index


Message-ID: <48355asstr$1088759405@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: RuthiesStories@aol.com
Subject: {ASSM} (Betsy) Betsy Laughed {Jack of All Trades}
Lines: 831
Date: Fri,  2 Jul 2004 05:10:05 -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


 

<1st attachment, "Betsy Laughed.txt" begin>

Betsy Laughed By Jack Of All Trades

   I don't know what made me stop at the corner of the alley.  It was early
spring and the air was cold and damp.  The weatherman had called for rain
but the clouds weren't cooperating.  I suppose it was the chill that made
me stand there and rub my hands together for warmth, or maybe it was
providence.  More likely, it was pure blind luck.

   Suddenly I heard a woman's scream, short, as if it had been cut off by
something clamped over her mouth.  Let it be, I told myself, knowing I
wouldn't follow my own advice.  I couldn't.  Someone needed help and I was
there, it was as simple as that.  I crept down the alley, staying in the
shadows until I had a chance to check out the situation.

   In the dim light I saw them, three males, two of whom were holding what
looked like a female as she struggled to get free.  One had his hand
clamped over her mouth.  The third was ripping at her clothes.  I could
hear the distinct sound of tearing cloth and saw her shirt part, exposing
her stomach and braless breasts to the chill night air.  It was time to
make my presence known.

   "Just what the fuck do you think you're doing?" I shouted at the top of
my lungs from the shadows.  The two holding the woman jumped, releasing
their hold on her in their surprise.  I moved threateningly from the
shadows and they bolted, leaving their friend to face me alone.  I caught
the glint of the knife as he whirled to face me.

   "Back off, fucker!" he shouted.  I was surprised at the youthfulness of
his voice.  He couldn't have been more than fourteen.  "I've got a knife."

   "So I see," I said calmly while I walked steadily, confidently toward
him.

   "I'll fuck you up, man."

   "Maybe, or maybe I'll take the knife from you and fuck you up.  You
never know.  Why don't you join your friends and get the hell out of here?"

   He glanced nervously at his intended victim.  She was huddled against
the wall, sobbing softly.  He looked back at me as I kept advancing. 
"You're lucky, bitch!" he spat, then turned tail and ran to join his
friends.

   I walked over to the woman, getting my first good look at her.  She
appeared to be about seventeen, maybe eighteen, at a stretch.  She glanced
up at me, her large eyes open wide in fright as my shadow fell upon her. 
My heart stopped, my own eyes had to be wide in surprise.  The resemblance
between her and Cindy was remarkable.

   Time heals all wounds, so they say, but time hadn't healed the scars
Cindy left on my soul.  I was willing to give her everything I had,
anything I could, and in the end it wasn't enough.  She owned my heart,
whether she cared to or not.

   One day I came home early from work to surprise her.  It was her
birthday and I carried a rose bouquet in my hand.  I let myself into the
apartment quietly, then searched for her.  I heard her voice in the
bedroom. I crept down the hall and found her.  Cindy was riding another
man. Sweat glistened on her body as she moved sensuously above him.  She
was beautiful and sexy, her head thrown back in passion as the man's hands
fondled her breasts roughly.  The same breasts I had lovingly nuzzled that
morning before going to work.  I couldn't bear to watch.  I turned and
walked quietly back to the living room, collapsing into a chair.  I heard
the man's moans, Cindy's shrieks, as they concluded their union and
shredded my heart.  Cindy left me that day, but her betrayal never did. 
After she was gone, I let the roses die on the carpet where they fell.  It
seemed right.

   I shook my head to clear the painful memories.  "It's okay, I'm not
going to hurt you," I said to the young woman, trying to calm her.

   "Th-they ripped my shirt," she sobbed.

   "It'll be okay, you can get another."

   "I, I don't have any money."

   I studied her more closely.  She had runaway written all over her,
surprising I hadn't seen it before.  Lights from a turning car shone down
the alley and I could see that her hair was long and brown, like Cindy's.
She was shivering.  "Are you cold?" She nodded.  I took off my jacket and
draped it over her shoulders.  "Put it on, it'll help you warm up." She
shrugged her arms into the jacket, holding it tight around her.

