The Making of a Gigolo Boxed Set, Volume One

The Making of a Gigolo Box Set, volume one

Foreword:

Foreword: This is a series of short, to longer stories, that will cover twenty or so years of the life of Bobby Dalton, a young man who, while he grew up in a way that might seem foreign to those of us in this day and age, wasn't at all bizarre in his own time and place. Life was both more simple, and much more complex back then than it is nowadays. His story starts when he was two years old. Because of the nature of his experience, the stories will start with relatively short accounts of what happened to him, but will get longer as they proceed, and more characters are introduced into his life. What this means is that the first story may seem short and incomplete, when read. Have patience. More ... much more ... will be revealed as each story progresses. The stories MUST be read in order, or the reader will become hopelessly lost and confused.

This volume contains books One through Four of the sixteen story series. The volumes were broken up into four sets of four books so that the reader can control how much of the entire story is desired to purchase. If, after set one, your interest is waning, you will not have spent a lot of money on the whole boxed set. If, after reading set one, you do want to know more about Bobby Dalton and the women in his life, you may purchase sets two, three and four separately, so that it's easier on your wallet. Thanks for reading. Bob

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Table of Contents

Book One – Tilly Johnson

Book Two – Martha Thompson

Book Three – Sherry Winston

Book Four – Prudence Harris

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The Making of a Gigolo Book One - Tilly Johnson

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Prologue

Bobby was two, in 1951, when his father went off to fight in a "police action" that would eventually be called the Korean war. Bobby didn't know that, of course. He was only two. He barely knew his name. Remembering "Mamma" was not a problem, because she was still there, on the farm where they lived. "Dada" was a concept that grew mistier and less firm as months turned into years, and the face that went with that name also became misty and vague.

There was another male face, as time went on. He was called "Joe" by Mamma and he had a big smile and strong hands. While Bobby didn't know why Joe was there, or from whence he came, Joe sometimes played with him, and told the most amazing stories.

Bobby had no way of knowing that Joe was one of the last of a dying breed of men who, in earlier years, had been called Hobos. He went from farm to farm, looking for work, at least enough to entitle him to a meal, and perhaps, if he was lucky, a place to get out of the weather for the night. Bobby wouldn't have cared that Joe was nineteen years old, and had been classified as "feeble-minded" by the doctors who examined the thousands of recruits who were sent to a far off peninsula, where death stalked every street, valley and hill. Those doctors decided that Joe wasn't suitable for Army life, and turned him away. Bobby wouldn't have understood that when Joe's father died, in another far off place, across an ocean so vast that Bobby wouldn't have been able to conceive of it, Joe's mother had decided she was no longer able to care for him. She abandoned him at a train station, where he thought he was waiting to take a train to see his grandparents. Joe sat, not knowing which train to get on, until someone came and chased him away with a stick.

Joe's mother had taken him to the big city, where the train depot was, and, when he was chased away from there, he hid for a while, not knowing what to do. Knowing he was supposed to get on a train, he waited until night time, and climbed up into a car that was empty. When the train started up, he rode, until he was found, and beaten again, this time with fists and a short, black, flat thing that hurt a great deal when it hit his head.

That was how Joe ended up in the middle of the country, far away from his home on the Eastern Seaboard.

Joe, however, wasn't nearly as "feeble-minded" as the doctors had thought. True, he did have significant problems with math, and had been almost unable to remember the things teachers wanted him to remember in subjects like History, English and the like. He had no talent for those things.

What he did have a talent for was understanding how things worked ... and why they stopped working. Machinery was something he just understood. All he had to do was examine it, and he could learn to work it or, if it didn't work anymore, he could puzzle out what it would take to make it work again. With half the adult male population off fighting a war, when Joe landed in the heartland of the American Midwest farming region, he was a very welcome man indeed. Men were needed for helping with the work.

And, as it turned out, his personality, which was quiet, sweet, and honest, made him welcome for other reasons. In addition to understanding what made machinery tick, he understood what made women tick too.

None of this was within the realm of interest for Bobby, though. He just loved it when Joe stayed overnight, in Mamma's bedroom, and was there in the morning, eating breakfast with them. Sometimes he stayed for weeks, helping with the planting, or harvest. Sometimes all he did was fix things and tell stories to Bobby, who watched him fix things.

