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Message-ID: <47555asstr$1082538602@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Jack C Lipton <jcl@bogus.mailbox.server.org>
Subject: {ASSM} Arrivals [2/4] Late Arrival (MF rom)
Lines: 1357
Date: Wed, 21 Apr 2004 05:10:02 -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

Author: Jack C Lipton <cupasoup@softhome.net>
Title: Late Arrival
Part: 2/4
Universe: Arrivals
Summary: It _is_ a small world; no plan survives contact with reality
Keywords: MF rom
Revision: $Revision: 1.11 $
Archive: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/CupaSoup/www/
Mailing List: 
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RCS: $Id: sprungBreak.x,v 1.11 2004/04/11 15:35:26 jcl Exp $



			Late Arrival
			    2/4

		      by Jack C Lipton

I swear one day I'll kill my sisters, I really will.  They
rubbed it in that they were there when my mom got engaged to
be remarried, which was bad enough.  Add to this that I had
no warning whatsoever that she'd even been seriously dating.
So with no history, no nothing, *BOOM* this guy proposed to
her.

The pictures my sisters took of mom with this guy that I got
via e-mail showed a man around my mom's age with sad eyes.
He looked kind of cute to me, too, despite his age.  Legally
he'd become my step-dad, even though I was an adult and on
my own, so it'd only be a title.

I know my own dad hadn't been the best of husbands;  his
current girlfriend, by all accounts I'd recently heard, was
ready to kick his ass out her door.  I just hoped he
wouldn't land on *my* doorstep again.

At least he'd have to cross the whole fucking country to get
to me from California.

It probably didn't hurt that the only address he had for me
was a P.O. Box.  Some things I had to learn the hard way.

In all of the discussions with my sisters (and with my mom,
of course) we worked out a good target date for the wedding.

Why can't my mom just say "fuck it!" and just move in with
him?  Or even elope?  That would simplify so many things for
me and keep the pressure off so I could concentrate on my
work and school.  At least she put off the wedding until
mid-June, which worked well for me;  I would not have to
worry about missing my work as a teacher or any of my
classes.

So that wasn't *too* bad, I could cope with that, and it'd
be a stretch affording the tickets to fly up ... until the
other shoe dropped.

The bastard my mom was going to marry worked here in Tampa
and he was going to drive a truck up to Staten Island.  My
mom volunteered me to ride with him and share the driving.

All right, so that was the injury.  Assuming that I didn't
mind being volunteered without an opportunity to decline.

The insult they added was the teasing I got over this.

I kept being told that I wouldn't mind traveling with him,
that I'd be comfortable traveling with him.  I got teased
that we'd get along very well.  All this with them giggling
to my face with this teasing.  Even mom told me that I'd
enjoy the trip.  Yeah, right.

I don't respond well to being teased.  I did make sure they
know I was unhappy with their efforts to tease me.

So the call I got a week later from _him_ wasn't completely
unexpected.  He had a not unpleasant voice and he invited me
to meet him at his work for lunch one day.  He even e-mailed
me the menu of specials for the Cafe at work.

It was a nice day during spring break that I stopped by his
work, checked in with the security desk, and this fellow I'd
only seen some snapshots of arrived to fetch me.

He is so different from my father.  It was like night and
day: This guy was a techie, through and through, and he was
so unpolished it was almost unbelievable.  Gray mixed into
his short and poorly-kept beard, his blond hair color worked
to hide the rest of his gray hair.  Balding, eyes grey, a
warm look on his face.  No smooth talk at all, no flattery,
no romance, no nothing.  With this guy what you saw was what
you got.

And I wondered how my mom could think this kind of guy could
be sexy, much less marriageable.

All right, so he was polite.  He opened doors for me.  He
even treated me as if he liked me.

That's when it hit me:  he was almost transparent, so he
must have liked me.  And he seemed to not be any good at
hiding how he felt.

I found out that he might not have been way up in the
corporate food chain here but a lot of people that came
through the Cafe while we ate greeted him warmly.  One tall
(almost my height) and incredibly thin fellow asked to sit
with us and, with this Jack looking to me for my mood, was
encouraged.  My mom's beau introduced me as his "soon to be
step-daughter" to this "Carl" and I glared at him.

"Step daughter?  But I'm an adult!"

He smiled.  "It sounds funnier this way.  And, who knows, I
just might try to marry you off."

I can harrumph with the best of them, I don't care *how*
unladylike it sounds.  I was surprised at how he smiled at
me, like he thought that my outburst was acceptable.

Considering the kind of work he did I guess I should not
have been surprised.

We had a nice lunch together, even with...  all right, I
could just about accept him, now... "my step-dad" cracking
jokes and talking about the wedding and what he was planning
for his move.  He seemed comfortable talking to me.

Carl looked nice enough though I'd seen pictures of starving
people in Africa that made him look skeletal.  His lunch did
seem a little light to me.  He was definitely a techie and,
like other techies, treated me with disdain, not meeting my
eyes, the standard "I'm too good for you" attitude that had
turned me off in college.

The story of my life;  the techies didn't seem interested in
me and the guys like my real father were a dime a dozen.
All of the good-time boys were mostly interest in what was
between my legs rather then what was between my ears.

I knew what kind of man I really wanted, of course, but had
no idea what he'd look like or sound like.  It was the mind
behind the words that I'd devoured that had ensnared my
heart.

This man, though, struck some kind of a chord in me.  There
was something about him that seemed familiar.  I shrugged
off the thought that I might have met him before.

As we were getting up to go, my future step-dad asked "Wanna
go sailing this week-end?  The forecast looks pretty good
and you look like you could use some decompression time."

His face fell when I told him I'd have to think about it.
I followed him up to his cubicle (he'd signed me in, after
all, and got me a "sticky badge").

You can learn a lot about a person from their cubicle.  I'd
never realized, despite all of the silly movies and stories
about a cubicle-filled work space, what the reality would be
like.