   "Thanks," she mumbled with a tremor to her voice.

   "I don't suppose I could help you up so we could get out of this alley?"
I held out my hand.  She regarded it warily, then reached out and placed
her small hand in mine.  I pulled slightly, helping her to her feet.  "Come
on." I started walking toward the street, and she followed in my wake.  We
made it to the corner and I stopped, waiting for her to catch up.  The glow
from the streetlight revealed more details.  She was pretty, about 5 foot 3
or so, not thin but definitely not fat, and her eyes were a deep, rich
brown.

   "Thanks, mister." She began to take off the jacket.

   "No, leave it on.  Are you hungry?"

   She regarded me suspiciously.  "I told you, I don't have any money."

   "I heard.  I'll treat, are you hungry?"

   "I could eat."

   "There's a coffee shop that stays open late on the next block.  We'll
get something there."

   We walked to the shop and I ordered coffee and doughnuts from the
street-side window.  We sat down at one of their tables and I pushed the
doughnuts toward her.  "Dig in." She grabbed a doughnut and attacked it
ravenously.

   "It's good," she said around a mouthful of doughnut, the white powder
caking the corners of her lips.

   "Eat the other, I'm not really hungry." She slowed her pace, no longer
stuffing it into her mouth as fast as she could chew.  She swallowed then
sipped at her coffee.  "I'm Howard Bloom," I said holding out my hand.

   The girl wiped her hand on her jeans then took mine.  "Betsy Powell."

   "What are you running from, Betsy?"

   Suspicion crept back into her eyes.  "Who said I was running?"

   "It's fairly obvious."

   Betsy shrugged.  "It's not like it's any big secret.  My mom got
married. Her husband figured marrying her gave him rights to me, too.  So I
took off."

   "When?"

   "About six weeks ago.  It's not like anyone gives a rat's ass where I
am. Mom never really cared much for me and I'm eighteen so they can't do
nothing about it anyway."

   "You have a place to stay?"

   "I make do."

   "Uh-huh.  They have shelters..."

   "Hah!  I did that the first night I got here.  Woke up to some drunk
pawing all over my tits.  I'll find a place to lay up."

   I nodded.  "How did you end up in the alley?"

   She cast her eyes downward.  "That was a mistake.  They said they knew a
place where I could crash for the night.  They led me back to the alley and
next thing I knew, two of them grabbed me while the other felt me up.  I
tried to stop it but couldn't.  You saw what happened," Betsy mumbled.

   "Might have been your last mistake if that boy decided to use his knife
on you."

   Her head came up, eyes glinting with anger.  "I said it was a mistake."

   "Look, I've got a spare bedroom.  Why don't you crash there for the
night?"

   "What do you want back?"

   Her question answered how she had managed to survive the past six weeks.
"Nothing."

   "Nobody does nothing for free, everybody wants something."

   I suppose her statement was true for someone in her predicament.  When
you have little you usually pay most dearly.  "I've got a room, it's not
being used, you're welcome to use it, and I don't want a thing from you."

   She smiled, not really believing me, but still said, "Okay." I shoved
the empty cardboard tray in the garbage slot, and we left.  I led her to my
building and up the stairs to my apartment, unlocking the door and inviting
her inside.  Betsy looked around like she was taking inventory.  I had
gotten lazy after Cindy left me.  The apartment looked it.

   "Gee, I like what you've done with it," she said sarcastically.

   "It's a place to sleep."

   "Barely.  Mind if I take a shower?" I showed her to the bathroom and
gave her a towel from the linen closet.  "Thanks," she said as she closed
the door.

   A few minutes later I heard the shower running.  I dropped into a chair
in the living room.  Christ, I must be crazy.  Rescuing her.  I had no
choice.  I had to do it.  But inviting her back to my apartment?  I'd be
lucky if I wasn't ripped off by morning.  Lord, she looked so much like
Cindy it was scary.  Memories, long buried under the debris of life, came
flooding back.  I closed my eyes and let them wash over me.

   "Howard?"

