the Tokyo project."

"Collins?"

"Collins retired after South Africa. Il attends son jardin now. That's why I
got the promotion."

"So," said Thule, "It's permanent? Congratulations."

"I'll come back for graduation," said Kurt, "I wouldn't want to miss that."

"Mom's coming," said Thule.

"That's all right. It's a big stadium. I'm sure we won't have to sit
together," said Kurt, "How are she and Gunther doing?"

Thule shrugged, "Fine, I suppose. I only hear third-hand. We haven't really
talked since that custody stunt she pulled."

Kurt gave a short, barking laugh, "Don't be too hard on her, Bart. She's..."

"Nuts?" asked Thule.

"Yeah," said Kurt, "Are you eating all right? Not spending your food money
on computer equipment, are you?"

Thule laughed, "No. I only did that once, the first time you set up the
household account. I won't make that mistake again. Speaking of money..."

Kurt glanced meaningfully at Marigold again before asking, "You need some
more?"

"No," said Thule, "I just wanted to let you know that you don't have to kill
yourself worrying about tuition. I've managed to save up just about enough
for the first year."

Kurt looked surprised, "Did you sell your software? Con..."

"No," said Thule, "Like I said, I'm doing some office work--technical
recruiting."

Kurt raised an eyebrow, "That's pretty good money for office work. You're
not neglecting..."

"No," said Thule, "You'll still get to see my speech."

"Great," said Kurt, rising, "As much as I'd love to stay and talk, I almost
fell asleep twice on the drive from the airport. I'll make breakfast
tomorrow and wake you. Marigold, will you be here for breakfast?"

Marigold looked surprised at the question, "No, sir. I'm going to be heading
home soon."

"Well then," said Kurt, "It was nice meeting you again. You've certainly
grown into a lovely young woman. I imagine that I will see you again at
graduation." So saying, he lumbered off to his bedroom.

Marigold followed Thule as he lugged Kurt's suitcases down to the basement.
As he seperated white and colored clothes into two baskets, she said, "Your
father seems nice."

"Yeah," said Thule, "My dad's a great guy. His work keeps him away a lot, as
I'm sure you noticed. But, that's because there are less than two dozen
people who do what he does anymore and they all work on the same team."

"I was starting to wonder if you lived here alone," admitted Marigold.

"Most of the time, I do," said Thule, "Last year, he was on the road two
hundred seventy-four days. It would have been more, but my mother sued him
for custody and he had to keep flying back from Mexico City to deal with
it."

"What exactly does he do?" asked Marigold.

"He writes software for very big, very powerful computers," said Thule, "the
sort that only government agencies have the money and computational need for
now. The manufacturer ships my dad's team out with every installation."

"Those must be really powerful computers," said Marigold.

"The one they installed in Tokyo run the Nikkei," said Thule, "The one
before that is at the center of the new Indian fiber optic phone network.
I'm surprised Ghana could afford one."

"And he's okay with leaving you home alone so much?" asked Marigold.

"It's better than dragging me around with him," said Thule, "which, until
recently he couldn't have done anyway, since the custody decree says that he
can't move me out of the country. Otherwise, my mother wouldn't have been
able to not show up for her fortnightly visitations. Besides, as you may
have noticed, I'm fairly independent. And, truth be told, fatherhood was
never much of a vocation for him." He held out a yellow, button-down shirt
at arm's-length before dropping it into the basket of colored clothes, "When
he's in the thrall of a project, he can barely remember to take care of
himself."

"That's so sad," said Marigold.

Thule looked as if he'd never considered it from that angle, the said, "I
don't know. Very few people ever find something they like doing so much that
they can ignore the rest of the world and just focus on it. I think he's
kind of lucky."

                           -=-

The rest of the week went fairly smoothly. Thule found an IT security expert
for Jonas, caught up on most of his backed-up work, insinuated himself more
deeply into Randy Vandevoort's confidence, frequently wanting to shower
afterwards. On Friday morning, Randy handed him a thick envelope, "My old
man says this is his final offer and not to worry about there being no open
position. He'll take care of it." Inside was an additional forty thousand
dollars. When he got back to Randy, Thule said, "Fine, but I hate being
nickled and dimed. Let him know that it was a pleasure doing business with
him and I am at his disposal in the future, as long as he keeps paying."

Randy said, "Tell him yourself. I'm having a party next Saturday at the
house. Come early and he'll be there. I think he may have another proposal
for you."

That afternoon, Piotr Vasilev asked Thule for a ride home. Thule knew him,
at least in passing and profile. He was a wide receiver with good college
prospects and a couple of pro scouts sniffing around him. But, his family
was only minorly important in the grand scheme of things. Of all of the
members of Randy's innermost circle of friends, his position was the least
secure.

"No can do, my friend," said Thule, "It's a good ten minutes out of my way."

Randy, who had been watching while pretending to be engrossed in
conversation with Elliot, turned to look at them. Piotr turned to him
beseechingly. Thule behaved as if he had just done the most ordinary thing
in the world. Randy nodded at Thule, giving his benediction. All involved
parties plus three football players waiting behind Elliot for an audience
with Randy saw it.

Thule had figured out fairly early on that only two people in Mannsborough
High could decide how popular a boy was--the boy himself and Randy
Vandevoort. With a single nod, the power structure had shifted. Piotr
Vasilev was out and Thule was in.

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