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Message-ID: <61219asstr$1309648201@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Uther Pendragon <nogardneprethu@gmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} "Couple - M" -- Uther -- MF pett
Lines: 1241
Date: Sat, 02 Jul 2011 19:10:01 -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


If you are under the age of 18, or otherwise forbidden by law to read
electronically transmitted erotic material, please go do something else.

This material is copyright, 2011, Uther Pendragon. All rights reserved. I
specifically grant the right of downloading and keeping one electronic copy
for your personal reading so long as this notice is included. Reposting
requires previous permission.

If you have any comments or requests, please e-mail them to me at
nogardneprethu@gmail.com.

All persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as public figures
in the background, are figments of my imagination and any resemblance to
persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.


Couple - M
by Uther Pendragon
nogardneprethu@gmail.com

MF pett


Andy Trainor was barely back in Evanston from the University of Illinois
when he decided that Dad was running his life too much. Actually, he'd
decided this several times in the past, but something about the Bicentennial
year made it more urgent. It was time for him to declare his independence,
and church was a good occasion to do so.

"Y'know," he said on their way to church. "I didn't attend in Champaign."

"I didn't know. You never told me." Dad was probably trying to evade the
question. He had never asked, which meant that he had probably had a good
idea.

"Well, I didn't. Don't you think attending up here reeks of hypocrisy? It's
not Andy attending; it's Jim Trainor dragging his son along with him."

"That's an awfully harsh way of expressing it. I haven't dragged you since
you were eight. Do you remember me picking you up, carrying you into Sunday
School, and setting you in a chair?" He did, and it made him blush even yet.

"Well, I'm not eight any more."

"My point exactly. Now, obviously, you've decided to come today. And, after
all, this church is a good deal of your connection to the community." By
now, they'd parked, but Dad made no move to get out of the car. "You're
still going to work for Mr. Schmidt, and you met him here."

"The work isn't my idea."

"And didn't you meet Marilyn at MYF?" That was a point for Dad. Rebelling
was all very well, but what if Marilyn expected to see him in church?

She did see him, and he saw her, but they didn't speak. Was that worth
getting up in the morning and putting on a suit? Actually, it was, but there
were better ways of seeing her. When he got his job schedule Monday, he had
Saturday off this week. As a summer worker at the hardware store, he
replaced guys on vacation. Which meant he worked whatever hours the guy he
was replacing had.

Tuesday, he called up Marilyn, and they set a date for Saturday night. He
worried that Dad would insist on church attendance as a condition of
borrowing the car, but he didn't. He got to Marilyn's house a little early.

"Is Marilyn here?" he asked. Silly question, but he had to say something.

"One more minute." That was Marilyn calling from some other part of the
house.

"Come in," said a man who had to be Marilyn's father. "I think we should
establish some guidelines." Well, he'd gone through this before. It was a
little silly for a girl who'd spent most of last year at the U of I campus a
couple hundred miles to the south. Still, he'd answer the questions. It was
easier to do so, and he felt better about the standard paternal rules than
about the grilling Marilyn's sorority sisters had put him through.

"You want guidelines, I'll give you some." Marilyn shouted from upstairs.
"One: I am fucking-well an adult. Two: I choose my own friends." She was
right there in the room with them, but still shouting.  "Three: I decide my
own rules. Four: I decide my own hours. Five: *Butt out!*"

"Come on, Andy," she said and swept out the door. He caught up with her
before she reached the car -- his legs were a lot longer. When she settled
in the passenger side, he walked around and got in. He drove off towards the
movie. He understood intellectually that she wasn't mad at him, but an angry
Marilyn was still a worry. At her request, he stopped where she could put on
her lipstick.

"You know, your father loves you," he began. "It worries me to see you so
mad at somebody who loves you. Will that happen to me?"

"Well, if you still love me fifteen years from now, love that Marilyn. He
treats me like I was five." She was exaggerating.

"Sixteen, maybe. Look, I've got Kleenex in the back. Want some?"

"S'okay. I've got some here." And, when she'd used it, he adjusted the
mirror back where he needed it and turned off the dome light. He drove to
the theater. When he first put his arm around her shoulder, it was so tense
he was afraid she'd shake him off. Slowly, though, as she got involved in
the movie, she relaxed.

Afterwards, he was tempted to suggest the back seat. Her time with him was a
declaration of independence from her father -- how independent did she want
to be? Still, he was afraid of pushing her. She'd said no to him before, and
she might be readier to say no to him in this mood. He wanted her, on
whatever terms were available, and he was always afraid that she would
decide no terms were available if he pushed too far. Still, in the front
seat and fully dressed, she responded passionately to his kiss.

"Marilyn," he said. She was special, and her responses were special. He
could feel the softness and shapeliness of her breast through blouse and
bra. She did not push him away, and -- when he left her mouth to kiss all
over her sweet face -- she pulled him back into a deep kiss.

Finally, afraid she would demand to be taken home if he didn't, he pulled
back to drive her home. He backed into the driveway again to get her closer
to the door. She waited for him to come around, help her out, and escort her
to her porch. Standing on a step that put their heads on a level, he shared
one more kiss with her. If less passionate than the ones they'd had in
privacy, it was just as sweet. He waited until he was shielded by the open
car door to adjust his pants.

Even though the tank was more than half full, he bought gas on hie way back.
Dad would have enough to complain about, and he wasn't going to provide him
any more. Marilyn's argument with her family was a continuing worry. He was
on her side, would have been even if he hadn't been the subject of the
fight. But, he'd been in enough fights with Dad to know that Marilyn's fight
would end sometime. And he didn't want to be what she gave up in the
compromise. Well, he had been perfectly willing to answer Mr. Grant's
questions tonight. Maybe he could answer them tomorrow in a way that didn't
offend Marilyn.

Dad made no comment that he was ready for church after having said that he
wouldn't go. They sat together, and Marilyn, whatever her arguments the
previous night, sat with her parents. He and Dad got through the line before
the Grants, and he stayed behind to see them. Dad walked down the steps but
waited on the sidewalk.

"Mr. Grant. I'm Andy Trainor," he said when Marilyn and her parents had gone
through the line. Mr. Grant sort of acknowledged that he knew who he was.