   I opened my eyes.  "Jesus!" I exhaled in an explosion of breath.  Betsy
stood before me, small beads of water glistening where she hadn't dried. 
She was gorgeous.  Rubens would have drooled at the thought of painting
her. Full, firm breasts, her nipples and areola a deep dark brown, crinkled
and erect.  My eyes traveled downward, took in the small swell of her
stomach, the wispy brown curls of her pubis.  My cock throbbed in my pants.
I wanted her, now, desperately, hungrily.

   She smiled knowingly, as if she could read my mind, but she couldn't. 
My mind had ceased to function, hormones and a smaller head were doing the
thinking now.  Betsy came over to me, smelling of soap and youth and
freshness.  She knelt in front of me, placing her hand in my lap, stroking
me softly.  I moaned, wanting her more than ever.  Somewhere, buried deep
in the back of my brain, an alarm sounded.  Faint, barely more than a
whisper, hardly heard over the tympanic drumming of my heart.  Then louder,
more urgent, demanding action.  I covered her hand with mine, stopped the
stroking.  "Stop," I groaned.

   "What's the matter, don't you like it?" she asked, a puzzled look on her
face.

   "I like it fine.  You don't have to have sex with me to sleep here."

   "I pay my debts.  I don't want charity!"

   "It's not a debt.  It isn't costing me a dime to let you sleep here."

   "You don't like me.  I'm too fat, is that it?  I'll get my things and
leave." She stood up, took a step toward the bathroom.  Jesus, she had an
ass that almost stopped my heart.

   "Stop!" I roared.  "Betsy, you're unbelievably sexy and beautiful and
I'll kick myself in the morning for passing up this chance.  But I don't
want to have sex with you out of some misguided notion you have that you
owe me something."

   She turned back toward me, tears in her eyes.  "Why do you have to make
things so complicated?  Why can't we just have some fun and I can leave in
the morning not feeling like I owe you anything?"

   "Because you don't owe me anything, not now, not ever.  And because I'm
a complicated man."

   She smiled through her tears.  "Men aren't complicated.  In the end they
only want one thing."

   "Some do, some...  I want more."

   "I can't give more," she wailed.  "I won't."

   "Then don't, I wasn't expecting it."

   "I need to leave, I can't stay."

   "It's late, sleep here, you can leave in the morning."

   "And owe you my soul."

   "And owe me nothing."

   "It's not that simple."

   "It is to me.  The room's at the end of the hall." She went in the
bathroom and got her clothes.  For a minute I thought she was dressing to
leave.  Then she came out, her clothes clutched under her arm, and padded
naked down the hall.  "I'll see you in the morning," I said.

   "Not if I can help it," she replied without even turning around.

   Sleep never comes easily to me, tonight was worse than ever.  I tossed
and turned, castigating myself for not taken something so freely offered.
Finally I slept, and dreamed of Cindy and Betsy, and in the end only Betsy.
When I awoke she was gone.



   I searched for her.  I told myself just to make sure she was okay, but
there was more there than I was willing to admit.  Pathetic, a 34-year old
man, searching for some eighteen-year old Lolita who had captured his
heart. If she was out there, I couldn't find her.  After two days I gave
up. I slipped back into my routine of walking the streets at night to tire
my body and make sleep come easier.  I looked for her during those walks,
amongst the half-dead girls walking the streets, hustling for money to line
their pimp's pockets and purchase drugs to escape their hell.  She was not
among them and I was thankful.

   Friday I walked longer than usual.  My body refused to tire so I pressed
on, needing the physical exhaustion like a junkie needs a fix.  I returned
to my apartment and found her there, slumped in front of the door, her face
battered and bloody, clothes ripped.

   "Howard, please help," she said thickly, the words costing her dearly,
pain evident in her face.

   I scooped her up in my arms and she gasped as I jostled her.  I carried
her down the stairs, sat her inside my car, and drove to the hospital
emergency room.  Along the way, Betsy passed out, and I carried her inside.
A triage nurse waved me past the line of people waiting to fill out forms.
I laid Betsy on a gurney.  A second nurse with a clipboard joined us.

   "What the hell happened to her?"

   "I don't know, I came home and found her laying in front of my door like
that."

   "You know her name?"

