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Message-ID: <62264asstr$1343135401@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Uther Pendragon <nogardneprethu@gmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} "Why Me?_4" -- Uther -- MF wl
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Date: Tue, 24 Jul 2012 09:10:01 -0400
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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, 2012, 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.


Why Me?_4
by Uther Pendragon
nogardneprethu@gmail.com

MF wl


Bill Pierce cursed traffic as he turned onto Dempster. Driving all the way
to the Loop and back meant a traffic snarl on the best of days, and
November 2 was far from the best of days. On the other hand, he didn't have
to stand on an EL platform while this cold rain beat down. Mostly, though,
the curses were because he could. When the boys were around, he censored
himself.

If his present situation was dreadful, stuck in a car, rain coming down
like Niagara and the road slick, surrounded by drivers with shit for
brains, his long-term situation was delightful. He was coming from his job
as VP of Marketing for Andalusia Pharmaceuticals. He had a comfortable
office and an efficient secretary. People came to him with proposed
actions, and he judged those proposals. (Previously, as sales manager for
the central region, people had come to him with problems that they couldn't
solve and he had to propose solutions.)

Waiting for him at home were his twins. Johnny and Paul had been going to
kindergarten since September, and would tell you that they were big boys
now. They weren't, however, too big to be picked up. And waiting with them
was Carolyn. His wife was snooty, and spoiled by all her time in school
getting her Ph. D. in economics, but she was *hot*. She had a tendency to
bite off more than she could chew, but she had been getting enough rest
recently. Then, too, he was a homeowner now. They'd bought a house the
previous year, and it had space. The living and dining rooms could be kept
in shape for entertaining, and the boys had rooms upstairs for filling with
Legos and other toys. And the house sat in a nice yard. It was about
freezing now, but not quite. At the first decent snow which lasted through
a Saturday, he'd teach the boys how to make a snowman.

All told, 1979, the year which was drawing to a close, had been a great
year.

He pulled into the driveway, opened the garage door electronically, and
parked in the garage. This was separate, and he got wet again going to the
door, but he'd already been wet. The boys greeted him, but let him get his
overcoat and suit coat off. He hung both in the downstairs closet. When the
closet door closed, the boys attacked him. He grabbed Paul, and turned him
upside down. Now, Johnny was trying to tickle both Paul and Daddy. Carolyn
went into her home office to finish some work in economics. After he
switched boys, she came out again to put the food on the table. He put
Johnny down, too, and led the guys into the downstairs 'half-bath.' You
couldn't really take even half a bath in it, but you could piss. When he
had, Paul did, and when Paul had, Johnny did while Paul washed his hands.
Johnny flushed without being told and washed his hands. Bill washed his
hands last and led the boys to the table.

At the end of dinner, Carolyn kissed the boys good bye before heading out
to her circle meeting. Priscilla Circle was the mothers of young children,
and she needed that time. The twins stayed seated for their good-bye
kisses, but he rose for his. He got only the slightest touch of tongue, and
he squeezed her ass only briefly. It was the end of a meal together, not
the beginning of anything.

When the boys were quite finished, he cleared the table and put the dishes
into the dishwasher. Mrs. Jackson, the housekeeper, always left an
almost-empty dishwasher for them. The boys were upstairs watching their own
TV when he got done. He watched with them until bed time. Tuesday wasn't a
bath night, but they still managed to leave the upstairs bathroom a
disaster area. He cleaned up before checking on the boys' room. There would
be another room for one of them when it became necessary, but they were
happy in the same room right now. Indeed, they were far happier than they
had been about sharing a room in the old apartment when their parents had
no choice but to keep them together.

They were grinning when he went in -- Johnny from the pillow in Paul's bed,
and Paul from the pillow in Johnny's. Somewhere in kindergarten, they'd
heard some stories about the pranks that twins pulled. Nobody had explained
to them about fraternal twins. (How do you tell kindergarten students about
the woman producing two ova and their both being fertilized? First they
would have to learn that women produce ova and that they are fertilized.)
Well, we would see. This had to be Paul's idea. They were all Paul's ideas.
He went over to Johnny's bed.

"Good night, Johnny," he said. He kissed Paul's forehead.

"Good night, Daddy," Paul said.

"And now, Paul," he said to Johnny, "it's time for that spanking that I
promised you." He pulled back the sheet.