Carl wandered off to his own cube a couple of rows away from
my new dad's (Jeez, I could think this to myself without
getting all pissed off already) and I saw...

This man, my future step-dad, was an interesting character.
He had a sailboat sculpture on top of this cabinets, he had
stuffed penguins and the like and, far more surprising, some
pictures that I recognized.

A picture of me with my sisters and mom, taken when I was
still in high school.  A picture of my mom standing with
this man, taken in her living room, and graduation pictures
for all three of us girls, too.

Another photo that I *didn't* recognize caught my eye...

I had to look more closely at it, so I picked up the frame
from his desk.  It had a teenage couple sitting on a picnic
table holding hands and looking at each other's eyes.  The
boy was awkward looking but the girl seemed...

It took a little bit of concentration but I recognized them
both.  That was my mom as a teen-ager, which meant that this
man was the boy I saw.  I could see their expressions of
happiness as they were caught looking in each other's eyes.

Where oh where could I find a man to look at me like that?

And my mom hadn't been that much better looking than I was
as a teen-ager.  It didn't seem fair, somehow.

I damn near wet my panties before I put the picture down.  I
pointed at the picture.  "That's you, isn't it?  With my
mom?"

He nodded.  "I had to dig deep to find this one.  I scanned
it in, cleaned it up, and printed it.  It was a miracle that
I still had it.  It's hard to believe now how close I've
came to throwing this picture away."

"So you met my mom in high school?  She didn't talk to me
much about that time period and neither of my sisters talked
about it or even asked her questions about it."

He nodded, his eyes becoming sad.  Those eyes would have
melted me down instantly if he wasn't already spoken for.
I'd never thought of myself as feeling so maternal;  I felt
the pull to hold and comfort him hit me almost out of the
blue.  I asked him "Why so sad?"

I saw him take a shaky breath; "Her parents moved away and
made sure she never saw any of the letters I wrote her.  It
looks like my parents were in the loop on that, so I never
saw any of the letters she wrote me back, either."

"Wow.  I guess mom dated on the rebound, I'll bet her folks
were pissed with the prick that knocked her up.  At least
you didn't..."

I stopped.  His face was turning red, blushing.  He looked
very uncomfortable.

We'd sat down and the family picture, an 8X10, was just over
his left shoulder.  My eyes were drawn to it.  Then to one
of the pictures of my sisters.

Jeeezuuuuussss.  I felt the air just escape me suddenly and
it was a good thing I was sitting.  Even sitting I could
feel my knees wobbling.

"You're not, right?"

He shook his head 'no', his sad eyes were back.  This man
was hurting enough that *I* could feel the pain.

"You got pictures of my sisters like this because they're
yours, right?"

He nodded, still with his sad eyes.  He looked like he was
very afraid...  of me?

"How long have you known?"

He seemed to relax, still looking jumpy though.  "Since my
trip up there back in February.  It sure caught me with one
heck of a surprise."

"So you proposed to my mom, right then and there?"  I was
starting to get angry, thinking that he'd taken advantage of
her somehow.  She had enough problems, she didn't need any
more.

He shook his head.  "It took a bit to realize that we had to
get over blaming the other, much less ourselves;  it wasn't
our fault.  Forgiving each other for the silence that we'd
blamed each other for had to happen first", I was able to
watch him go from a shocky defeated appearance to one filled
with some confidence, "but, once past that, it seemed the
most natural thing to do.  Sure, it was over thirty years
late, but, but... it seemed the most natural thing to do at
the time."

I realized then why I was here.  And why it was now.

He'd brought me here to judge him.

This was hard, now.  I'd built up some comfort with him.
With that comfort and rapport came some sensitivity:  I
didn't want to hurt him.  Sure, when he was a faceless
name to me I could have been harsh, but now?  Seeing his
eyes?  And the way my body was reacting to his presence?

His fears were still on his face.  He wanted my approval, if
only to know that I accepted him.  And, deep inside, I did
already accept him.  I realized where some of my attraction
to him came from:  my sisters.  His eyes, their eyes, some
of the facial shape...

My real father would not have thought twice, as if it was
his right to ignore my opinion completely, figuring that I'd
automatically agree with him.  It was refreshing to know
another man could value my opinion.

This man in front of me was a stranger, old enough to be my
father (and was the father of my older twin sisters) but he
was looking up to me now.

I wasn't sure that I was the right person for this.  It felt
like I was walking through a mine field, but a mis-step
would not hurt me directly, but him.  And I realized that I
didn't want him hurt, because that'd hurt my mom.

Yet some questions _had_ to be asked.  And it was my job in
the here and now to ask them.

"So you'll marry my mother?  Where will you both live?  Will
you be moving?  Or will she be expected to move?"

He shrugged.  "I'm trying for a transfer to New York but I
might have to hunt for a new job.  I'm not going to even try
to get her to move down here.  I'll also have to adapt to
the shorter sailing season up there, too."

The thought made me smile.  "And what does my mom think?"

He looked confused, answering with "She thinks she should
try out Florida for a couple of months first.  Somehow I
don't think she'd enjoy working down here."

I had to smile.  "She'd move for you, I think.  I can hear
it in her voice when she talks to me about you."  I was just
starting to understand why my mother's voice seemed to melt
when talking about him.

He looked scared again "But that's insane!  She's got a nice
house, a much nicer workplace and job than I do, hell, her
income is quite a bit higher than mine...  she's insane."

It was my turn to look perplexed.  "Insane?"  I though I was
alone in that assessment of my mother.

"She won't sign a pre-nup that protects her assets from me.
I'll be damned before I impact her finances.  And I sure as
hell don't want someone stupid to think I'm marrying her for
her money, either.  Like I said, she's insane.  And that
shrink of a daughter is backing her up!"

I slouched back in this office chair, which obliged me.  It
was funny but I had to get back on-track after thinking over
how to get this nice a chair at the school.  "So what's the
problem, then?"

His shoulders slumped, in a gesture of defeat.  He looked
beaten at that moment and the effort to not get up to hug
him wasn't easy.  "I want to protect her.  Especially from
myself.  I want to make sure that if anything goes wrong
that *I* can't hurt her any further."