"There were really two questions," he began. He'd planned this out so he
stayed on Marilyn's side while satisfying her father. "Is Marilyn an adult
capable of judging her associates and free to decide upon her friends? And
am I a serial killer stalking your daughter for my next victim? Well, the
first question being decided in the affirmative, I don't at all mind setting
your mind at ease with respect to the second. After all, I'm only one of
several men Marilyn dated at U of I. I'm likely to be the only one of them
you'll ever meet."

"Well," Mr. Grant asked, "then who are you?"

"I'm Andy Trainor, a member of this church. Once upon a time, I was a member
of the MYF chapter that Marilyn led. I'm an Electrical Engineering student
at the U of I. What more do you want to know?"

"What fraternity do you belong to?"

"I don't belong to any. I live in a dorm, and never tried to pledge."

"Don't you think," Marilyn's father asked, "you're missing out on part of
college life?" What in *hell* did that have to do with his respectability as
a date for Marilyn? Even the sorority girls hadn't pushed that hard, and
they were -- after all -- the people wh had just made that decision.

"Well, what I want out of college is to be trained for the career I've
chosen. I don't see how being paddled will prepare me for that career." He
was working to keep it light, but it was work.

"Do you think that becoming an engineer is really being educated?" Now her
dad was on another attack. It was, however, an argument he'd had before.

"A college education, most certainly. That is the advantage of passing a
college course. You know that you've absorbed all that the powers that be
consider part of that section of knowledge." When you read a book, though,
you might have learned a great deal, but you never knew that you'd learned
the required details.

"But that 'section of knowledge' isn't something that everybody has to
know."

"That's certainly true. It is, however, something that *somebody* has to
know. We don't all have to know brain surgery, but it's damn convenient to
have some brain surgeons around."

"Now take History," he continued. That was a particular which he'd thought
out before. "I passed the general American History course. I could take
another course in the history of the Civil War. But, if I did that, I'd have
to learn all about the War in the east. I happen to be interested in the War
in the west -- it was mostly east of the Mississippi, but contemporaries
considered anything west of the Alleghenies as west." He was riding his
hobby horse, now. It wasn't what he needed to say to this man this day.

"Anyway... Anyway, I can read books to learn lots and lots about what
interests me. Since I don't want to teach History, I don't need to learn the
other stuff. Marilyn is different. She can't go into the classroom and tell
her students, 'Short stories bore me; we're only going to study poetry.'
But, if somebody just wants to read, he can read only poetry, or only
novels, or only detective stories. Well

"That man isn't educated, reading only detective stories." Since he'd
mentioned his own interest in Civil-War history and not his interest in SF,
this was quite beside the point. Well, if he wanted that, he could swallow
another example which might not be so satisfactory to him.

"And, is a man in the 20th century really educated who doesn't know the
theory of special relativity?"

"Come on, Andy," Marilyn said suddenly. She grabbed his arm and pulled him
down the stairs. "You're walking me home." More accurately, she was hauling
him away, but he was willing to go where this woman wanted him to go.

"Walk briskly and don't talk," she whispered. "Okay," she said a little
later, "you can slow down a little."

"Well," he told her, "you know how I feel. And starting on fraternities
before going on to the purity of a liberal education!" Either was an
argument, if a faulty one. Both together sounded silly.

"He was trying to find something wrong with you," she said. "If you'd been a
member of some rival frat, he'd have dug into you for that. Really, Mom
always talks about her sorority life. Dad doesn't harp on his frat
background when he isn't pawing the ground."

"I tried to be friendly."

"And so you did." She took his hand in hers. He looked at the street. On the
square grid, there were a dozen ways to walk from the church to her house.
He noticed that they weren't on any of them. They had, in fact, walked north
while her house was south. At the next corner, they turned west -- which
with some blocks going south would get her home. Well, he enjoyed walking
with her; he didn't care if they weren't taking the most direct route.

Meandering or not, their route finally got to her front porch. While she was
standing on it, he stopped with their heads level. Even if this hadn't been
a date, maybe he could get a good-bye kiss.

"No," she whispered. "Come up here and lift me -- high." When he obeyed, she
clung to his neck with her arms and his waist with her legs. The
fit-for-church dress rode halfway up her thighs in this position. He didn't
spend any time looking, though, since she immediately gave him a long, wet
kiss. his hands were on her butt under her skirt.

"I love you," she said when she finally slid sown his length. This was the
first time she'd said it before he did. His suit coat hid his erection, the
first use that he'd ever noticed for that article of clothing.

"I love you, too, but I don't understand you." He understood enough to
suspect that the arousing kiss -- as arousing as anything they'd ever
concealed in the grove of trees near her sorority house -- was less her
expression of interest in him than her expression of independence from her
family.

"I didn't know when you'd get back," Dad said when he'd walked home. "I
ordered pizza." They usually went to a restaurant after church, but pizza
was fine with him. Dad was already in a plaid shirt, and he went upstairs to
change. He came down in his (white for church underwear) t-shirt. They ate
sitting across from each other in the kitchen. Dad had got out plates, but
neither used silverware -- pizza was hand-food.

"You're the logician of the family," Dad said when he'd finished. Andy was
still nibbling his last piece. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'd think that
walking your girl home from church requires attending church." He thought
about that for an instant.

"Easter Parade," he said. That should remind Dad of one of his betes noires.
The people in the New York Easter Parade had once worn their finery to
church and then paraded after service. These days, they merely rendezvoused
at the church and paraded without attending any service on the most holy day
of the Christian year.

"Point. Will that particular girl accept that?" Which was a point to Dad.
But, really, there was no reason to believe that Marilyn would welcome his
walking her home even if he attended services. She had a ride, after all, in
her family car. And she always wore heels, which couldn't make walking fun.

"Maybe not, but I don't think I'll attend or try to walk her home."

"When your sisters are here."

"Okay." When the girls were here, they'd do what they could together, and
sitting together in church was certainly one of those things.

"How about communion?" Dad was still bargaining. "After all, that's only one
more Sunday before the girls come. You've already agreed to the first Sunday
in August."

"I'll try." Not that Dad wouldn't make sure that he was awake. But the old
man hadn't used any of the support he was already giving him as a bargaining
chip. He should get something. The truth was that Andy cared more for the
independence of refusing than he disliked the services. And Marilyn would
probably be there.

Dad lent him a biography of Lee, and he took it out in the back yard to get
a tan. Rather than Lee's life, though, his thoughts concentrated on his own.
After some disappointments his freshman year in high school, he'd only asked
out the girls who wouldn't have had dates otherwise. Especially after he got
his driver's license, he was a better choice than that. He'd gone from
kissing them in the front seat of the car to kissing them in the back seat
to -- in his junior year -- kissing them in the back seat while fondling
their breasts.