"Spanking?" asked Johnny, wide-eyed. Bill had never delayed a spanking
longer than it took to catch the kid. Pain was all part of training, even
though Carolyn thought he shouldn't spank at all. Leaving them in
anticipation of pain, dreading pain, would be cruelty, as well as useless.
Kids didn't learn unless the spanks were associated with the misbehavior.
And, too, he had spent no time with Paul that day when Johnny wasn't within
hearing distance. Still, Johnny didn't think about that. He couldn't be
expected to know that bedtime was the very worst time for punishment from a
parental perspective.

"Yes. 20 spanks are going to hurt, Paul, but you have been a *very* bad boy
today." He never gave more than 10 spanks. On the other hand, Paul's being
a bad boy today was a quite safe bet, and Johnny probably knew the details.

"But I'm Johnny."

"You are. Then who is that?" He pointed to Paul in Johnny's bed.

"I'm Johnny," said Paul. He wasn't even giggling. He was taking this
seriously, although he should remember that he hadn't been promised a
spanking.

"No! I am."

"That's not so. I am."

"Well, get out and line up. We know that Paul is taller. They lined up.
Paul get behind Johnny, bending down so that the top of his head was a
little lower. That pushed out Paul's ass, and he gave it a good swat.

"Ow!"

"Now get into your own beds and I'll read you a story." Figuring out that
Daddy had known all along, they got into bed giggling. The excitement kept
them awake, and it took 3 books to get them to sleep. He turned off the
overhead light as he went out.

He waited down the hall for a few minutes although they no longer woke up
as often as they had done when younger. Then he went down to watch his own
TV.

Carolyn came home towards the end of one of the shows. She waved and headed
upstairs. He watched the arrest, turned off the closing credits, and
started up. She was coming out of the boys' room, and they met in the hall.

"Do I get a kiss, too?" he asked.

"You, on the other hand, look most demonic when you're in bed." Despite the
criticism, or maybe because of it, they had a nice kiss. He couldn't quite
understand the criticism, but the kiss was more important. She finally
pushed his hand away from between her legs. "You're wrinkling my skirt."

"Then take it off. Better yet, let me." Rejecting the second suggestion,
she went into their room. He had a few things to do before bed, himself,
and he kept a toothbrush in the main upstairs bathroom. He took less time
than she did, and he was lying in bed when she came out of their bath. She
went to the room door and locked it. When she got to the bed, she stripped
off her nightgown and hung it on the headboard. Both were signals that they
were going to have sex tonight.

When he reached for her, though, she said, "You're way ahead of me." Well,
he'd have to bring her up to speed, but she wanted him to. He kissed her
and stroked her melons. When he kissed them and stroked down, she spread
her legs.

She was warm but a little dry when he began. He took his time, and she
moistened nicely. Carolyn was hot in more than one way; she turned him on,
but she also got turned on herself. When she stiffened, he moved between
her legs. She spread them wide to make room. When he was in her hot cunt,
she closed them to clasp his hips. They kissed before he started moving.

However much he'd been ahead of her in the beginning, she went over before
he did. He had several luxurious strokes through that smoothly clasping
heat before he erupted. Then he lay on her softness, some on his elbows but
mostly on her, for minutes.

When he got off, he straightened the sheet and pulled the blanket over them
both. He got into position and she backed into the spoon.

"Love you."

"Love you," she replied. That was, if entirely expected, good to hear.
She'd often expressed with utterly clarity that loving him didn't keep her
from being angry with him or even hating him. Right now, though, it sounded
as if love were the sole attitude in the front of her mind.

"The coven didn't persuade you that I'm unnecessary?"

"No, but I've been thinking of buying a vibrator.... Actually, the circle
is thinking of splitting apart." Now, that was news, and not likely to be
good news.

"Huh! And I thought you all got along."

"Problem isn't the getting along, it's the 'all.' There are too many of us
with small kids." Well, that was a different sort of split. The reason,
however, sounded specious.

"Never too many small kids."

"Don't be greedy! You have 2 of your own." Sure, but they were too old to
enjoy much cuddling.

"Not so small any more. They're big boys, now. Just ask them."

"Maybe they are too old to see Daddy groping Mama." Now, she raised another
issue, and he'd given her the opening.

"You want to lock them in their room?"

"I had another solution in mind." She wanted to lock sex in their room. So
did he, when you were talking about real sex.

"You're no fun."

"Wasn't what you said half an hour ago." And it hadn't even been half an
hour. Well, her body was fun. Her words were puritanical.

"Okay, you're a sexy wench when I can get you alone. You just want to be
Little Miss Priss as a parent." She didn't answer, probably thinking that
she had won. Well, her body was warm and soft and sexy. He cuddled the sexy
body while the puritanical mind went to sleep.