This was weird.  His eyes, I could tell, were wet.  I needed
to change the subject...  and fast.  "So, when and where do
I meet you to go for a sail?"

He looked up at me, I could see the relief running through
him, then looked around.  I watched as he brought his laptop
back from the screensaver and he checked his calendar.  "Now
sounds like a good time.  I don't think I can concentrate on
work any more today.  Will that be all right with you?"

I nodded.

I followed him in my beater to the marina, which was part of
a condominium.  It was a nice spot, right near the gulf.

We didn't deal with things other than inconsequentials until
after we'd gotten into the bay with the sails up;  I was at
least able to help him by holding the wheel steady as he
ran the sails up and trimmed them.  He seemed to have fun
explaining what he was doing as he worked the various ropes.
(All right, so he taught me that "rope" is a word to be
avoided on a sailboat;  once it's in use it's either a line,
yard or, God help me from confusion, a "sheet".  Who came up
with these names?)

Once we'd shut down the motor it was my turn to feel fear.
Sure, I could manage this boat under power;  after all, he'd
shown me how to run the engine and coached me in steeering
us through the channel into the bay (while intense this was
thankfully not a "crash course") but raising the sails had
seemed a bit intensive and awkward to me.

All right, so I had no experience with sailboats.  Despite
having seen pictures, it took a lot of reassurance from Jack
before I accepted the leaning of the boat to be "normal"
once the sails really bit into the wind.

I watched this man, carefully.  I could see tension just
melt out of him as he worked the sails and gave me steering
orders, teaching me, through his example, how he watched the
wind and adjusted the sails.

But my other fear was how close he'd come to breaking
earlier.  Apparently meeting and committing to my mother
left him with additional anxieties.  And, in the back of my
mind, I was sure my two sisters didn't necessarily help
matters.  Those two were schemers.  I've seen some of the
practical jokes they played on each other... and on me.

It was nice to watch him now, though.  With the wind in his
hair and the sun on his scalp he showed calm and confidence.
I could almost see him re-charging his emotional batteries.

Unlike my sisters (and mother) I liked my hair long.  I'd
been fortunate (compared to them) of having hair that wasn't
curly, so it grew out nicely.  I'd put it in a pony tail but
learned that the scrunchy wasn't up to the task;  it faced
the wind and flinched and my hair was soon blowing free.
The feel of wind blowing my chestnut colored hair all over
changed a lot of my own feelings, standing at the wheel.  It
felt... free.  I saw him smile from behind a camera and
tried to not look at him as I heard the click and whir of
the captured moments.

I wondered, for a moment, what kind of reaction I could get
by posting that picture in the classroom where I taught
English.  I smiled, imagining what it would look like.  It
was turning out to be a good wind indicator...

It was funny, in a way.  He was kind, considerate, willing
to tell me things, asking me questions and listening to my
answers...

Despite the age difference, I think I would have jumped him,
right then and there.  Only the thought that I'd be poaching
held me back;  I could feel, deep inside, my desire to keep
him to myself.

On a couple of long runs-- "reaching" he called it-- we sat
side by side and talked about the wedding plans.  I did my
best to suppress the tingle I felt when we sat close
together.  It was more work for me to avoid sliding up to
him and wrapping my arms around him.  This was in conflict
with the pride I felt that he still had me working the
wheel.  The mixed feelings increased the tension I felt.

So to break the tension I started to ask odd questions about
this whole matrimony thing.  We discussed his properties
which needed to be resolved post-wedding.  He was planning
to sell his condominium apartment as soon as possible and
move the most critical of his gear up with him while dumping
his furniture.  And he'd sail the boat up during the summer,
though he admitted that he'd need crew.

If you don't think I volunteered to share a boat with him...

My sisters were right, I realized.  There was some kind of
chemistry between us.  I could tell, now and then, that he
was resisting it, just like I was, but I could read him so
much better than he could read me.

It was a good thing I was able to suppress most of my
reactions to him.

After returning we rode in his car to a nice seafood
restaurant for dinner.  Again, conversation flowed and I saw
this twitchy man continue to relax.  He asked me if I was
interested in seeing his condo before heading home and I
agreed;  it would be interesting to relate to my mom.

His condominium apartment was at the marina, where we'd left
my car.  My first impression was that it'd surely fetch a
good buck, especially with two bedrooms...

A great housekeeper he was not, but then, my mother had
never been all that anal-retentive in housekeeping herself,
probably as a result of her rigid and demanding parents.
His bookshelves showed his passion for the printed word,
another compatibility factor with my mother... and with me.
I couldn't resist thinking that it'd be a great step up for
me to move here but I wouldn't be able to afford to buy it.

Meanwhile, the tingle I'd been feeling had returned, much
stronger than before.  It took effort to keep it under some
semblance of control.  I didn't want to fuck up ...
literally ...  my mother's relationship with Jack.

"Uh...  Pam?" I heard him ask.

I turned to him, feeling a bit let down.  This was nice and
he was going to dump it just to move by my mother.  I nodded
to let him know I was listening.

"Do you think you can afford to live here?"

I shook my head, having just done the mental computations.
The mortgage alone would bury me, and let him know that.

I saw his eyebrows scrunch together.  "What?  I was just
talking about the maintenance fee, utilities and taxes.
There's no mortgage;  insurance money paid it off.  I was
thinking that if you live here to keep it up we can hold
ownership of it and have a place to visit.  With two
bedrooms it'd be a bit less of a problem that way, assuming
you can stand to have us around."

This was different.

Wow.

I started nodding.  "Yeah, I can handle it.  My lease is up
in another two months anyway.  Anything special I need to
know?"

"Just this" he said and pressed something into my hand.

This was a little soon.  He'd placed a key ring in my hand.

"This is the key to the condo, this is the key to the boat.
The second bedroom has been unused for a while, it has it's
own lock," pointing to the third key on the ring "which you
are welcome to move into once you're comfortable with the
idea."