He'd been helped a little by the fact that girls talked among themselves --
and, as far as  he could figure out -- honestly. There were some things that
good girls didn't do, and nobody did them for Andy Trainor. There were some
things everybody but dry sticks did, and being Andy's date was bad enough
without being a dry stick.

Marilyn was different. He was far from her only date possibility, not even
her only date. Besides, while he hadn't worried all that much about girls'
turning him down. He worried deeply about Marilyn's abandoning him. And
they'd broken the high-school sequence. He'd fondled her breasts before
they'd got to the back seat, even before she'd ridden in his car. He wanted
more from Marilyn, but his desire for keeping what he had was even stronger.
Well, maybe he'd invite her into the back seat on their date Thursday. He
turned so that his erection wasn't visible from the house and tried to get
interested in Lee.

His day off that next week was Friday, and he had a date with Marilyn for
Thursday night. He thought a date the night before might be better than one
the evening after. That way, he could stay up as late as he needed to. When
he sat across from Dad for breakfast, the old man scowled at him.

"You forgot to shave," he said.

"I have a date tonight. I'll shave for that."

"You have a job meeting the public today. You'll shave for that." Well, he
never shaved or even showered for class before date nights. But he obeyed.
He showered and shaved again before the date, though.

He dressed as he usually did for movie dates with Marilyn, a white shirt and
khakis. It was his only use for khakis at school. Last week, Marilyn had
gone back to jeans. Tonight, though, she came down in jeans and a
sweatshirt. That looked a little casual to him, but maybe she felt it made
her look more obviously a college student. He sure wasn't going to complain.


When they parked after the movie, he kissed her deeply. When his hand
reached her breast, he felt a new softness. His cock lurched in his
trousers.

"Oh, Marilyn!" he said. She pulled his hand away. Then he realized she'd
pulled it to the edge of her sweatshirt. He eased inside slowly enough that
she could stop him if she felt he was trespassing. His hand glided over her
skin to cup a soft, bare breast. "Oh Marilyn." He was repeating himself, but
she was a source of marvels. They went back to their kiss while he explored
her smoothness, her softness, the firmness of her breasts, the
responsiveness of her nipples.

He loved her, loved her generosity. He alternated deep kisses with light
kisses over all of her that his mouth could reach. Meanwhile, his hand was
never still. He would have stayed exploring that paradise until dawn if she
hadn't interrupted him.

"Um, Andy, could you get me home?"

"Sure." He checked the time. It was after 1:00! "Oops! I think we took
longer than I'd expected. You'll be late. Sorry. I was enjoying myself too
much." Which was the understatement of the century. He had been glorying her
soft flesh.

"Well, I was enjoying myself, too," She said, but she seemed in an awful
hurry to end the evening. They had a brief kiss at her front door.

"Good night, Marilyn," he said. "I love you."

"Love you, too." But she hurried inside.

He crashed when he got home. He woke in time for breakfast, but went back to
bed when Mrs. Bryant came. She woke him for lunch. It tasted good, but she
was no longer treating him to welcome-home feasts. He called Marilyn after
lunch, but she was at the beach.

Sunday, he slept in. Since that meant he had to get his own breakfast of
corn flakes, the advantage wasn't great.

Wednesday, his grades came. He'd passed Phys Ed with a C, but he'd got an A
in every other course. At dinner, Dad gave him an electric razor.

"Call it an early birthday present. It's not timed right for a bonus for the
excellent grades. It won't get you as smooth as a blade will, but it feels
much more pleasant when you shave more than once a day."

So he used it before work, and used the safety razor before dates. The dates
were even better than the ones at school. Marilyn didn't make the slightest
objection when he unbuttoned her blouse. She leaned forward to help when he
unsnapped her bra. And she was delightfully smooth and soft. They still
spent their time in the front seat, which was a little uncomfortable for
him, but, somehow, the time to suggest moving to the back seat had passed.
And the experience was so delightful that he was afraid of risking what he
had to get so little more.

He finished the Lee biography and returned it to Dad one night at dinner.

"Decided the eastern theater was interesting after all?" Dad asked.

"History prof said I'd misunderstood the motives for going north to
Gettysburg."

"And, of course, nobody had a motive for Gettysburg, neither Lee nor Meade.
'The other guy is here, and we can't let him go, se we fight here.' But,
yes, Lee spent most of the war wanting to go north. The military advantages
and disadvantages were probably clearer to him than to us. He was convinced
that a *decisive* victory on northern soil would change the political shape
of the war. The north would decide that keeping the union was too expensive
and the British and French might decide to join in."

"And was he right?"

"The northern opinion is the great unknown. But, although Lee might have
been a tactical genius, nobody ever claimed he was a great politician.
Europe was a lost cause after the Emancipation Proclamation. The worse
problem lies in the words 'decisive victory'" Yeah, Dad had emphasized that.
Well, he'd play along.

"How so?"

"Very few victories in history have been all that decisive. Omit sieges, and
there are even fewer. Lee had sent the Army of the Potomac running away with
its tail between its legs frequently, but he'd never destroyed it. And,
really, what he meant by a decisive victory was destroying the Army of the
Potomac. Then he'd be loose in Pennsylvania with nobody but home guards to
oppose him. Would the north panic? Would the panic have led to surrender, or
would it have led to a convulsive recruiting drive? All these questions are
unanswerable, but the first unanswered question is how one wins a decisive
victory against an army a little larger than your own."

"So he was dreaming?"

"Not really. I played bridge for a while." Now, if irrelevant, that was
something he'd never known about his father. "One of the things you learn is
that if you're going to lose the hand if your opponents have one
distribution of cards, play as though they had the other distribution. The
Confederacy was going to lose if the north didn't give up. So Lee tried to
play a card which *might* make them give up."

"So you're saying the Civil War was won in the east, after all."

"I'm saying that, if you keep the Union perspective, it was not lost in the
east -- and it might have been. If, if, if, but it *might* have been. When
that didn't happen, the Confederacy went back to holding on and hoping that
the Union would get tired."

"Meanwhile, the battles in the west carved the Confederacy up."

"Oh, yes," Dad admitted. "The issue which was settled at Gettysburg was that
the Confederacy wouldn't win. They hadn't lost yet by any means.