Saturday, it did snow. The weather, which had been so cold, was a littler
colder, but not really quite cold enough. They got a snow ball from half
the back yard and another from the other half. He lifted the second onto
the first. They rolled a much smaller one in the front yard and fashioned a
sort of face. It was not the most impressive snowman he'd ever made, nor
even the most impressive one the kids had seen. Still, Paul and Johnny got
the idea of how to build one.

By the time they got back from church Sunday, the snowman was a conical
pile of slush.

Monday evening, he was playing with the boys and conscious that ir was
almost dinner time when the phone rang. Carolyn answered it in the kitchen,
but he got ready to set Johnny down in case it was for him. She didn't call
him, however, and he managed to corner Paul by the big recliner. He piled
Johnny on top of him and gave both boys a tickling. They retaliated. When
he was certain that their time before dinner was about over, he backed off.
They came at him, and he had minutes more of fending them off before
Carolyn called them.

While the boys were washing up, he glanced at his watch. His time sense
had been correct. They were running late. When he got to the table, he
looked a question at Carolyn.

"Later." Either the boys shouldn't hear, or they would interrupt a complex
explanation. Parenting was fun, but it did limit what you could do and when
you could do it. She looked like it was something bad.

He took the dishes to the dishwasher while Carolyn read to the twins.
Monday was a bath night, and the boys enjoyed those. They didn't dawdle on
the stairs, and hurried out of their clothes. He and Carolyn supervised
enough to see that both boys washed everywhere, but their supervision
didn't extend to keeping the bath water totally inside the tub. The boys
could dress themselves except for details -- totally when the dress was
jammies. Carolyn supervised that, tucked them in, and kissed them good
night while he mopped up the bathroom and hung the bath mat over the shower
curtain. Then he went in to kiss them and read them a story or two.

Downstairs Carolyn told him what she had put off.

"Trouble?" he asked.

"One of my students was raped." And that was trouble with a capital T. "She
told me rather than the cops. Anyway, I got her to okay talking with Eric.
He's coming tomorrow at 6:00, and I want to invite her to meet him if it's
okay with you." Why the student needed his permission and Eric didn't, he
couldn't tell. Maybe she wanted him there.

"I've got the finance meeting. Do you want me to skip it?"

"Well, I don't see the point. I'm sure she doesn't want to tell you. It
took her days to work up the nerve to tell me." He didn't want to hear the
tale of woe, either.

"Okay. I'll be here at 6:00 or thereabouts, and I'll leave not long after
7:00. Think you'll be able to tear the guys away from Uncle Eric?"

"I don't think that will be my major problem."

"You know, I don't really see how being a professor is necessary. You could
stay home all day doing economics." He wanted a *wife*. He could hardly
complain about her being a mother, and she was a good one, if a bit too
fussy. Probably kids needed an example of gentleness, even boys. Anyway,
he'd always known she wanted to do economics, but she definitely did *not*
enjoy teaching. Why continue?

"And Mrs. Jackson?" Carolyn was clearly never going to be a housekeeper.
She would rather teach than have total responsibility for the house. Well,
they weren't spending their income now, and a stay-home wife with a
full-time housekeeper was absolutely in the executive style -- more so than
a working wife. A professor as a wife, though, was class. Staying home and
writing for economics journals would be more distinctive than staying home
and growing roses.

"Well, you'd spend less -- gas if nothing else. I think we could swing it."

"You're sweet. Watch your programs while I make a phone call." Presumably,
she wanted privacy. He turned on the TV, but he kept one ear tuned to
possible calls from upstairs.

She came in and went directly to her office. She came out, however, to
watch the news. Indeed, she sat quite close when she did. He kept a
toothbrush in both upstairs bathrooms, and he didn't particularly want to
return to the bathroom with the still-wet bath mat hanging on the shower
curtain. He dawdled in the bedroom until she came out. Then he went in to
make his preparations. When he came out, Carolyn was under the sheet and
her nightgown was hanging on the headboard. Her nudity implied sex, and his
cock immediately began to get firmer. He could usually coax her around, but
he did enjoy more the times she started things.

"Darling." He got naked too. In bed, he reached for her. Carolyn was a
lady, a married lady. She might signal that she was approachable, but then
it was for him to do the approaching. After a few caresses of the less
sensitive areas, he bent over her for a deep kiss. During that, he stroked
her melons. They were much less firm and even larger than they had been
before she had nursed the twins. He got to her nipple and played with it.
If the melons had lost a little of their sexiness from her breast-feeding
stint, these had gained. They were larger than before, and just as firm
when he paid a little attention to them, as he did now.