   "Betsy Powell."

   "Age?"

   "Eighteen."

   "Next of kin?"

   "No idea."

   "Who are you?"

   "Howard Bloom.  I'm a friend."

   The questions went on from there, fired in a rapid staccato as one nurse
fussed with Betsy, taking her temperature, blood pressure, checking her
vital signs, while the other jotted down my answers.

   A short time later a doctor joined us and examined Betsy.  He began
firing off words to the nurse with the clipboard so fast I couldn't keep
up. Words like concussion, fracture, contusion, with other medical terms
mixed in.  The litany frightened me, made me wonder if Betsy would survive.
One of the nurses said, "She'll be okay, you need to wait outside," so I
wandered out to the waiting room where I sat and worried for two hours
before the nurse returned.

   "The doctor wants to keep her overnight.  She has a concussion and a
couple of fractured ribs.  The rest are just cuts and bruises that will
heal quickly enough.  Somebody roughed her up pretty good.  You have any
idea who it was?"

   "No, we're friends but not close.  I haven't seen her in a couple of
days."

   "They're taking her upstairs in a few minutes.  You can go in and say
goodbye, then you should go home and get some sleep.  Visiting hours start
at nine in the morning."

   I returned to the emergency room and found Betsy's cubicle.  She was
awake now and tried to smile.  A corner of her mouth turned up slightly and
even that obviously caused pain.  I walked over to her, squeezed her hand
gently.  "Hey, " I said, giving her my biggest hospital sunshine grin.

   "Thanks," she croaked breathlessly.

   "They're going to keep you in for a bit." She nodded slightly.  "I'll be
back in the morning to check on you." A small tear appeared at the corner
of her eye, slid lazily across her cheek.  I wiped it away with the back of
a finger.  She nodded again.  A nurse came in and prepared the gurney to
take her upstairs.

   "You need to leave now," the nurse told me.

   "Sleep well," I said to Betsy as I left.

   I went home and tried to sleep.  My body was exhausted but my mind
fought it.  I kept picturing Betsy the way she was when I found her, the
way she looked laying in the emergency room.  Sleep came eventually but
provided little rest.

   The next morning I got Betsy's room number at the hospital's information
desk and hurried along the hallway.  I sucked in a deep breath when I saw
her, eyes closed, apparently sleeping.  The bruises on her face shone in
multi-colored hues and her body was folded as if in pain.  Betsy must have
heard me enter because she opened her blood-shot eyes.  "Is it bad?" she
asked softly.

   I walked over to her, took her hand.  "It's bad but they'll go away. 
How are you feeling?"

   "I hurt, but I'll live.  Thanks for helping me."

   "Don't mention it.  What did they tell you about your injuries?"

   "I have a concussion, two broken ribs, and some teeth knocked loose."

   "Who did it?"

   "I don't know his name, that bastard.  But I'd sure know him if I saw
him.  And I didn't even get paid."

   I felt only pity for her.  "Going to press charges?" I asked.

   Betsy looked away.  "No."

   If she expected an argument from me she didn't get it.  "Good." She
turned back to me, surprised.  "If you did, you'd have to go to trial, he'd
probably get six months, be out in three, then come looking for you."

   Awareness dawned in her eyes.  "I hadn't thought of that."

   "Still, you made the right choice.  Once we get you out of here, you're
going to stay with me until you're on your feet again.  Then we'll find you
a job and a place to live.  You're not going back on the streets."

   She was shaking her head slowly side to side.  "Why do you care?  Why
are you doing these things for me?"

   "To answer your last question first, because I care.  I can't stand
seeing you hurt and broken.  As for why I care, there's no explanation, I
just do.  You remind me of someone."

   "Cindy?"

   The question shocked me, left me speechless for a moment.  "How.  how
did you know?"

   "You talk in your sleep.  I came to your room that first night when I
heard you talking.  I thought you called my name.  You were thrashing
about. I couldn't hear much, just my name and Cindy's.  Tell me about her."

   "Not much to tell," I said evasively, not wanting her to push the
subject.

   Her eyes welled with tears.  "Please, please, I need to know."