"You sure," Dad asked suddenly, "that you don't want to change your major."

"Oh, no.... Or rather, I'm sure. I want to be an EE. After all, you aren't a
history professor." Although, really, the old man would be a good one.
"You're a banker."

"Well, what were we doing? We were playing loan officer. That's what modern
history is. You know what happened. Ancient history can be different --
Smith says this and Jones says that; who do we believe? But we know what
happened in 1863. The issue is what *could* have happened but didn't. A loan
officer would say, 'Your plan to crush the Army of the Potomac is all very
fine, General Lee. But what happens if you don't? What happens if -- after
you do --  Lincoln raises another army to oppose you when you're stuck at
the end of a long supply line in hostile territory? How am I sure we'll get
our investment back?' The only difference is that we know what happened when
he didn't crush Meade. We ask what would have happened if he did."

"You think generals should go to loan officers to finance their campaigns?"
Dad's idea suggested some hilarious scenarios.

"Would kill some stupid campaigns if they did. On the other hand, some
absolutely idiotic business plans get financed every day. Loan officers are
no more perfect than any other profession. It's just a way of thinking --
what if?"

That was a pleasant-enough dinner conversation, but it raised less pleasant
thoughts that night. Marilyn found him a convenient date. She even called
him her boyfriend. What if he pressed her too far? What if she got bored?
What if she met a boy she really liked in one of her classes next semester?
What if her steady from last year made a play for her again? What if he made
a horrendous gaffe? He knew he made gaffes; social life was a greater
mystery than what some general could have done differently. What if she made
peace with her family, and that peace involved not seeing him?

He spoke with her on the phone fairly often, but he was a hardware clerk
these days, and a quite junior one. When they'd studied together, he had
presented his best side. He was a good student -- an expert in learning from
books. But she wasn't interested in learning from books during vacation. She
spent her time at the beach, without him, not that was the sort of place he
shown.

The next Sunday was the Fourth of July. As he'd agreed, he celebrated the
country's independence by surrendering his own to his father. They went to
church. The sermon was boring, but the Pierce twins were diverting. They
were two pews ahead of him and as bored as he was. Mr. Pierce had given them
some crayons and pictures to color, and they kept showing them to each other
across his lap. When he and Dad went down for communion, the kids blocked
the way. Mr. Pierce and the twins were filing into a front pew on the side,
and the toddlers took a little time doing so.

"Sorry," said Mr. Pierce.

"No problem," said Dad. And there wasn't a problem. There was, however, a
puzzle. Why were the Pierces going into a pew? They'd started down for
communion, silly if Mr. Pierce wasn't going to partake. After And had eaten
his bread soaked in grape juice and returned to his pew, he looked for them
in the front pew. By now, they were approaching the communion rail. Of
course! Mrs. Pierce, in her choir robe, knelt to one side of the standing
boys and Mr. Pierce knelt on the other. He'd waited for her. They were a
couple, and took communion together.

The restaurant Dad had selected for dinner was crowded -- it was the Fourth,
after all. Still the food was good. Lying out in the yard afterwards to let
the meal digest, he found himself feeling jealous of Mr. Pierce. He didn't
want to take communion beside Mrs. Pierce, and certainly not while
restraining the twins. He did, however, want to take communion kneeling
beside his woman. He wanted people to say that they were a couple and that
being a couple justified their disrupting the smooth flow of traffic towards
the communion rail. Not that he and Marilyn would disrupt it much.

But he'd lost his chance, even if she'd agree. There was only one more first
Sunday before they went back to campus, and that Sunday the girls would be
here. He'd promised. Besides, the Grants sat forward of where the Trainors
sat. It was one thing to sit down and wait for your wife to come down; it
was another thing to break forward to join your girlfriend. And, if people
noticed -- much less if an usher spoke to him -- Marilyn might be
embarrassed. He'd need her prior consent. It would be easier fo arrange for
her to wait for him, but that -- delightful as the symbol would be -- wasn't
something he was prepared to ask of her.

Then he rolled over and laughed at himself. If he was going to ask her for
anything, why wait for the next communion. They could sit together next
Sunday; he could at least ask. And, since she seemed to be still fighting
with her parents, she might be pleased to sit with somebody else.

He worked late Monday, but got off in time for a late supper at home
Tuesday. Afterwards, he called Marilyn. He enjoyed just hearing her voice,
and she described her day at the beach -- one place he hadn't thought of
where she might meet a guy she would prefer to him.

"Look," he said when she sounded like she had finished,"you still go to
church don't you?"

"Up here." Well, he'd meant up here.

"Well, what would your parents think if we sat together?" Which wasn't quite
what he meant, but it allowed her a gracious out, at least.

"Sounds good." She had agreed, and she was certainly conscious of its being
a public statement.

"I'll be waiting for you," he said. And he'd keep that promise. They didn't
even discuss their plans for Sunday on their date Wednesday. Maybe she
wanted to keep the times his hands caressed and his lips kissed her shapely
breasts from the times she sat looking so virtuous in church.

Dad merely gave him the egg and started another when he came down for
breakfast Sunday. If Andy had inherited anything from Mom, it wasn't the
effortless way she had of cracking Dad's control.

"I need to be in church early," he told Dad. "Do you want to start early or
should I walk?"

"Leave at 10:40 early enough?" He nodded. Dad dropped the car keys on the
table. "If I'm not down here when that clock ..." he gestured at the kitchen
clock "... says 10:40, take the car and I'll do the walking." Of course, Dad
was holding the keys before the clock said 10:40, but he was ready to go.
When they got to church, Dad went to sit down in their usual place without
looking at him. Having to stand around while people came in, he helped hand
out bulletins. Mr. Hagopian was the official greeter, but he asked no more
questions than Dad had. Andy kept two bulletins in his hand.

When Marilyn came in, she went directly to him while her parents were taking
the bulletins from Mr. Hagopian. He took her elbow and helped her into a pew
on the right-hand side. Both families usually sat on the left. He'd brought
it off. *They* had brought it off. He couldn't think about what Rev.
Lawrence was saying. He was too conscious of Marilyn, sexy Marilyn sitting
beside him so close their thighs touched.