While he kissed down to one, he stroked down to her mound. She spread her
legs immediately, but he ran his fingers through her pubic hair for a
while. She had 2 sorts of hair, curly and straight, but only one level of
hair, beautiful. She was already moist when he parted her lips, and he
played with them for a while before going on to her clit. At this point, he
moved to her other nipple. He sucked it and licked it while he stroked her
clit. Judging from her moisture and the stiffening of her body, she was
getting close. He was deciding to wait a minute before climbing between her
legs when she spoke.

"Lie flat." She was going to do more than signal tonight. He immediately
obeyed. She stripped the sheet off. In the soft lamplight, he saw the
sexiness he'd been feeling.

"Remember the first time you invited me back to your apartment for a
nightcap?" she asked after climbing over him. Like this, with her on hands
and knees, her melons looked as sexy as ever and the nipples looked like
tiny cocks sticking out of them.

"Yeah. Do I still owe you that drink?"

Instead of answering, she brought both his hands between her legs. Well,
the inside of her thigh was smooth and warm and sexy to the fingertips of
his left hand. It couldn't compare, though, with what he felt between her
lips with his right hand. Her motion was limited in this position, but her
crotch dipped slightly towards his hand to show that she wanted his touch.

"Well, you were exciting, but I didn't have my diaphragm with me. So, when
you wanted to go farther, I said 'no.'" Oh. So that was why she'd refused.
He had wondered at the time, but she'd never told him. Still, that was a
great memory, and he stiffened even more as he recalled it. His cock knew
where it was going and was pointed right there. What it didn't know was
when.

Then she bent forward and brought a melon to his mouth. He grabbed the
nipple with his lips. Then he could suck. Sometimes, he stopped sucking to
simply hold the nipple between his lips while licking the end with the tip
of his tongue.

"Well, you took 'no' for an answer, and that's the kind of guy you are."
That was the nicest thing she'd said about his nature in a long time, maybe
the nicest thing ever. Even when she said she loved him, she often said she
loved him although. So he sucked and lipped and stroked. He worried for an
instant that she was going to appreciate his taking no for an answer by
giving him another no. But she was dripping wet by this time, and she
probably wouldn't deprive herself of what she enjoyed.

She pulled her nipple from his mouth and her whole melon away from him. He
thought she was going to give him a taste of the other nipple, but instead
she straightened. She grabbed his eager cock and began to sit down on it.
He used his fingers to spread her lips. His cock tip touched those fingers
and then her pussy. It was a little too far back, but she pulled it
forward, and half his head was in her.

"Thank you for the kind of guy you are," she said. She sank down engulfing
him, until her cunt was hot all around his cock.  He would have liked to
watch, and the lamp was still on, but she was looking intensely at his
face. He felt bound to look back. His attention, though, was on the slick,
gripping heat sliding down his cock.

He kept his right hand at her entrance, but he let her provide the motions
while she was coming down and for the later long, slow strokes. When she
began making shorter strokes up and down, though, he went back to stoking
her clit. He was holding his orgasm back when he no longer needed to.

She gasped quietly, and he felt her contract around him. He pulled her down
all the way on his cock just before it erupted. He was in heaven for a few
moments. When he came back, she was slumped on him with her soft melons
pressing into his chest. His cock came out, but he was nearly empty anyway.
If this wasn't heaven, it was a damn good feeling. Her ass filled his hands
while her melons softened the pressure on his chest and her face was
touching his. He breathed the scent of her hair.

When she got off, though, he welcomed it. The weight on his stomach had
been a little much. All the stuff, of course, had come out on him. Before
they went to sleep, he should get it off. He went into the bathroom and
wiped himself off with his washcloth. She probably had some on her, too. He
took the washcloth to her and she used it.

She put on the nightgown afterwards. He would rather she didn't, but she
had a point about what the boys saw. He put on his own pajama bottoms and
adjusted the covers before getting under them.

"Woman, I'm glad I married you."

"Likewise," she said as she cuddled against him. They must have parted in
sleep, because they were on their own sides of the bed when he woke up.

The next day at work, Jim Thornton said that Central Region's fall sales
had been up from the previous quarter.

"The summer was a slow time, and it always has been. How much were sales up
from the year before?" He knew the answer, but wanted to bring it up

"Nearly 5%."

"That sounds nice. Dollar amount was 4.8% and change, but our average price
increase was 4.6% -- a shade less. So the growth in pills was not 5%, which
would be fine, but less than a quarter of 1%. Your region has to do better.
He dealt with some other regional managers by phone. Lunch was long and
liquid with several other VPs.