I can only blame the tingle I now recognized as my formerly
dormant sex drive for my next tease: "So, are you going to
give me the root password to your servers?"

This guy didn't look so much scared as startled, as if he
knew where I got that line and didn't want to admit it.  I
could tell that he watched me for more than a few seconds
as I smiled back at him with as much of an innocent a look
as I could muster.  His tension dropped soon enough and I
looked over the smaller of the two bedrooms.

He called out "Once I move out I expect you to take over the
master bedroom, you know."

It was time for MY eyes to pop open this time.

"When we visit, your mom and I will be in the little bedroom
so that you don't have to move.  I imagine this will give
you some room to have your sisters visit, too."

I mumbled a "Thank you", gave my new step-father a warm hug,
and headed home to my small apartment, an itch flowering to
life just where I didn't need it.  I knew from the sensation
that something else had opened like a flower and I'd be busy
as soon as I got in to my apartment.

So when I returned I was surprised that the banging after
10PM as I brought in my luggage didn't wake the poor guy up;
he was sound asleep in a recliner, a Mac powerbook perched
with a throw pillow on his lap.  This tableau occupied a
corner of the living room and I saw that he still had his
phone's headset in place.  His face showed he was asleep and
it wasn't an unhappy look at all.

Asleep I could see a lot more in his face.  His face showed
so many things that I couldn't categorize so I cheated and
pulled out my own camera.  Here was a face I wanted to study
at my own leisure.

If he'd been in a bed I think I would've climbed in, just to
hold and be held by him.  Given this whole day I realized
the kind of luck my mother had.

Talk about transference.

I quietly worked to move my change of clothes and the like
to the small bedroom, made sure the bed was clear, used the
toilet to ensure I was empty, and stripped to a t-shirt and
panties (as if my titless frame had ever needed a bra)
before crashing in the bed.

It was a nice bed.

I was sound asleep before I remembered that I hadn't set an
alarm.

Laugh all you want;  I awakened at my normal time thinking
about the need to set an alarm clock.  My normal waking time
of 6:30 had arrived far sooner than I'd expected.  The night
had passed so quickly between closing my eyes to sleep and
my awakening.

My eyes popped open when I remembered I wasn't home.  None
of the background noise (sirens, loud cars, helicopters,
etc) I was used to was present and I was tempted to roll
over and stay in bed.

Normally I wake up pretty horny and need to use my hand to
take care of the itch, hence my early wakeup time.  Today I
was a bit more anxious because I'd just moved myself in to
my future step-father's apartment without his full approval.
Somehow I didn't think he'd appreciate me moving in as soon
as I had a key, but this seemed a much safer place for me to
live.

I dug my robe out of a bag, threw it on, and made my mad
dash for the hall bathroom.

When I finished with the first phase, I knew I'd need to get
my soap and the like so this was a more cautious foray into
the hall, and I took a quick look and found the recliner in
the living room empty;  he'd apparently made it to his bed
last night.

A sudden thought betrayed my control, as I wished he'd come
to my bed by mistake.  It took a few seconds to regain
control of my mind but my body had it's own ideas.

Back to my room, I gathered up the rest of my toiletries and
boldly went once more into the bathroom to take my shower.

Now I guess I should explain why, unlike a lot of girls I
knew, I shower instead of soak in a bathtub.

I don't fit.

I was built more like Carl, though not as emaciated.  I was
a 6'4", hazel-eyed, chestnut-haired, 32-28-34 woman with a
35" inseam.  I had more muscles than breasts.  No matter how
nice my face might be I didn't have the body to back it up.

And that body was too fucking long to lay comfortably in a
bathtub.

Do I sound frustrated?  No?  Obviously you're not listening
closely enough.  I'm frustrated by a lot of things.

My shower taken care of and blow-drying my hair finished,
I heard the sound of a toilet seat drop and the whoosh of
plumbing.

Hmmm...

How to surprise this man.

Naw, I didn't think making him breakfast would fly, not with
his reaction to me pulling his chain about passwords;
that'd sound too much like a story we'd obviously both read.

So when he got to the kitchen he found me digging a spoon
through a bowl of cereal.

I have *never* seen a man so surprised smile so quickly in
my life;  it was like I'd just electrocuted his pleasure
center.

He soon found a seat at the table, saying the first words
between us, "Good morning, Pam.  Since you have the sense to
eat breakfast, I think I'll join you."  He smiled again.

I couldn't help it;  I smiled back.  "Good morning, Jack.  I
hope you don't mind that I moved in on you?"

"Not at all.  When did you get here?"

I smiled.  "You were asleep in the recliner at 10 last night
and you looked very relaxed."

His smile seemed to become a smirk as he poured milk on his
cereal.  "Of course I'd be very relaxed;  I'd spent over an
hour talking to my fiance.  She told me to take care of her
wayward daughter, too, but would that have been Kelly or
Kim?"  His broad smile was such a tease but this got me so
anxious that my mother had exposed something about me that
I didn't want spread around.

Shit!  Shit!  Shit!

He suddenly looked perplexed.  "What's wrong?"

I was ready to melt down.  How do I cover up my most dirty
little secret?  Hmmmm...

"My mom doesn't approve of where I live and worries that I
might get hurt."

"Oh... then it's a good thing I have room for you.  I told
her last night that I'd offered and she let me know that she
would pressure you into following through.  I don't think we
need to worry about that now, right?"

I nodded and kept up this subject as he got ready to dip his
spoon, adding, "I hope you don't mind if I spend the rest of
the day moving my stuff in.  I'll leave my furniture behind,
it was all pretty miserable any way, but I've got a lot of
books to bring in."

He smiled.  "Good.  Books are good.  I'm enough of a Luddite
that I really do prefer paper."

We had a nice relaxed breakfast and it looked like he was
thinking hard over something, as if he was worried he'd
forgotten to do something.  I saw him snap his fingers, pop
back to his bedroom and return, pressing a cell-phone in my
hand.