When the service was over, her parents walked around the front and up the
aisle not quite shoving people aside. Members were used enough to people
needing to get somewhere or reach somebody that they hardly noticed. He and
Marilyn stood in their places until her parents came up. He could walk her
home; he was sure that Dad would give her a ride, if he was asked. Mr. Grant
gave him a glare when he got within range. It was a most unchristian glare
for church, but he was afraid that his answering look was a most unchristian
smirk, though he tried to control it. When they got there, Marilyn went with
them, and they didn't even pause to shake Rev. Lawrence's hand.

He shook the minister's hand, however, right after Dad did. He left the
comment on the sermon to Dad, which was his usual behavior. This time, he
couldn't have told you whether the text was from the Old Testament or from
the New.

The guy he was replacing had worked split shifts. Mr. Schmidt had
apologized. Andy, as the senior summer guy, deserved the better hours.

"Don't worry," he'd said. I have only a few blocks to walk." Actually, split
shifts were fine. He could call Marilyn at noon; her dad wasn't home, and
she was awake and hadn't yet gone to the beach. Monday, she had a surprise
question.

"Did your grades come? Mom wants to know how you did in History and English.
Did you get A s?"

"Sure. You were great for me. Studying with you was quite helpful. I found
it more pleasant than helpful I'll admit, but it *was* helpful."

"And what of your other courses?" she continued.

"Also A s. C in Phys-Ed, but the rest A s. But English and History were what
had me worried. Calc and Physics were my subjects." They set a date for
Friday night. That was the trouble with split shifts -- you got out too late
to date on a work night, but went to work uncomfortably early on work
mornings if you dated the night before. He figured he could crash Saturday
afternoon.

That date was fine, but Marilyn knew his schedule. She called it an evening
earlier than usual.

Sunday, while they were sitting together, Rev. Lawrence was saying something
about loving your neighbor. Andy was loving his neighbor quite devotedly,
especially since he could feel her sweet hip and thigh against his.
Suddenly, there was the sound of rain against the windows. By the time they
got out, it was coming down in buckets on the 18th of fucking July. He took
off his suit coat and wrapped it around Marilyn as they stood looking out.

"You can't," she said. "How will I get it back to you?" Well, the next date
would be fine. A special trip to her house to meet her would be even better.

"Look," Dad said suddenly from in back of them, "it's more practical than
dropping it in a puddle. Why don't I get the car, and we can give you a ride
home?"  He ran out in the rain. Well, he'd get to ride home with Marilyn.
Who cared about getting wet? He could dry off. Since they'd come early
again, the car was parked close. Dad got it there quite quickly and honked.

He pulled her hand while heading down the stairs, and she came along. The
passenger side door swung open as they neared it.

"She's in front," Dad said. "You're in back." So he helped her in and got in
the back. Both in back would have been better, but Dad was playing chaperone
and it was right after church.

"Jim Trainor," Dad said to Marilyn, offering his hand to shake. She took it.

"Marilyn Grant."

"May I call you Marilyn?"

"Sure," Marilyn said.

"Then call me Jim." Dad said driving away "You know, we're natural allies."

"How so?"

"I wanted Andy to go to church. Andy wanted to sit beside you. Now, Andy is
sitting beside you in church. I can't imagine that he pays all that much
attention to the sermon." Dad was ignoring him. Worse, he was making time
with his girl.

"Hey. I'm back here, you know. Don't ignore me."

"But you sing the hymns, don't you?" Dad asked, ignoring him as if he'd not
spoken, not even been in the car.

"Yeah."

"Then he pays attention to the hymns. He might, as a byproduct, hear the
words, too. Anyway, I have a favor to ask of you."

"Sure," Marilyn responded. Sweet girl, but she should be sweet to him. Being
sweet to Dad was dangerous.

"Don't agree until you've heard the request," he warned her. "Bad
negotiating tactics." She wasn't paying all that much more attention to him
than Dad was.

"As he might have told you, I'm divorced." He'd told Marilyn some of his
family situation, but he damn-well hadn't described it as centered on Dad as
the egotist thought he should have. "I have two daughters who are coming to
town soon. They'll be here for three weeks, the next three Sundays. I would
certainly appreciate it if the two of you would sit with us those three
Sundays. I like to pretend that I still have a whole family." Dad stopped
the car -- stopped it in their driveway. Wasn't he going to take Marilyn
home?

"Well..." At least she wasn't agreeing. He struggled to see what was wrong
with that request.

"You don't want to agree until you have his consent. That's understandable,
although I'll guarantee that he will sit where you decide. That's fine. He
can give me the answer. And, now, here's where I get out. Come into the
house, Andy and get an umbrella." So he followed him into the house like a
little boy and brought the umbrella back out. He got into the driver's seat.

"What's so bad about what he asked?" Marilyn asked when he was settled and
had started the car.

"Nothing particularly bad. But he gets his way, and all you get is a ride
home." He wanted to see what trick the manipulative bastard was pulling, but
he couldn't see anything wrong.

"Is sitting with them such a strain on you?"

"No," he told her. "As a matter of fact, I like to pretend we're one family,
too." He was nearly to her house. A short walk if it hadn't been raining.

"Then let's do it." Well she was deciding for both of them. That made them a
couple, and their being a couple was worth giving the old man what he
wanted. Still...

"Still, you should get something for it. Well," he conceded, "he's
manipulative as hell, but he's fair sometimes, too. Give him this, and he'll
owe you."

"Not owe you?"

"He pays my tuition. As he's pointed out several times, he still has a
credit balance with me. Well, wait there a moment, and I'll come around."
He'd backed in to her driveway, as usual, so she'd be closer to the door.
She still needed the umbrella. She gave him a warm, if not demonstrative,
kiss and his coat back. He held it until she closed the door behind her.

He went inside rather than honking for Dad. He left his suit coat in the
downstairs closet to dry and used the bathroom before leaving.

"She said yes," he told Dad in the car. "You owe her, you know."

"Oh, I suppose so, though I could claim that having raised you contributed
something to her." As if she'd agree to that. He was having enough trouble
getting her to like him on a current basis. "Anyway, granting that I owe
her, you also owe me."

"What makes you say that?" He had a long-term debt, but Dad didn't often
bring it up unless he was resisting some claim of Andy's.

"You'd agreed to sit with the girls for three Sundays, and you'd agreed to
sit with Marilyn. Now you can do both without *you* having to get her
agreement." Dad was right, if arrogant about being right.

Well, Marilyn was committed to sitting with them the next three Sundays,
which means she was committed to sitting with him. It was the best context
he could imagine for taking one more step. He didn't see how she could agree
to let him feel her marvelous breasts and refuse to let him do it in the
back seat, but, if she did, she couldn't freeze him out of everything.