Driving home that evening, he turned his concern from what he'd have to do
tomorrow to what he'd have to do tonight. The meeting of the church's
finance committee was usually boring. Ed, the chair, brought up bills, and
they decided to pay them. He didn't consider whether they were going to pay
the gas bill a controversial question. The alternative was freezing.
Carolyn had a invited a student and Eric for dinner. That was fine with
him. Most of their dinner guests over the year had been his guests, mostly
fellow executives. It was good that Carolyn had guests of her own,
occasionally. And Eric was a nice guy, not what you'd call an ambitious
man, but perfectly pleasant, and the kids liked him.

When he got home, Carolyn's student was already there, but Eric didn't seem
to be. The girl was a bit of a waste of resources. He was a T&A man, and
she had tits; she had an ass. The tits and ass, though, didn't have much of
a girl to go with them. The hair was blonde, probably dyed, but a decent
dye job if so. She didn't look, however, like the sort of girl who could
bring off dying her hair. She didn't even look like a girl who would want
to.

"Well," he said, "we have a guest. Do you want to introduce her to me?"
Carolyn was sure to have introduced her to the boys, and they had to learn
to remember names. They either couldn't or were overtaken by shyness.

"I'm Candy Wharton," the girl said. She'd waited long enough for him to be
clear that the boys weren't going to answer.

"Miss Wharton," said Paul.

"How do you do, Miss Wharton? I'm Bill Pierce." She was in jeans; there was
no reason for him to continue to wear a suit. He hung his overcoat in the
closet, hung his suit coat beside it, and left his tie on. "Now, if you'll
excuse us for a moment, these two boys are the wrong side up."

He started his usual roughhouse with the twins. As Paul had gone first more
than his share recently, he held Johnny upside down while Paul tried to
tickle both him and Johnny. Before that got old, he set Johnny down. Paul
ran away, trying to hide behind Miss Wharton once, but Johnny went around
one side while he went around the other. He carried Paul far enough away
from the girl that she wouldn't be kicked by mistake. Then he turned him
upside down. While Johnny was trying to tickle his brother, the doorbell
rang. He carried Paul to the door to open it.

"States Attorney's Office," Eric said as he walked in. "We have reports of
serious child abuse here."

"Well," he said, "they abuse us horribly, but nobody here is serious. This
is, Miss Wharton."

"Eric Stewart. I'm sorry for the humor." Eric, like Carolyn, thought that
playing with kids took a back seat to entertaining adults. Some adults,
sure, but not students. "I didn't know you were here yet. I'm Paul's
godfather as well the position you've heard about." He hung his parka in
the closet but kept his suit coat on.

Soon, Carolyn called them to the table. He left the downstairs half-bath
for the guests and took the kids upstairs to piss and wash. Carolyn had the
boys sit between them, nobody for Uncle Eric today. She sat, as always in
the dining room, with her back to her picture. The meal was a beef stew,
peas, and salad, with brownies for dessert. He left while the boys were on
their second brownies. They were too interested in the dessert to make a
fuss. Since he was leaving Uncle Eric with them, they probably wouldn't
have made much fuss, anyway.

The meeting was as boring as he'd expected. He'd been on Finance longer
than on Pastor-Parish, but he played a much lesser role on it. Sometimes,
he suspected that he'd been put on because the then-pastor, Jake, had
thought he would pledge more if he knew how desperate the financial
condition of the church was. Tough, he'd had a kid on the way and was
saving for a down payment. He probably should raise the pledge now, though.

Back home, the guests were gone and everybody was tucked in bed, including
Carolyn. She was awake, though. She was reading with the overhead light on,
but she put the book aside when he came out of the bathroom in pajamas. He
turned off the overhead light and locked the bedroom door. When he got into
bed and reached for her, though, she pulled away.

"I'm thinking that you're only entitled to one grope a night. You got your
ration after dinner." Well, he'd been a hero the night before. He could
hardly expect to be a hero two nights running.

"That was hardly a grope. That was a kiss. We always kiss good bye when one
of us is going out."

"A kiss good bye is all very well. I don't like your hand on my butt when
others can see -- not the boys, and certainly not my student." That was
almost everybody who had been present besides the 2 of them.

"But it's all right in front of Eric?"

"I didn't say that. It's just that I need to keep up my reputation in front
of my students. Eric already knows I'm married to an utter pig; I might not
like his being reminded of that."

"Well, I'm married to you. They both know that," he pointed out. "I'll bet
your student even knows where babies come from."

"Sure she knows we fuck, except kids that age sometimes think we all lose
our ability when we pass 30." A milestone he'd passed before he'd met her,
but a recent event for her. "Knowing is one thing, and seeing it happen is
another." Well, she wanted their sex to be in privacy. They were now in
privacy. Q. E. D.

