index


Message-ID: <48019asstr$1085814606@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Vulgar Argot <vulgarargotREMOVEALL@CAPSinsidejoke.tv>
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Subject: {ASSM} Princes of Mannsborough, Chapter 11 of 22
Lines: 1069
Date: Sat, 29 May 2004 03:10:06 -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
(tags at bottom to avoid spoilerage)

"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 three 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.' Three 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 you. 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 Florita if you like."

Thule crouched in his closet, unzipping the duffel bag 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, Mayita."

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."

"I know and I know," said Maya. "Trust me. I'm as disgusted by my
behavior as you are."

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

Maya nodded, "Soon. There are some things I need to take care of.
Then, maybe, when I get the money..."

"Marigold's stepfather will take care of the money," said Thule. "When
you're ready, let me know and we'll get you help."

Maya didn't answer for a long time. Then, she said, "I won't be
bought, Thule. You, of all people, should know better than..."

"You've got nothing left to sell, Maya," said Thule quietly. "This
isn't in exchange for anything. This is because Marigold and I want
you to get the help you need."

Maya wept quietly. After a minute, Thule reached over and stroked her
hair with the back of his hand. The look of gratitude she gave him was
almost enough to break his heart.

As they emerged from the tunnel, Thule looked around, "Are you sure I
can't take you somewhere to get help?"

"Take me to 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 judgment, 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 Bartholomew 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 Dawn, "We have a date for this
weekend."

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

"Um, nowhere," said Dawn, 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, 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."

Dawn 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 turned, 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."

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

"Wait a second," Marigold called after him. "Did you just tell me you
loved me?"

Thule turned and nodded. Marigold smiled, "I thought so."

In the car, 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 Oksana.

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 Oksana, "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, "although I do believe I'll be able to pay--for the
first year, anyway."

Oksana 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, Oksana 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 discreet 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
too much 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. Soon enough,
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 still don't think I'm a lesbian," Dawn protested.

"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 acceptable 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
irresistible."

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 Vandevoorts 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."

"Did you talk to her about getting help?" Marigold asked.

Thule nodded, "Yeah. And she said she would, but there were some
things she needed to take care of first."

Marigold was thoughtful, "Jonas said he would help however he could.
Do you really think she'll get help."

"I don't know," said Thule. "She was in a bad way. It wasn't pretty."

"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, "We need to help
her, Thule. What else can we do to 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. Unfortunately, she's officially a grown up now. Until
someone officially declares her nuts, the decision has to be hers."

Marigold nodded, "What if she needs more help than Jonas can afford?"

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 two and a half billion dollars." 

Marigold looked stunned, "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
live comfortably enough and have 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."

"Unbelievable," 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 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 earnestly.

"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 trotted 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 and nodded, "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.

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

--Vulgar Argot
  http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/VulgarArgot/www
--
"Vulgarity begins when imagination succumbs to the explicit."
  --Doris Day

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+