"At the risk of using a cliche'," he asked that Tuesday after the movie, "do
you want -- are you willing -- to move to the back seat?" She seemed to take
the longest time thinking about this. He couldn't be the first boy she'd sat
in the back seat with. She must be weighing how much she liked him. She
finally reached for the door handle.

"Sure." She was in the back seat before he was. When he'd unbuttoned her
blouse, he wanted even more access.

"Duck," he warned her before lifting her onto his lap facing away. With her
bra undone, he could stroke her marvelous breasts and kiss all along her
neck from her ears to her shoulders. She was enough higher that these kisses
involved less bending, which made them even more enjoyable. She shivered to
one combination of tongue behind her ear and fingers on both nipples. He put
that into a mental file of caresses that made her shiver.

 "Oh, Marilyn."

"Me," she complained. He was kissing her, but she couldn't kiss him.

"Okay," he said, "but watch your head." He let her go.

She turned around on his lap, getting a leg to either side of him. They had
a lovely kiss while she settled against him. Unfortunately, she was pressing
into his erection. It felt sexy as hell, but she might detect it. She didn't
complain if she did. He held a breast in each hand while his thumbs felt her
firm nipples.

"Oh, Marilyn." She was responding to him. He leaned her back as far as she
could go and kissed her breasts. He kissed between them while holding them
against his face. His lips traveled over one breast to the nipple and then
over the other. When he began to suck on that nipple, she began to writhe.
It was the sexiest response he could possibly imagine, and even sexier as
she writhed against his erection. He couldn't stand that for long, however.

"Marilyn," he warned her. She didn't understand the warning. Even when he
abandoned her breasts, she kept writhing. He couldn't see what she was
responding to, but he was certainly responding to her.

"Marilyn," he said again as he exploded. He gripped her shoulders as he
pulsed against her. He flooded his jeans. When he was spent and let go, she
rubbed her shoulders. Had he hurt her?

"Did I hurt you?"

"Well, yes," she said.

"I'm sorry. I never want to hurt you."

"It's not really your fault," she said. But it had really been his fault.
She hadn't known what she was doing, and he'd certainly known what was
coming. He should have got his hands off her. "Just kiss me again," she
said. So he kissed the shoulders he had hurt and then her warm, forgiving
mouth.

They went on kissing, but he was conscious of his soaked pants the entire
time. It must not have been as obvious as he feared, though, since she
didn't seem to notice. She even agreed to a second date that week on Friday.
He was frightened that she would notice his wet crotch when he kissed her on
her porch, but she looked into his eyes instead. He took a robe and slippers
into the bathroom with him when he got home. The briefs were filled with the
stuff, but the jeans didn't look too bad. He rinsed them both off under the
faucet. He took a brief shower, soaping his crotch and rinsing it off as
well as he could direct the water from the shower. He soaked his briefs,
wrung them out, and soaked them again. Finally, he hung both jeans and
briefs in the back of the closet. He wouldn't put them in the wash until
they were thoroughly dry.

Wednesday was an eight-to-eight day, but he got through it. By Friday, he
was anxious to see Marilyn again. When they parked, she got into the back
immediately. He wondered how to keep her off his cock, which was already
erect in anticipation. He needn't have worried. She knelt on the seat with
her legs to either side of him. She was so small, and his hips and thighs so
large, that she wasn't far up his legs, but she was far enough. And, to make
things even better, her breasts were easier to reach with his mouth. They
almost glowed in the dark car.

He teased himself, maybe both of them, by kissing between her breasts and
then over all the smoothness of both. Finally, though, he got to the nipples
which were already pointing up towards his mouth. He licked one, kissed it,
sucked it. She began writhing again, and he enjoyed her luscious butt
rubbing across his legs. But it was his legs that were being rubbed. He left
the one nipple to kiss along a path to the other. She ended the evening
early, but she did it with a reminder that he had an eight-to-eight day on
Saturday.

He got through Saturday, if not happily. When he got home, the girls were
watching TV with Dad. He greeted them, ate some leftovers in the kitchen,
and came back to watch the end of the show. Dad turned off the set.

"Tomorrow is another day," he said. "Let's get some rest."

"Do you want to ride upstairs?" he asked April.

"I'm too big to have a story read to me."

"Look, you go to sleep without anybody reading to you 364 nights a year. You
have for a decade. Nobody doubts you can. But I enjoy playing that you're my
Moppet. On one night a year, I enjoy carrying you up and reading to you. The
question isn't whether you need that. The question is whether you enjoy it
like I do."

"Really?"

"Really. And if you don't want to do it this trip, you don't have to. On the
other hand, if you don't do it this trip, I'll still want to do it the next
trip." At this The Moppet held up her arms. He carried her upstairs. She
went into the bathroom herself and came out with her teeth brushed as well
as the other things she'd done in there. He read her the story that they
always used. "Sleep tight, sweetheart," he said.

Sunday, they all waited at the back of the church until Marilyn came in. Her
parents glared at him but didn't say anything in front of his family. The
girls and Marilyn got acquainted, and then they all sat down. The order,
from left to right, was Molly, Dad, April, Andy, Marilyn. Marilyn, perhaps
intimidated by the family sat withe a space between them. It wasn't a
hostile shunning, not even an inch, but their legs didn't touch. The Moppet
did sit so that she was touching him. When he didn't need his hands for
bulletin or hymnal, he sat withe an arm behind each of them. They paused
behind the middle pews so that the crowd could flow out around them while
they talked some more.

"Thank you very much, Marilyn," Dad said when he saw Marilyn's parents
coming. "Would you like to join us for dinner after services next week?"

"I'd be pleased," she answered

"What you're wearing now would look quite fine in the restaurant, but it
would be perhaps on the less formal end of what women would be wearing." Had
Dad stepped in it? One only said nice things about what girls were wearing.

"Thanks again," said Marilyn. Those two got along better than he did with
either.

"I like her," The Moppet said on their way to the restaurant.

"So do I."

"You do?" asked Molly sarcastically. "I couldn't tell." Well, he'd never
tried to hide it.

The next Sunday, Marilyn was dressed like she'd been dressed for her party
at the sorority. They sat as they had the first Sunday, but left directly
after the service. Rev. Lawrence didn't appear to notice that Marilyn was
with his family instead of hers. He didn't know whether preachers played
poker, but he'd like to see Rev. Lawrence play against Dad.