"Well, in that case, the only way to maintain her blissful ignorance is to
fuck in secret, and she's gone now. So, it's our duty to the purity of
girlhood to fuck now, while she's gone."

"Bill, you're impossible."

"Are you saying 'no'?" Sure, she was annoyed with him, but she didn't
really sound *that* annoyed with him.

"No, but your reason is pure bull shit." Well, his reason had been a joke.
On the other hand, she wasn't saying 'no.' When he bent over her for a
kiss, her mouth opened. He took his time, and when he finally entered her,
she raised up in welcome.

Later, raising the back of her nightgown so that their go-to-sleep cuddle
could include his cock touching her skin, he thought that their sex had
levels. The night before had been special; tonight had been standard, but
it was a very high standard.

Friday, after the boys were in bed, he opened his mail. Carolyn sorted it,
opened her own and anything for the two of them before he got home. His
envelopes and any letter for the two of them that she thought he should
read were on top of the TV set every night. Tonight, he got an appeal from
some group called INFACT. They probably should have written to Carolyn; she
was the one who had told him that breastfeeding was best for kids.

Apparently, formula companies overseas were promoting formula to kids whose
health depended even more strongly on breastfeeding. Well, babies he would
never even see were much less important to him than those he could hold.
They were still important, though. He wrote INFACT a check.

Monday evening, he had an important meeting of the Pastor-Parish Committee.
This one dealt with salaries for 1980. The pastor was on equitable salary,
and that gave him a moderate raise every year. They couldn't afford more,
and the Annual Conference wouldn't allow them to pay less. (The Annual
Conference helped with that salary.) The organist, Dennis Murray, was
another matter. He was fairly new, and he had worked out well. Carolyn, for
example, really liked him, and she was in the choir. They would like to pay
him more than they were, but the budget was very tight. They finally
compromised on $50 more a month.

Saturday, Carolyn had some news for him. She wouldn't be singing that
Sunday. Candy Wharton would be coming to church and sitting with them.  So
would a couple of women to support Miss Wharton. He shouldn't sit next to
any of the women.

"Not you?"

"Well, me, but you'll be on the end -- probably the inside. Candy is off
men." Well, that was fine. The woman he *wanted* to sit next to was
Carolyn.

In the event, that's what they did. Miss Wharton didn't look all that
jumpy. Of course, he merely shook hands with her. After church, Eric came
up. The boys greeted him, but he seemed more interested in Miss Wharton.
Obviously, he hadn't got the memo. The women went off together, and Carolyn
didn't warn Eric off even then.

"Happy?" he asked at Sunday dinner.

"Happier. What do you think of her?"

"She has all the pieces of a pretty girl." Really, though, she didn't seem
to have a center. Carolyn's criticism bothered him all the time, but she
was *there*.

"Isn't that all you look at? The pieces?"

"Not for long. Was she a beauty before it happened?" The boys were
interested in their food and didn't ask what happened.

"Can't really remember. She wasn't a memorable student before she came to
me." Carolyn was a woman -- and wasn't he glad she was? -- the male
professors would have remembered if they had a pretty student.

Thanksgiving was great. Sometime, they might do what the Dan and Gladys did
-- invite a few of the church lonelies to share their meal. Right then,
they enjoyed being a family. Carolyn, who prided herself on not being a
housekeeper, roasted the turkey and got the feast on the table. Sure, she'd
had help. Hell! Not even Gladys raised her own turkey like the Pilgrims
had. But Carolyn had done the roasting herself. They had started later than
their usual lunch, and didn't get up from the table much before 2:00.

After dinner, he took the kids up to their room to watch the game. They
were hyper after too much sugar and an hour of sitting still. He was, on
the other hand, logy. He was stuffed. They would sit still for TV, and they
were getting to an age to appreciate football.

The weather Friday was miserable -- rain which turned to sleet but never
quite turned to snow. The kids went back to their cartoons, and he watched
with them for a bit of family togetherness. They didn't pay any attention
to him, and they didn't move enough to reward his attention to them. He
snuck off to get a Coke without offering them one. He didn't mind the
expense, but they'd ruin their teeth.

Carolyn was in the kitchen on a similar mission. She looked in the 'fridge.

"Cranberry sauce?" Carolyn asked.

"I'm about cranberried out. TV'd out too. You thought we were bloated last
night. The turkey overdose then is nothing to the kids' TV overdose now.
How can they watch all that?"

"It flickers. It draws their eyes."