   Her pleading found my soft side.  "Okay.  Cindy and I met when she ran
her car into a telephone pole and I did the insurance papers.  That's my
job, I'm an insurance adjuster.  I checked out her car and did the estimate
to get it repaired.  I ran into her later at a restaurant.  Some guy stood
her up, so I invited her to eat with me.  One thing led to another.  We
began dating, became lovers, then we broke up.  That's about it." I tried
to make it sound casual, hide the way she broke my heart.

   Betsy studied me for a moment, seeming to search for more clues about
who I was.  Finally, she asked, "You still love her?"

   It was really more a statement than a question.  I answered it anyway.
"I did, I don't now."

   She turned away.  In a strained voice she said, "I'm getting tired.  I
need to sleep for a bit.  Why don't you go get something to eat?" She
wanted to be alone, I wasn't sure why, but if it was in my power to give it
to her, I would.  I got up and left the room.  Faintly, as I stepped past
the door, I thought I heard a sob.

   When I returned from the hospital cafeteria, the doctor was signing
Betsy out.  He wrote her a prescription for painkillers and told her to
stay off her feet for a few days to give her ribs a chance to heal.  I got
Betsy in my car and took her home.

   Betsy wasn't exactly a model patient.  She didn't like being waited on
and I soon drove her crazy.  I got her some paperbacks and magazines but
they did little to relieve her boredom.  I moved the TV into her room and
for a while it helped but by the end of the day she was as restless as
before.  Only talking seemed to keep her occupied.  So we talked and filled
in the holes of each other's history before her late-night dose of
painkillers finally put her to sleep.  For once, I fell asleep easily.

   I was awakened by the sound of a motor running.  I got out of bed to
investigate.  Betsy was standing in the middle of the living room vacuuming
the floor.  Her only covering was a pair of my boxer shorts and the tape
slapped over her ribs.  I pulled the plug, the motor died, and Betsy looked
over at me, clearly annoyed.  "Why'd you do that, Howard?" she asked.

   "What's going on, Betsy?" I asked, my voice rising.  "The doctor told
you to take it easy."

   "If I don't do something I'm going to go bug-jumping crazy.  Please?  I
need to do something," she asked plaintively.

   I thought for a moment, then gave in.  How was I going to stop her
anyway?  "Don't overdo it-and put on some clothing.  It's not that warm in
here." She smiled.  An easy victory.  "I'm going to the store to get us a
few things.  Will you be okay until I get back?" She nodded.

   I bought Betsy some clothes and rented a couple of videos.  I came back
to find Betsy asleep on her bed and the apartment in a whole lot better
condition than when I left.

   She healed rapidly, more a testament to her youth than my questionable
nursing skills.  After a week or so I called a friend and asked him for a
favor.  I had to wheedle but in the end he agreed to my request.  I told
Betsy I found her a job, and she seemed excited about it.  I took her to my
friend's office the next day.  She was to be the receptionist with light
typing duties when she wasn't answering the phone.  Betsy took to the job
like a cat takes to sunlight through a window.  After a few weeks my friend
called to thank me for sending her his way.

   When Betsy got paid I took her to the bank and showed her how to open an
account.  She glowed when she deposited her very first paycheck.  The
following week, when she made her second deposit, she began pestering me
about paying part of the rent.  I told her to save the money for when she
got an apartment of her own.

   For the next few months we grew comfortable with each other.  We would
watch TV together, go for walks, or just talk.  I looked for signs that
Betsy wanted to move our relationship up a notch, but there was nothing. 
She never said or did anything to make me think she had feelings other than
friendship for me.  I didn't press, not wanting to destroy whatever we had,
and especially not wanting to impose my feelings on her.  If I asked, she
would have done anything, for no other reason than to repay me for things I
had done to help her.  I couldn't accept love that way.

   Betsy came home excited one day.  She had gotten a small raise.  We
celebrated by going out to dinner and Betsy insisted on paying.  She was so
jazzed, it was hard not to be overwhelmed by her enthusiasm.  Betsy was
breathtakingly beautiful in the glow from the candle on our table.  The
meal was excellent and we lingered over coffee, casually making
conversation.

   "So how fat is your bank account these days?" I asked.