I looked a question at him, so he answered "My wife's cell
phone, it's live, lots of minutes, use them.  I didn't even
think of turning the service off" he added, shrugging,
"please call your mom before you leave and let her know
what's going on, you don't want her to worry, right?"

I was sitting there dazed when he kissed my forehead, mussed
my hair and was out the door.

The tingle had gone from an indistinct whole body sensation
to a far more focused itch.  I dreaded standing up and
seeing the puddle I'd made on the chair.

I'd never gotten this kind of affection from my father, so
it wasn't something that would set Jack up in my mind as a
"dad".  It was more of a "he's a man, I'm a woman" as my
horniness kicked in again.  Father figure?  No fucking way!

What worried me, as soon as I knew he'd gone, was that my
panties were thoroughly drenched.  I'd never gotten so
turned on so quickly before in my life, so I went to my new
bedroom and took care of the problem.

An hour later I was still somewhat itchy but worn down just
enough as I used the cell phone, punching in my mom's cell
phone number.  When she answered with "Jack?"  I figured she
only checked the area code, which I'd bet was 727.  I'm sure
seeing an 813 would have told her it was me.

"No, Mom.  He gave me his dead wife's cell phone to use.  I
moved into his place last night."

My mom is a nutcase, all right?  She was so pleased that I'd
moved in with Jack but I had to cut her short.

"Mom, I have a problem.  A big problem.  Well, two of them."

Silence.  Then she asked me "What are these problems?"

"First, when he ruffled my hair this morning, I got really,
really turned on.  I swear, if he hadn't gotten out the door
quickly enough I was real close to jumping him."

My mom sighed.  "So?  You're a big girl now, right?"

"Yes, mom, I should be able to take care of myself, but it's
real hard to resist to urge when I look at him."

"I wasn't talking about you taking care of yourself like
that, Pam, I was talking about the fact that you know where
things go if you want them to.  You're a woman.  He's a man.
I think you can work out the rest."

My mom is a nutcase.  This confirmed it.  "Mom, if I didn't
know better, I'd swear that you're telling me that you don't
mind if he has sex with me, or me with him.  This is your
fiance we're talking about here!"

"And?  It's not like he's going to be able to ignore you all
that long, and I'll tell him, even if you don't want me to,
that you'd like to cuddle with him.  Then it's up to you to
jump him.  I want him entertained, not strung out the way he
was when I saw him last month."

"But mom, he loves you!  I've seen the pictures in his
cubicle!  Hell, I've seen the pictures he has of you HERE!"

"Pictures?"

"He has an old picture of you two holding hands looking in
each other's eyes.  I damn near came just looking at it,
once I knew who and what it was!"

My mom was silent.

"Mom, he's crazy about you.  I watch him get all dreamy when
he talks about you.  He's not going to be interested in a
bean pole like me!  And, c'mon, mom, he needs *you*, not
some kid like me."

"You might be surprised" came my mother's quiet voice from
the phone.  I pulled it away from my ear and stared at it
for a moment before putting it back.

"And the other thing...  mom, don't let him know about my
hobby, all right?  I don't want him to think I'm some kind
of a complete pervert."

I have *never* heard my mother laugh the way she did.  I've
heard a lot of other new things from her in the last couple
of weeks since Jack had proposed, but this belly laugh went
on and on.  I'd hear her regain control, breathing quickly,
and then crack up again.  It was several minutes before she
could talk and make sense again.

"Pam, here's what I want you to do.  I won't make any overt
indications about your hobby, but I'll be teasing you about
it indirectly.  I will tell Jack that you need to be cuddled
even though you won't admit it, and that if the two of you
go all the way I won't mind."

I pulled the phone from my ear to stare at it again.  I
wondered if I was talking to a copy of my mother from
another dimension.  "You're nuts mom.  Completely nuts.  I
think he may be too nice for me.  Please don't tempt me..."

"Well, take care of him for me.  I know he'll care for you
as best he can."

I surrendered, "All right, mom.  If we lose control, please
don't be unhappy with me?"

"Of course not.  I'll be happy for both of you.  I really
don't mind sharing my husband with you, all right?  I'll
talk to you tonight, Hon.  You have a nice day today, all
right?"

I grunted.

"And I love you."

"Love you too, Mom" and I hung up, thoroughly confused.  I
knew my mother wasn't that much of a "60's child" as implied
by what I'd heard but I was ready, I think, to hear her use
the word "groovy".  At this point it wouldn't shock me.

I had to spend another hour using my toys this time before
the itch had subsided enough for me to concentrate on other
things.  I showered again and took off for my old apartment.

It took another two trips with my dinky little car before I
had everything I wanted, including my PC.  I was working to
set it up in "my" bedroom when the cell phone he'd given me
started to ring.

"Hello?"  I didn't recognize the number in the little
window.

Jack's voice came through "Pam, I'm at the store.  What can
I pick up?  Want Fried Chicken?  Cold cuts?  Need anything
to drink?"

I'd looked through his pantry earlier for sodas and hadn't
seen anything I had a problem with, drink-wise.  "The
chicken sounds good."

"Great!  I'll see you in a wee bit" and he hung up.

I made sure the table was cleared and decided to put out the
place settings, glasses with ice, etc.

As I went to move the last of my clothes to my bedroom I
stopped and looked at what I'd done.

Why?

I've never felt this domestic!  Why did I do that?

I was standing there in the living room trying to figure out
where that impulse came from when he walked in, carrying two
bags, kissed me on the cheek and walked into the kitchen.  I
heard "That was very nice of you, Pam, but setting the table
should have been my job, as the host here.  Thank you very
much anyway" as he proceeded to put things away and put the
fried chicken on the table.

My nostrils suddenly notified me that I'd neglected a meal
during the day and my body was dragged to the table as the
gravitational force suddenly took hold.

Eating distracted me from the fire growing down below.  I
was already wondering if I had a yeast infection given how
horny I'd been since this morning even though I'd seen no
sign of one.