"If the weather was bearable, I'd get them to play a little catch." Well,
one of the family was getting something done. "Getting pages written?"

"Can't quite get the section on residence to gel. I'm catching up on prep
for Micro. You know what pisses me off about business schools?" Well, where
had that come from? And he'd been being friendly, too.

"That your husband attended one?"

"That's not their fault. I knew before I married you. No. You learn two
different sets of rules: This is how businesses behave in the market, and
that is how you should behave when you run a business."

"Well, every field has theory and practice." Economics was her field. It
wasn't his fault that it was a head-in-the-clouds field.

"Yeah. Medicine has rules and exceptions, and Dr. Reynolds is always
telling me that this should have this result, but to call him if it
doesn't. But med schools don't teach that rice is for constipation in
theory and corn is for diarrhea." Where did that come from? Wouldn't corn
give you diarrhea? It had come close when he was younger and more
gluttonous.

"Well, if you eat too much of either, that might be the result."

"I meant as cures." Okay. Rice would at least diminish diarrhea. "Let me
ask you a question," she went on. "A student in your school submits a
business plan. He's going to produce widgets. He's going to make them in
precisely the same design that his competitors do. He's going to sell them
for the same price. He's really going to produce them and hope that they
sell at the same price. What's his grade?"

"Doesn't sound like much of a business plan."

"But the same school has a Micro class which says that that's what
businesses do. They all produce the same sort of goods and take them to the
auction market and let that set the price. Well, Andalusia doesn't." That
wasn't fair. Andalusia wasn't in the free market. The fucking feds
regulated them all the time.

"Andalusia is a special case. We make special goods; we're regulated up the
ass; we mostly sell prescription drugs, and we don't advertise those."

"Well, you don't advertise them to the ultimate consumers."

"That's what I meant."

"One problem of Micro over against how the market actually works is that
the classical theory has people making things and -- sort of automatically
-- selling them. Well, there are two expertises involved here. Sometimes
the people who can make things hire the people, like you, who can sell
them. Sometimes, it goes the other way."

"Even in the grocery stores, the house brands are usually made by somebody
else." Sure, companies hired salesmen. But salesmen didn't hire
manufacturers.

"Which means that the corporation which sells them hires the corporation
which makes them. But I was thinking of the moon rockets."

"Go, on. You're good, but I don't think even you can bring this off. The
moon rockets are made by aero-space companies -- experts in their field."

"Go back a bit. Before the First World War, flying airplanes was a hobby.
Some hobbyists flew them, and some hobbyists built them. The first, of
course, were the Wright brothers... Wilbur, Orville, and Sam." That was
loony-tunes.

"Sam? Are you sure?"

"Most people haven't heard of him 'cause he's still circling O'Hare."

"Ha. Notice how hard I'm laughing?"

"Anyway, the war demonstrated that airplanes were useful to kill people.
The government got interested in them. Some of those hobbyists building
planes founded commercial companies to build planes. But the builders were
the designers. The government wants a post office, it says: 'Here's the
blueprints; here's the location. What will you charge for building it?'
Contractors submit bids. They want airplanes, they say: 'What airplane can
you produce that will fit these objectives and how much will it cost?'

"Meanwhile," she went on -- and on. "Before the Second World War, another
bunch of hobbyists were building rockets. They organized into societies,
the American Rocket Society, the British Interplanetary Society, the
Society for Space Travel in Germany. War comes, and rockets turn out to be
useful in killing people, too. After the war, the government wants to buy
rockets. Does it go to the people who know how to build rockets? No. It
goes to the companies who know how to sell airplanes to the government.
These hire the people who know how to build rockets."

"Okay. I'll take your word on it." That conformed to what he knew, but he
didn't know more than he half-remembered from the news. Did she know much
more than that? "But just because the government acts that way doesn't mean
that the market acts that way. The professors in the B School were quite
clear that the government and the market were alternatives."

"Yeah, but it's not *just* the government, it's *even the government*. The
government, which is in a theoretically dominant positions, what we
economists call 'monopsony' -- one buyer where 'monopoly' is one seller --
as well as being able to write the rules, deals with the people who can
sell to it. Look at you. Doctors go to school for even longer than I did.
They have professional publications. If there were any consumers in the
entire fucking world who could go to the manufacturers without a sales
force in between, it should be doctors." She had an impractically high
opinion of doctors -- impractically high opinion of school-learning for
that matter.

"Well, doctors go to school. Then they graduate. Then new medicines are
developed."

"Information asymmetry."

"Huh?"