   "I have about $1,600 in it now," she said proudly.

   "Wow!  That much.  We probably ought to start looking for an apartment."

   The glow that surrounded her seemed to dissipate into thin air.  "We
probably should," she said softly.

   "Come on, Betsy, pat yourself on the back.  It wasn't so many months ago
you were living on the street.  Soon you'll have an apartment of your own.
You should be proud of how far you've come."

   She looked at me strangely.  "I am." Some of the glow returned but not
all.

   We decided to walk home.  To tell the truth I no longer needed the walk
to sleep.  For some reason having Betsy there made sleep easy.  But I
enjoyed the exercise and usually Betsy joined me.  She grabbed my hand as
we walked.  I attributed it to her excitement.  She never made any sign she
wanted more.

   The next weekend we spent searching for an apartment for Betsy.  She was
difficult to please.  Each one had some fatal flaw she was unwilling to
live with.  "I guess you'll just have to put up with me some more," Betsy
said lightly.

   "Maybe, but we haven't seen them all yet.  Something will catch your
eye."

   The next week was the same, and so was the week after.  She turned down
some really nice apartments I thought were perfect for her.  The third week
she found something she liked.  It was about two blocks from mine in a
building that had been remodeled recently.  I didn't think it was as nice
as some we saw but Betsy raved over it.  I asked the landlord for a few
minutes alone so we could talk over her decision.

   "Are you sure it's what you want?" I asked her.

   "Absolutely, it's close to work and all the things I want to be close
to. I think it's perfect."

   "Betsy, I want to cover the first month's rent and the security deposit
for you."

   "No!  I want to do this on my own."

   "I understand, but you still need to get furniture and stuff.  Please?
Let me help you get started."

   "It's too much, you've done too much already."

   "It's only money, I don't have anything else to spend it on."

   "Only if I can repay you."

   "You don't have to."

   "Then I won't take it."

   "How about if you repay half of it."

   "Three quarters."

   I hung my head resignedly.  "Deal."

   Betsy squealed and wrapped her arms around me.  "Thank you, thank you so
much.  I couldn't have done any of this on my own." She pressed her soft
lips to mine, giving me a kiss full of excitement and happiness.

   "You just needed a hand," I said when she broke the kiss.  "Everything
else was you."

   Betsy called the landlord back in, then signed the lease and wrote the
check while he explained she had seven days to cancel the contract should
she want to back out.  After then he would have to keep her first month's
rent.  She nodded excitedly as she dropped the pen and took the keys from
his outstretched hand.

   Betsy was so excited, almost prancing as we walked back to my place. 
She chattered a mile a minute about all the furnishings she wanted, the
decorating she would do.  It hadn't really sunk in until then that she
would be leaving me soon and I would be alone again.  That night, for the
first time in a long while, I couldn't get to sleep.

   We spent the next few evenings traveling to furniture stores to find the
right items to furnish Betsy's apartment.  She had impeccable taste and a
nose for bargains.  She delighted in negotiating with the salespeople. 
Betsy had never before known the power money could bring.  It was new and
heady to have them pursuing her.  She bought a bedroom suite and a dinette
with the money she had accumulated.  They were to be delivered Friday
morning.

   We were riding home after making her final purchase.  "Howard, would you
come to dinner Friday evening?"

   "Of course."

   "Would it be too much to ask you to dress up for it?"

   "No.  I'll dress up."

   "Thank you, it means a lot to me.  I'll miss living with you, but I
guess it's time for me to be on my own, don't you think?"

   "Yes," I said glumly.

   "What's wrong?"

   "Nothing.  I guess I'm not feeling well."

   Betsy stroked my cheek softly.  "Poor baby.  Who's going to take care of
you when I'm gone?"

   I didn't want her to leave.  I wanted to beg her to stay, to give up her
apartment and live with me forever.  I wanted, God I wanted, but I couldn't
ruin her happiness to satisfy my selfish needs.

   Friday, Betsy took off from work and left my apartment early to meet the
furniture deliverymen.  She took some clothes with her to change into after
she got the apartment the way she wanted it.  She kissed my cheek as she
left.  "Be there at six," she said softly.