I've never been a "delicate" eater;  I growled as I gnawed
my way through this dinner, completely oblivious to how Jack
might see this "unladylike" behavior.  I heard him chuckle
and I stopped, staring at him.  He smiled at me.  "Pam, just
eat.  It's good to see that you're enjoying dinner."

It's odd, but I was.  My behavior at this table was so very
different from the decorum I showed last night.  He let me
know he was amused and not upset.

We ended up cleaning up the table together and brushed past
each other a lot as we worked closely.  I could tell he was
controlling himself which, oddly enough, got me hotter.

What the *fuck* was wrong with me?  I was sure that, by now,
he could smell the lubricant running into my underwear.

When we moved into the living room I sat as far from him as
I could;  he asked me why.

"I've gotta call my mom, all right?"

He nodded, pulled out the phone, hit the speaker button and
dialed up my mom.

"Sweetheart", Jack started, "I've got you on speaker with
Pam.  She's a bit upset and is sitting as far from me as she
can."

"She's trying to protect you, Hon" my mom answered, after a
short moment of silence.  The look of confusion on his face
almost caused me to laugh, but I realized that any laughter
would have been hurtful to him just then.

"Protect me from what?" he finally asked the phone.

"Herself.  She finds you attractive.  She's avoided sex for
too long and now she's horny."

The look on his face was... odd.  Shock, yes.  Fear, yes.
Disgust?  I looked and didn't find it.  Wasn't he repelled
by the way I looked?

"Mom" I jumped in, "you would not believe the look on his
face right now.  I'd half expect him to have a heart attack
with what you just told him.  It's just that he's not likely
to be attracted to me."

My mom's voice sounded warm and happy as she answered me "I
know that he likes you, even though he's not related to you.
I also know that he's had a lot of sexual frustration in his
life, too, and, by now, he's got to be pretty horny himself.
I know how attentive he is, I know what he wants, I even
know what *you* want.  Jack is nowhere near as kinky as I've
gotten over the years, so Kelly and Kim would have a hard
time trying to drag him into bed, but you can.  Jack, if my
little girl climbs on your lap, love her, please?"

He still looked perplexed, his mouth gaping.  It took more
than a few moments but I could see him steadying with each
breath.  "But it's you I want!" he finally blurted out.

Despite knowing he'd been resisting the same kind of pull as
I'd been, this stung a bit.

"Hon, you find Pam attractive, don't you?"

I watched his face as he showed surprise that the question
was even asked.  "Of course she's attractive!  Sure, she's
got an unfair advantage in having a lot of you in her, but
she's a beautiful young woman who can do better!  Some of
the guys at work who saw her yesterday were drooling, too.
You'd be surprised how many of the guys look over their
pictures and drool, even though they try to hide it.  And
Carl asked me if I'd be willing to pass his number to her."

First I felt a thrill run through me being told that I was
beautiful by the man I'd become so attracted to.  This
thrill intensified the existing itch.  My crotch was turning
in to a lake.  When I heard the news that the techies at his
work also found me (and, I figured, my sisters) attractive,
and that one in particular wanted to see me again, a
different thrill ran through me.

"So, Jack, it's up to you, now.  Do you pass her off to a
co-worker or do you cuddle her and have sex with her
tonight?"

His sad eyes were back, his shoulders slumped.  I heard him
say, quietly, the pain evident in his voice, "Don't you want
me any more?"  He thought my mom was rejecting him.

My mom answered "Of course I do!  But I also want you to be
happy.  I want my daughter to be happy, too.  So I do expect
you both to sleep together, now, and even after we marry.  I
know my sex drive has been declining a bit and I know you
still have one that drives you crazy, so this should help a
bit.  I also know you well enough to trust that you won't
let my daughter... and your lover... get hurt."

I think if my mother had arrived and smacked him in the head
with a baseball bat it would have left him less shaken up.

"Pam, dear, I want you to undress completely, show him how
wet you are, and climb on his lap.  Kiss him, seduce him as
best you can, fuck his brains out.  I don't want to hear
from either of you until tomorrow, all right?  Jack, you
hear me?  You fuck her brains out, too.  I love you both."

I was still worried, so I sat there, petrified, worried that
I'd make a mistake and hurt his feelings.

"Pam, I don't hear you moving.  Stand up, now!"  My mom's
voice suddenly acquired that sound of "command" and so I got
up and started peeling off my top and then unzipped my
jeans.  I could not believe how wet my jeans were in the
crotch;  that was not from merely dripping, I must've been
gushing down there.

Jack's eyes were locked on me and I heard my mom's command
voice tell him to stand up and strip.

I was peeling down my soaked undies when his drawers went
down and I saw his... dick.  There was no doubt in my mind
that he found me desirable.

Now I'm no virgin, all right?  But the guys I dated ended up
being the "four F" type:  Find, Feel, Fuck, Forget.  None of
them had been worth keeping, and the nice guys all seemed to
be either taken or, worse yet for my feelings, uninterested.

For some time I'd been in the same mode, just looking for
someone disposable to "scratch that itch".  This pretty much
means that I've gone along and fucked just from sheer
horniness, though it was usually with a rubber.  I didn't
always trust the men to be "clean".

This time, though, while the lust was there driving my body,
other parts of me were responding to the whole package.  As
my body reached a point I recognized now as "fully prepared"
my eyes sought his... and met them.

"Jack", my mom added on the phone, "sit somewhere where Pam
can straddle your lap.  She wants this.  Pam, dear, tell him
you want him."

I've never had to say that to any man.  I've felt it for one
man, though, and here was the second.  I'd never met the
first man in person yet.  "Jack, I want you.  Sit down right
there" pointing to the center of the couch.

Like a sleepwalker, he dazedly moved to and sat in the place
I'd indicated.  My mom spoke through the phone again: "Jack,
tell her that you want her and think she's beautiful"

I saw tears in his eyes;  he was in conflict.  "Buh...buh...
but..."