"The market, the theoretical market which doesn't resemble anything real,
assumes perfect information. Both buyers and sellers know everything about
the product and the market. That is obviously bullshit. Well, something
nearly as rational can be established if the information is symmetric, if
the buyer and the seller both know as much. That is almost as rare.
Usually, it's the seller who knows more. There are situations where the
buyer knows more. Business plans to build a huge office building on a block
owned by a bunch of different people. He buys the parcels one at a time
because the sellers don't know what it is worth to them." She'd dealt with
moon rockets, where neither of them knew much; she'd dealt with drugs,
where he knew much more than she did. Now she was dealing with commercial
real estate.

"I've really wandered off my point," she said.

"I didn't say it." He didn't want a fight. Since she obviously did, he'd
just listen. Anyway, it was more interesting than kids' cartoons. She could
read him the phone book, and it would be more interesting than kids'
cartoons.

"Anyway, the seller usually has more information than the buyer. The
organization almost always has more information than the individual. The
one with the most information wins. And, of course, the seller provides
most of the information that the buyer sees. That gives the buyer damned
little protection. What could go wrong? Nothing that the seller will tell
you." That was unfair. It was especially unfair about Andalusia. Every
medicine came with a list of contraindications, both for the patient, who
probably wouldn't read it, and for the doctor, who was guilty of
malpractice if he didn't read it before prescribing it.

"Well," he said, "not in my business. We have to supply information about
contraindications and possible side effects."

"Yeah. The evil government makes you say, 'By the way, if you turn blue and
start to choke, stop taking these pills and contact a doctor immediately.'
Insufferable government interference in the marketplace." That was unfair.
Andalusia was *over*regulated. That didn't mean that drug firms should be
*un*regulated.

"Well, I never said that we wanted to get rid of that rule. Andalusia would
probably follow it anyway."

As their quarrels went, this one was quite minor. At the end, he walked her
to her office door and kissed her. Her tongue answered his. She went in,
and he climbed up the stairs to see the boys again.

Paul and Johnny had a small, foam-rubber 'football.' Saturday, as it wasn't
raining, he led them in tossing it back and forth in the back yard. It
might be smaller than regulation, but their hands were smaller yet. Putting
a proper spin -- putting any spin -- on the ball was a struggle for them.
Paul got up to doing it maybe one time out of three by the time he took
them back inside.

Carolyn had hot soup and left-overs for lunch. Probably the boys needed the
hot soup after their exercise in the cold. It sure felt good to him.

Sunday, when he got to church, Dan was the greeter. "Carolyn's student is
here." He must have looked blank. "The one from last week." Well, he looked
over at Miss Wharton, but he'd been warned to leave her alone. He sat in
his usual place. When he looked later in the service, Joan was sitting with
her. The Sunday School came up before communion, and the boys ran to him.
They met Carolyn when she came down with the choir, and all four of their
family knelt and partook.

After the service, they went to a point a decent distance from the head of
the stairs where Carolyn came up from the choir room. Miss Wharton came out
with Joan, presumably also waiting for Carolyn. He called the boys
attention to her. They should be remembering names. They greeted her, and
she responded to each of them separately. Then Carolyn became visible to
them, the boys tugged at his hands and called "Mama." He held them until
she got there for hugs.

"Miss Wharton is here," he told Carolyn softly during her hug.

"Why, Candy, hello," she said when she'd straightened and turned in the
right direction. Right then, Eric got up the stairs.

"Miss Wharton," he said. "I still owe you an explanation. Do you have
something else scheduled for this afternoon?" That seemed damned
exceptional client-service from the States Attorney's bureaucracy. Usually,
getting somebody to pick up the phone was an achievement.

Miss Wharton seemed to think so, too. She dithered and looked at Joan.

"Well, if you have something to tell me," she finally said.

"Wait here. My car's two blocks away, and the weather's miserable." That
was true enough. He went to get his car, which was even further away, and
those two -- along with most of the congregation -- were gone by the time
he got back. The kids safely strapped in in back, their parents safely
strapped in in front, he drove home.

"You, after all," he told Carolyn on the way, "have some experience with
weaning." Miss Wharton looked like a fine girl, and she was nice to the
kids. He was sorry for what had happened to her, but he still wasn't sorry
enough that he wanted her in his family's life.

The end
Why Me?_4
by Uther Pendragon
nogardneprethu@gmail.com
2012/07/16


These same events from Carolyn's perspective, can be read in:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/Gjt/pie_19f.htm
Carolyn's experience

The first adventures of Bill with Carolyn:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/Gjt/pie_01m.htm
"Get a Room - M"

Another story about another couple trying to help others:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/Gjt/bla_04f.htm
"In the Morning - M"


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