   "I will." She nodded and went out the door.

   At six, I knocked on her apartment door, sweating a little in my suit.
Betsy opened the door.  She was stunning.  She was wearing a black dress
cut low enough in the front to offer a tantalizing view of her charms, and
her hair was pinned up in a French braid.  She looked interestingly older,
more mature, vibrant, and I knew then I had made the right choice to help
her get out on her own.  I stood there open mouthed.

   Betsy laughed.  "You like it?" she asked while doing a quick pirouette.

   "You're beautiful." I held out the red rose I had been hiding behind my
back.

   "For me?" She kissed my cheek.  "Thank you, no one ever gave me flowers
before." In rapid succession, she took my hand, pulled me into the room,
shut the door behind me, and seated me in the small dining area.  The
dinette table was set for two, with two long candles burning in the center.
She went to the kitchen and came back carrying our salads.

   "It seems like a dream," Betsy said as she ate, "I can hardly believe
it's for real."

   "It's real, you deserve it," I said as I put down my fork.

   "Thanks.  Finished?" I nodded.  She stood up and collected the plates,
carrying them back into the kitchen.  She returned with dinner.  "I hope
you like veal."

   "I love it."

   "Good," she said, setting the plate in front of me.  She sat down and
waited for me to begin.  Betsy had cooked for us before at my apartment. 
She wasn't a bad cook, but she wouldn't win any awards either.  I wasn't
sure what to expect as I put a piece of veal in my mouth.  It was
delicious, better than anything she had ever cooked before.

   "It's really good," I said.

   Her smile lit up her face.  We ate and talked, enjoying the meal and
each other's company.  It was over much too soon and I couldn't help the
melancholy that descended over me as the time for our parting approached.

   "Howard, I want to tell you how much I love you for all you've done for
me.  I owe you a debt I can never repay."

   "Betsy..."

   "No!  My house, my rules.  Here I can owe you if I want.  You're a
wonderful man, Howard.  You should have someone to love.  Now that I'm out
of your hair, I hope you find her." I had the sinking feeling she was about
to dump me, but she continued, "Lord, what will you think of me, I forgot
the desert.  Do you want coffee?"

   "Please." I was despondent.  What to do, what to do?

   "Okay, I'll be back in a couple of minutes."

   Desert would grant me a reprieve of at most a half-hour.  I had to tell
her, had to let her know I loved her and let the chips fall where they may.
I couldn't bear the thought of losing a chance with her because I wouldn't
say the words.  I closed my eyes and tried to think of the right way to say
what I needed to say.

   I could hear the hustle and bustle of Betsy working in the kitchen, and
soon the distinct aroma of coffee wafted into the room.  She would be back
in a moment and I mentally rehearsed my little speech one last time.

   "Howard, close your eyes, I want this to be a surprise."

   I closed my eyes and heard Betsy come into the room.  "You can open your
eyes now," she said softly.

   "Jesus!" The picture was indelibly burned onto my brain.  I stared at
her naked beauty while Betsy reached up and took the pins out of her hair.
She shook her head, and her brown hair cascaded down across her shoulders,
framing the wonder of her breasts.

   "Coffee is brewed in the kitchen if you want it," she said.  "But maybe
you want something more." Betsy giggled as she moved toward me.  "Somehow
this scene looks familiar, doesn't it, Howard?  I think we've been here
before."

   I had no words to express this moment.  I could only stutter, "Betsy..."

   She placed a finger to my lips.  "My house, my rules.  I get to have my
say, then if you feel like talking you can have yours.  Do you have any
idea how long I've loved you?  You're such a pigheaded man, Howard.  A girl
has to prance nude in front of you to get you to even take notice.  I've
loved you for a long time and I've waited, waited patiently for you to love
me.  I'm tired of waiting, Howard.  Do you love me?  You can talk now."

   "Yes!"

   "Good." She grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet.  "Let's go find
out how much." She led me to the bedroom, then undressed me.  I kicked off
my shoes, stepped out of my clothes.  She wrapped her arms around me, our
bodies melding together while we kissed passionately.

   "I love you," I whispered when we broke our kiss.