"Jack, I told you that I approve.  Now I'll tell you that I
am encouraging you to make love with my daughter.  She isn't
*your* daughter, so you can.  Look at her, she's excited by
you, right?"

He nodded before telling the phone, "Yes, she is excited."

"You're excited too, right?"

Looking at his erect dick I could tell;  I answered to get
around the sudden stricken look he showed.  "Yes, mom, he's
hard but scared."

"Pam, hon, tell him you love him and get on his lap right
away."

I followed her orders, but in a different order.  I knew I
was wide open so sliding down onto this man's erection was
no problem.  As soon as our pubic hair mingled, I sighed,
put my hands on his shoulders, and looked him in the eye:
"I love you, Jack."

His eyes were on mine;  wet, soft, sad, excited, all at the
same time.  I could see the truth as he told me "I love you,
too, Pam".

Seeing the love in a man's eyes like this for the first time
in my life set me off.  OK, so the twitch of his dick deep
inside me helped.

One of my traits helped me here.  I've known for some time
that I cum easily, but this was the fastest and easiest I'd
ever reached orgasm in my life.  My orgasmic nature was
actually sought after by various boys but the lack of
meaning eventually sapped me of any enthusiasm.  After a
while the orgasms alone were not enough.

This time it was more than "just sex".  And it made the sex
so good that every other time dimmed to insignificance.

There is no doubt that I surprised Jack with my first
orgasm, right away, pretty much just from reaching full
penetration.  It hadn't hurt I'd been on a hair trigger all
day and I was mentally very ready along with being very
horny.  As soon as I had control of myself again, I started
to ride him, my eyes and his meeting as much as possible as
I slid up and down.  My climb to my second climax was short,
hard, wet and sweet.  We then moved together to bring me my
third ... and he joined me, stiffening, moaning and pulled
me to him, hugging me and squeezing me, telling me he loved
me.

None of the guys I'd ever gone all the way with had ever
told me they loved me during their climax.  This man was
different.

My own climax was hard and I knew I'd sprayed him down, but
I felt no worry in his arms as I lay against his chest, my
mouth by his ear, moaning out my own message of love mixed
with my lust.

We'd forgotten our audience.  As our breathing slowed we
could hear moaning and groaning from the phone and, in her
own crescendo, my mother came too.

At the sound of her climax over the phone my own insides
clutched at this man in sympathy.  His hands on my back,
scratching it here and there, rubbing some of my neck and
shoulder muscles, reminded me that he still loved me.  I got
control back, stayed on his softening member, and looked him
in the eyes... and couldn't speak.  I had a hard time seeing
him through the water in my own.

My mom was still breathing heavy as she came down from her
own orgasm when she added "You know...  I'm tempted to fly
down there to watch you two in person.  Jack, I love you."

I felt him sob.  "I love you, too, but..."

Is he an idiot or what?  "Jack, can't you love both my mom
and me?  Or are you limited to one or the other?"

The look on his face was priceless, and me without a camera.
I hoped that I could commit it to memory to savor for the
rest of my life.  I could tell that he realized that he
*could* love both of us like this.  I spoke over my shoulder
"Mom, he understands now.  I bet he thought a conventional
one-to-one was what you'd hold him to.  At least I can get a
piece of him.  Thanks, mom."

He spoke then "I love you, Pat.  I miss you."  His eyes
sought mine again, meeting, "and I love you too, Pam."

"Good, that's settled" came my mom's voice again.  "I know
it's still early for you, but you two should get to bed."

I started counting down in my head...  3...  2...  1...

"Oh, and Jack, Pam, I'm talking about the same bed.  When we
talk tomorrow morning I want to be able to tell that your
brains have been fucked out, all right?  And I expect the
glow through the phone to give me a tan.  Now, I love you
both, go to bed, good night" and I heard her phone hang up.

I looked in his eyes.  "Well, she seems to have some good
ideas, doesn't she?  Let's go!"

Despite the age difference, I could tell that I was leading
him when it came to sex.  It was flattering in it's own way,
of course, but I could already see that I'd want him to be
more assertive towards me on occasion.  I kissed him, hard,
then started to climb off of his lap, dreading the mess we'd
find.

Now I've had unprotected sex before, though not often.  This
was a first, though--  I was wet but none of his semen came
out of me as I stood up.  We hung up the phone and moved to
use his bathroom (taking a shower together) before climbing
into his bed.

At first we spooned and talked.  He's scratch my back, kiss
my shoulder, and I'd squirm back against him, take his hand,
kiss it's back, and hold it to one of my nipples, which he'd
play with.

That this attention made me squirm *more* and get ready for
more action was not lost on him.

How such an older man could get it up for us to do it three
more times... all right, twice before sleep and once in the
morning... seemed unusual.  That I had no problem climaxing
early and often had a lot to do with how my mood was so good
by morning.

Breakfast was relaxed and we called my mom.

Well, we did sound like our brains were fucked out.  We'd
burned each other that morning just by smiling at each
other.  It was a pleasure to listen to his happy voice
talking to my mom, his fiance, and how it just melted as
they told each other how much they loved each other.

It's funny, knowing that I've got a piece of him now, and
that he could love me like that too.  It was funny how this
morning differed in other respects;  his deposit inside me
actually felt good to me and I didn't feel the same itch.

We kissed, he off to work, I cleaned up a bit, then went off
to the school to catch up on some paperwork and get some
lesson planning done.

It seemed funny how well my day went, including some funny
looks from the other teachers.  I returned "home", back to
the scene of our assignation, and started to neaten up the
living room.

It was there that I spotted something that froze my insides.

It was a printed e-mail containing a Joel Jackson story; the
way the title block was set up jumped out at me.  I picked
it up, dreading what I'd find.

I read the headers and there was no mistake, then scanned
the rest of the pages, looking over the changes marked in
the story.

My blood ran cold.  I was a fool, the butt of a practical
joke, played on me by my mother and sisters.

I get angry when this happens.  This time I was seething.