Molly rode in the front seat with Dad and he took the middle of the back
seat between April and Marilyn. At Manfredo's, Dad reversed the order in
which they'd sat in church. That put Marilyn on his left. Since it was a
round table, that put Molly on Marilyn's left.

"Did you like what you had last year?" Dad asked April.

"Yeah." Dad ordered it for her. He'd like to order for Marilyn, but she
seeming quite comfortable with the menu, ordered the swordfish. He got the
Boeuf Bourguignonne, Molly took the lobster, as usual. It was the most
expensive meal on the menu, which he suspected was why she took it. Molly
looked at Marilyn enviously.

"You look like a woman. I look like a girl." Marilyn did seem to fit right
into Manfredo's ambience.

"Not really," Marilyn answered seriously. "You look like a teenager. You are
one. In twenty years, you'll be trying to look like one."

"Is that true? Do women start wanting to look younger? Have you reached that
stage yet?"

"Not really. I was a freshman in college. I wanted to be a senior. And, of
course, with my height I sometimes get taken for a much younger girl." Molly
didn't seem to know what to do with that answer.

"I'll never be as tall as Molly," April said. Had the turd hinted his
accusations that she wasn't Dad's to her?

"Well, you're already taller than I am. Believe me, short girls can have
fun. I get by, and Andy doesn't mind my height."

"Bet he doesn't pick you up, though," April said. Oops, now Marilyn would
see where he'd got that idea. Being picked up by your boyfriend is one
thing; being treated like his kid sister is another.

"Bet he does." Marilyn was keeping up her policy of treating the girls with
total seriousness and total honesty. He felt his face burn.

"April, there are some subjects which aren't appropriate to discuss in
public -- especially in a restaurant." Dad must have seen his blush.

"Well..."

"Your father's right, April," Marilyn said. "But, next week, after church,
the two of us will go off by ourselves. You can ask me then, and I won't be
embarrassed." Marilyn didn't know their schedule for next week, but Dad
didn't say a word.

"Ask you anything?"

"You can ask me anything next week. I might not answer, but you can ask.
I'll answer what I can without embarrassing myself. I know a week is a long
time to wait, but you've been saying that you're growing up. Part of growing
up is learning how to wait when you want to do something right now." April
took that bit of adult advice better from Marilyn than she would have from
either Dad or himself.

After they drove Marilyn home and he walked her to her porch, she smiled at
him impishly.

"Do you dare to kiss me with your sisters watching?" There was only one
answer to that, and he gave it, lips and tongue.

"I love you," he whispered as she turned to the door.

When he got back into the car, the girls were full of questions.

"Is she really your girlfriend?" asked April.

"Would she let him smooch her if he weren't?" Molly responded. "Do you think
she's right? Will I want to look like a teenager in twenty years?" Well,
like a teenager -- maybe not like a 16-year-old.

"Something more you should figure out. You said she was a woman, and so she
is. But she's only about three years older than you are. Of course, she's
mature for her years. Many of the girls in her sorority are more childish
than you can imagine. But your possibility of acting like that in three
years is nothing more than behaving maturely."

"And looking like that?" asked Molly.

"Well, not quite like that. But looking like a mature woman."

"She said I was taller than she was," April said. "Sitting she looked like
it, but standing she was taller."

"I think she meant barefoot, both of you. She was wearing heels. You've got
some more growing to do. I doubt that she does."

After their annual treat, usually the high point of their visit, the girls
were more interested in Marilyn than they were in the food. Dad didn't seem
to mind, indeed as they went into the house he seemed quite contented.

That week he worked Wednesday morning and then not until Friday. He talked
with April in the afternoon. Molly was sunbathing in the back yard, and had
forbidden them to come out -- which meant that she was going topless. After
showering, shaving, and dressing, he took Marilyn to a pizza place for
dinner.

"It's not swordfish," he said. It wasn't even Mrs. Bryant's stuffed peppers,
which Dad and the girls had for dinner. Marilyn would have been welcome, but
he hadn't felt like sharing her.

"It's delicious," she said. "I liked your sisters."

"The feeling was mutual. You've made a conquest of the whole Trainor family.
Too bad I've not been so successful with yours."

"Don't feel rejected. They don't disapprove of you, they disapprove of my
having a choice." The movie cheered them up, and the parking afterwards left
him nearly euphoric.

The girls persuaded him to take them shopping Thursday. Californians now,
they thought the walk to the shopping district called for a car. At least
her tired feet persuaded April to put off buying the high-heeled shoes she
suddenly wanted.

Saturday, Dad told the girls to pack everything except their church clothes
and their night stuff. Sunday morning, they put in what they weren't
wearing. They drove to church with the bags already in the trunk. After
service, Marilyn and April went off.

"It's going to make us late for the plane," Molly complained.

"It's important to your sister," Dad said. "So we plan around it. We'll get
there on time." When April got back, she wanted to sit in the car between
Marilyn and him. Marilyn seemed agreeable.

"Sorry," he said when they were at her porch. "I'll get more time beside
you, it wasn't worth the fuss."

"I was complimented," she said. The kiss was long and deep.

"You took too long smooching," Molly said. "We'll miss the plane."

"Nope," Dad said. "Relax."

"I can't relax."

"Fidgeting doesn't do anything for time problems. Planning does. Now, what
do you want from McDonalds?" They headed into the drive-through. When he
ordered two burgers, ketchup and raw, and a large chocolate shake, April
copied his order. As he suspected she would, she left one burger uneaten and
some shake in the bottom of the cup. Dad left them off at the curb and went
to park the car. Andy shepherded the girls through check-in and baggage, but
Dad caught up with them when they were waiting in the boarding line.

"See? Loads of time."

"Well, yes," Molly said. Andy picked his chin off the floor. Luckily, Molly
was looking at Dad and April was looking out the window. When the line
started moving and they got near the front, there were kisses all around,
even one to him from Molly. They waved until the girls were in the tunnel.
Dad and he watched their plane take off before heading towards the car.

"The Moppet left an untouched burger and a little bit of shake," he told
Dad. "Want me to drive and you can eat them?" April might mind her nickname,
but Dad wouldn't.

"Drive if you want. There'll be left-overs at home. Still two stuffed
peppers in the 'fridge." Dad had obviously not looked recently.

"Um..."

"Both?"