   "You could have said it sooner, think of all we missed," she said as she
dropped to her knees in front of me.  Her hands caressed my butt while her
tongue licked at my cock.

   "Oh, God!"

   "Prayer won't help you now," she laughed, then her full soft lips
surrounded my shaft and she slid me into her mouth.  Delicious tingles
traveled all through my body, sweet waves of pleasure consumed me.  Sweat
broke out across my brow, my body shook with desire.  Betsy's mouth slid
slowly up and down my shaft, her tongue seemingly everywhere, finding every
little nerve to heighten my pleasure.  I groaned wordlessly as my cock
erupted in her mouth.  Betsy swallowed my offering, her tongue fluttering
just under the head, coaxing every drop from inside me.  She slid my cock
out of her mouth and smiled up at me.  "I've been dying to do that since
the day I met you.  Back then it would have cost you $20."

   If so, she had seriously under-priced herself.  "Betsy..."

   She stood up.  "Shhh, that's all behind me.  I can laugh about it now."
She offered her lips to mine, my taste lingering there.  Our tongues twined
frantically while my hands caressed her flanks, softly stroked the sides of
her breasts.

   Betsy pulled me to the bed and we climbed onto it.  Lying side by side,
our hands explored each other.  My fingers teased her nipples to full
hardness.  I dipped my head to her breast and sucked one into my mouth.  I
tongued her nipple while she cooed her pleasure, her fingers held my head
to her breast, softly stroking through my hair.  I abandoned Betsy's
nipple, nipping it as it slid from my mouth.  Betsy gasped, then moaned her
desire while I trailed kisses across her stomach, through the soft curls of
her mound.  Her legs spread as I arrived and my tongue slid inside her
folds, savoring her taste and searching for the hard bud of her clit.  My
tongue traveled the length of her slit.  I dimly heard Betsy gasp when I
found it.  Her hips rolled under me while my tongue prodded and stroked at
her center.

   "Oh, God, you can do that forever," she moaned.

   My tongue circled her clit, occasionally flicking at it and sending her
hips into fits of bucking.  Betsy's hands pulled at my head, trying to hold
me to the spot that would take her over.  I teased at her for a few minutes
more, then sucked her clit into my mouth, working it from side to side with
my tongue while she writhed through her orgasm against my face.

   I crawled up and lay on my back beside her, waiting for her to recover.
She rolled up on her side, her hand stroking my chest and playing with the
hair.  "I knew you'd be good." Her fingers slid across my stomach, played
through my pubic hair.  Her hand wrapped softly around my semi-erect cock.
She started stroking it lightly, coaxing it to life.  Her soft hand made my
cock rapidly swell to its full length.

   Betsy straddled my hips, slid backward until the head of my cock nestled
into her hole.  We both groaned as she took me completely inside her
wetness.  My hands cupped her breasts, tweaking her nipples while her hips
rose and fell on top of me.  Her head lolled back, occasionally whipping
from side to side, fanning her hair out around her.  She changed angles,
circled around me, her hips bucking rapidly when she found some position
she liked.  Sweat glistened on her skin as she picked up the pace, ground
against me violently.  She gasped, moaned, collapsed trembling upon me when
she came.

   I was close, so very close.  I bucked my hips up into hers.  Betsy's
teeth clamped into my shoulder, pain burned then turned into pleasure and I
slammed up into her again.  She shrieked and trembled on top of me, my cock
throbbed inside her, spurting and bucking in orgasm.  I clutched her
tightly to me.  We lay there for a while, resting, recovering.

   "Howard," she murmured.

   "Hmmm."

   "You need to get some sleep."

   "Why?"

   "We gotta move furniture tomorrow.  I'm canceling my lease."

   "Gotta place to stay?  I've got a spare room."

   Betsy laughed.
   edited by Ruthie 

	----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------
	This post has been reformatted by ASSTR's
	Smart Text Enhancement Processor (STEP)
	system due to inadequate formatting.
	----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------

	
<1st attachment end>


----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------
Notice: This post has been modified from its original
format.  The post was sent as an email attachment and
has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software.
----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------

-- 
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}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+