Instead of ripping Jack a new asshole right away, I decided
to call my mom and blast her, instead.  She's the one who'd
not warned me.

My first words when she answered her phone was: "Mom, why
didn't you *tell* me who he was?"

My mom laughed.  "I wanted you to feel the kind of surprise
that *we* felt, when Kelly met him on the ferry, all by
accident!"

Oh.  "You know you'll have to tell me that whole story, Mom.
And you'll have to explain what my part is in this."  The
anger I'd felt building drained away almost instantly.

"Yes, but that's not so immediate.  OK, so you know who he
is.  I haven't told him who you are.  When are you going to
do that?"

"Let me think it over.  I might be able to play this one out
for a couple of days, all right?"

I could hear the smile in my mom's voice as she told me "All
right, just don't give him a heart attack or a stroke, OK?"

"Sure, mom.  Love you."

"Love you too, hon.  Talk to you guys later."

Due to the ironic nature of the Universe, I hung up as Jack
walked in, seeing me standing with the printout of an e-mail
I'd sent him.  I could see the blood drain from his face as
he recognized what I was holding.

I realized, in that moment, that I couldn't be as cruel as
I'd thought of being.  "Jack, how are you doing on these
edits I sent you?"

I've never before seen a grown man faint.  He just folded,
fortunately not striking his head.  I dropped the papers and
was there quickly to hold him and, just for luck, checked
his pulse and respiration.  Good, he wasn't dying, he'd just
passed out from the shock.

I kissed his forehead several times waiting for him to wake
up from his faint, making sure that I looked as happy as
possible with him there, just to reduce his stress when he
opened his eyes.

When he finally came to his look of fear as he looked up to
me almost had him looking ready to faint again, but I felt a
need to touch his face to give comfort.  It was funny to
watch his eyes as he slowly returned to the here and now.

He still had some confusion in his eyes as he tried to sort
things out.  His first question on locking eyes with me was
"Paulette?"

I nodded.

He exhaled and I saw him gather strength again.  "Yeah, in
hindsight, I realize the hints, now.  The Paulette Richmond
should have been a tip-off but is only obvious now in 
hindsight."

As he did this I stroked his thinning hair from his forehead
and thought about my little fantasies of meeting his alter
ego.  I'd seen that his real personality wasn't all that far
from his fictitious one.  Almost everything I'd seen about
him mapped well to the analyses Kim had done from his
writing, covering his personal growth over time.  Kim was
thinking that it was a good way to deal with patients by
having them write their own "sex" stories.

His next words were "What would you like to do for dinner
tonight?"

I giggled;  he was still flat on his back, as I'd moved him
around while waiting for him to wake up.  It seemed funny.
"What are you offering?"

I could see him thinking;  he was still looking at me but it
looked like his eyes lost focus, the pupils going from
almost wide open to almost pinpoints, bringing back a lot of
the grey.

My hands were still in his hair, brushing his forehead as he
thought, and I glanced over...

I really shouldn't have looked.  Seeing that he was turned
on turned _me_ back on, too, and I felt the heat grow
between my legs.  It was my body that made the decision over
what to do next, not my brain.

It's funny how guys can think with their dicks.  Right at
that moment I must've been thinking with my pussy.

Just in a matter of seconds I'd gently placed his head on
the floor, got up, dropped my jeans and panties, pulled off
his pants (he cooperated with me in lifting his buff off of
the floor) and climbed onto him.

Again I was the aggressor.  In all of my previous
relationships I'd let the man take the lead and went along
with it.  Here I was breaking that pattern by repeated our
first time together.

It took almost no time at all for me to forget all that as I
worked towards my first orgasm.  As I've said it doesn't
take me long, so this time I reached my peak for the fourth
time when he joined me;  either I was speeding up in my
orgasmic cycle or he was slowing down.

And believe me, I wasn't complaining.

Either way I liked it.  His look of comfort and relaxation,
even on the floor, felt good to see.  I managed to get us
both moving to the bedroom where we stripped the rest of the
way and laid down to cuddle.  Again, I felt content.

I realized part of my mother's plan and why she'd chosen to
share her future husband with me.

Consider, I had been the one who'd introduced both mom and
my sisters to this man's written work.  And when I started
to edit his stories for him I'd gotten to discuss a lot of
his issues via e-mail and gotten interested in him.

A second part hit me after we'd fucked each other's brains
out again.  He'd fallen asleep with my head cradled on his
shoulder.  I was laying there happily content when something
my mother didn't mention the day before finally hit me.

I once had been on the pill to stabilize my periods along
with an attempt to make my breasts bigger.  It didn't make
any difference and I'd given up on them.  I'd also recently
gained some weight so my period had come back, and had
mentioned that to my mother.  I was fertile, assuming he had 
athletic sperm.  And my mother had never thought to remind
me to use contraceptives.

Apparently my mother knew where this man's "on" buttons
were, just like I did.  And we'd had sex... to me, wonderful
sex...  unprotected.  My mother had encouraged this, too.
So some of my own "on" buttons had been pushed.  That's when
the realization of my mother's machinations crystallized.

She'd used me.  She'd taken advantage of my own romantic
ideals to use me.  She'd used me as a lure to this man and
was, in a way, ensuring his bond to our family.  I realized
that he'd never be able to disappear again.  I'd known how
deep Jack's sense of honor ran and everything I'd learned
since meeting him had confirmed this.

Despite this sensation that my mother was manipulating so
much, I was still content.  I had something up my sleeve.
I knew things they didn't.  I held the upper hand.  It would
be my turn to laugh at my sisters.

So maybe I wouldn't need to kill them after all.

With my mother's encouragement, I'd urge him into doing his
level best to impregnate me.  With the realization that I'd
left myself unprotected, I started to count, smiling as I
got a reassuring answer.

It's funny: I was an English teacher and now I'd be getting
a very personal lesson in multiplication.

I smiled and cuddled closer to him, bringing a smile to his
sleeping face that mirrored my own.  I listened to his slow
breathing and could feel myself fading...

-- 
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reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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