"I worked from eight to eight Friday."

"Well, your metabolism can handle it now. Watch out for the first time You
can't buckle your belt that tight in the morning. Then you'll have to watch
your diet." They got to the car. He silently offered the shake to Dad. When
Dad shook his head, Andy slurped the remainder down. He got in the driver's
seat.

"You don't really deserve her, you know," Dad said when settled on the
passenger side leaning back with his eyes closed. "She's smarter than you
are."

"Marilyn?"

"Yeah. How long is it since you've seen the girls like that?"

"Well, Molly was antsy, though she got over it surprisingly fast."

"Molly was jealous. April had Marilyn's attention, and then you did. I don't
mean she wanted to kiss Marilyn at her front door, but..."

He mentioned part of the conversation to Marilyn on their next date.

"Dad thinks you're much too smart for me."

"Which of us is on the dean's list?" she asked.

"Doesn't matter. The girls were both happier going back than either of us
can remember. I just wish that I could do something to impress your sisters
the way you impressed mine." It seemed that her sorority thought he was a
drag on them as well as on her.

"Well, mine are superficial. April is much more mature. But, Andy, dealing
with their superficiality... Do you own more than three ties?"

Well, yes. He owned tons. It's just that most of them had been given him by
the Turd.

"Um... Yeah. Did they notice the rotation?" She was silent, which means they
had. "Well, would you prefer me to wear more ties down there?"

"Yeah. They're totally superficial, but they have commented. And, if you
wear other ones, don't wear them always in the same order? Huh?"

"Can do. They really noticed?"

"They really noticed." She sounded as though she'd really noticed, too.
Dress rules had always puzzled him. When he got it right, he tended to stick
to the answer which worked. But other times, people expected you to wear a
variety of clothes.

She was really nice to him after the movie, though, and that was worth
working on the clothes puzzle again.

As the summer wore down, she invited him to the beach on one of his days
off. He'd have rather taken her out the night before, but he didn't want her
thinking he was some vampire who only went out after dark. If she kept her
breasts covered, he got to see most of her. The bikini was scant and tight.
His own trunks were rather loose, for which he was grateful when she put the
sun screen on his upper thigh. She must have noticed the erection, though,
since she giggled.

If that was embarrassing, his reward was putting the sun screen on her. He
stroked it over her skin except for the parts covered by the suit. The suit
didn't cover much area, even if the covered areas were the very best parts.
Since she was lying face-down for most of this, she didn't see his erection
that time. And she had a perfectly lovely back which he'd not paid any
attention to. The legs were lovelier, but he'd known their shape.

He was embarrassed by his poor swimming skills when they went in. But they
needed to apply the sun screen again afterwards, which compensated.

Dad got a new car just after. The old car was his.

"So are the expenses," the old man reminded him. "I'm still paying the
insurance. If you let the engine go, you'll go back to walking. If you let
the insurance go, you'd be taking a real risk." Dad sometimes treated him
like a teenager -- not the teenager he'd been, but some caricature of the
'typical teenager.' Still, he was happy enough at the arrangement. Insurance
was a major expense and one he was happy to do without.

He drove down to campus, unfortunately by himself. Marilyn went down a week
early on some sorority business.

When he got to campus and moved into the new room, he called her up. She
agreed to a date that night. She was surprised by the car.

"I didn't tell you?"

"You never told me anything. You told the inquisition that you'd been bribed
with a car." She was probably right. She was in his thoughts so often that
he didn't always remember that she only knew things when she'd been
physically present. "Was it this car 'cause you exceeded the bet terms?" Was
the car special? Had Dad specified this car or had he only assumed it?

"I don't think so. He just didn't trade it in. You guys settle all the
problems of the world this past week?"

"We didn't even solve all the problems of rush. Y'know, I thought what I
went through was complicated and made me anxious. The complications and real
anxiety are on the other end. Shouldn't tell you, though. Zate secrets."

"Given a thought to registration?" Sorority was all well and good, but she
was on campus to learn something.

"Not since I got here. That's not as bad as it sounds. I laid out my plans
on rainy days during the summer while you were slaving away in the hardware
store. You?"

"The major stuff is more-or-less cast in stone for EEs. That's not so bad,
since they won't conflict. Diffy-Q might be a problem, since they will
expect sophomore EEs to be taking calc. You taking American Lit?" She
nodded. "I'll try for that, then. We might study together again, and I'll
need another semester of English. Then I'll try to get rid of a fine-arts
distribution. I was thinking of Drawing. They have lots of sections of
that." And it should help in the later drafting class.

"You might take Chorus instead. You have a nice voice, but it is really
untrained." Chorus wasn't his speed. Trying to match voices with a group was
just another sort of fitting in, and fitting in was neither enjoyable nor
his strong suit. "You might take swimming, too. We could swim together next
summer." Now, that sounded like a great idea. He'd been embarrassed by the
way she outshone him.

"Yeah. That was fun, if my time in the water wasn't much of the fun. Well,
when I get the rest of my schedule filled out, I'll see if swimming is
possible."

"Look," she said. "I've got to make an early night of it. We've been working
hard. And I've missed you. Why don't we forget about a movie and just find a
spot?

For a few weeks, that became their pattern. She took to wearing jeans, and
-- tempted by memories of the pleasure of applying sun screen -- he dared to
stroke her legs through the jeans. Instead of resisting, she acted as though
she enjoyed that.

All good things, however, must come to an end. And the end of that period
was known as rush. Marilyn was unavailable. More accurately, she was
unavailable to him in order to be more available to her damned sorority.

He got to registration early, and got all the classes he wanted, mostly at
decent times. Beginning classes went well. More than that, he was taking
actual engineering courses instead of preparatory stuff. He'd loved the
science, but that wasn't what he'd come for. Drawing was all right. He
didn't stand out as some undiscovered Picasso, but he didn't stand out as a
klutz, either. He did all right in the beginning parts of swimming, but the
first three weeks of Phys Ed were always better than the rest.

He was doing very well in class, but he'd been spoiled. He wanted Marilyn.

The end
Couple - M
by Uther Pendragon
nogardneprethu@gmail.com
2011/06/28


These same events from Marilyn's perspective, can be read in:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/Gjt/tra_03f.htm
Marilyn's experience

The first adventures of Andy with Marilyn:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/Gjt/tra_01m.htm
"The Meeting - M"


The index to almost all my stories:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/index.htm
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