As "Dada's" face grew mistier, a new thing happened. Bobby had to stay with Mable, one of Mamma's friends, while Mamma went away for a few days, and came back with a brand new little sister for Bobby. Bobby was fascinated with the little pink thing, which was so loud, and took so much of Mamma's time. But then, a few weeks later, Joe was there, to let him tag along while things got done that Mamma didn't have time for, because of that new baby. Bobby was only four, but he tried to help Joe as much as possible.

Time passed, and Joe went away for a while. The new baby, whose name he now knew was "Mary" began crawling all over the place. She was more fun, because now she would play with Bobby, and sit and listen as he told her stories that Joe had told him. Mamma started putting her to bed with him, which was nice, because Mamma came in during the night to feed Mary, and talked to Bobby while she did that. Sometimes he told her Joe's stories too, and she laughed.

More time passed. Sometimes Joe was there, and sometimes he wasn't. There came a time when he stayed a long time, and was there when Mamma made a big chocolate cake for Bobby's fourth birthday. Mary made a mess with her piece, but Bobby didn't care, because he got to eat all he wanted, while Joe and Mamma sat and grinned at him. Joe even gave him a bath, and put him and Mary to bed. He forgot to bring Bobby's glass of water, though, and Bobby had to get up and get it himself. He laughed when he saw Joe giving Mamma a bath too, right in the bathtub with her. They splashed more water around than even Mary did.

The next time Mamma went away to find a new baby, from wherever she went to find them, Joe stayed with Bobby and Mary while she was gone. He must have done a good job of watching after them, at least from Bobby's perspective, because when she came home, with a new baby sister all bundled up, she kissed Joe a lot, while he looked at the new baby too. Bobby thought it was a lot of fuss to make over a new baby. Babies were too loud, and took up too much of Mamma's time. Bobby could take care of Mary now, at least, sometimes.

Bobby thought other people made a lot of fuss over his new sister, whose name was hard to say. Mamma called her "Florence", but all Bobby could manage was "Flo". Even Mable, Mamma's friend, came over. She had a new baby too, and they spent a lot of time comparing them, and letting Joe hold both of them. Mable was happy with Joe too, for some reason, and kissed him a lot too.

Joe stayed for several weeks, helping out, and taking Bobby to the fields to weed them. Usually Bobby just played, while Joe and Mamma did all the work, but Joe said he was getting to be a big boy now, and could help his mamma out.

Joe left for a while, but came back when it was harvest time. Mamma was glad to see him. It was obvious in the way she kissed him. He left again, after the harvest was done.

More time passed, and Joe was there again, for Bobby's fifth birthday party. He gave Bobby a hand-carved make-believe pistol, just like The Lone Ranger had on the little black and white TV that Joe found somewhere and hooked up in their house. Bobby helped him put up the big silver antenna on the roof of the house, but he could only help from the ground, because Joe wouldn't let him climb the ladder to the roof.

Things seemed to be perfect, from Bobby's perspective, now that Joe was back, staying all day, and sleeping in Mamma's bedroom again. The three of them worked in the fields, while the babies played, or slept, under the big oak tree nearby. Part of Bobby's job was to keep an eye on them, while Joe and Mamma did most of the real work.

Joe stayed a long time that time too, watching, with Bobby, as Mamma's belly got all big again, like it had been before she went and brought Flo home from the hospital.

Then one day Mamma cried a lot, and sent Joe away. She cried for a week, until another man came to the house and shouted at her. He called himself "Daddy" to Bobby, but Bobby didn't like him. He shouted all the time, and even hit Mamma once. Bobby shot at him then, with his Lone Ranger pistol, and Daddy hit Bobby too. Mamma screamed at the man then, and threw one of her special plates at him. It broke, and Mamma cried again, screaming "What was I supposed to do?!"

The man named "Daddy" only stayed a day or two, sleeping on the couch in the parlor, and then left, and Mamma cried again, until Bobby hugged her, and said, "I'll go find Joe. He'll make everything all right again."

She wouldn't let him go, but she stopped crying. It wasn't until it was almost time, according to Mamma, for her to go to the hospital again, and bring home another baby, that Joe showed back up again.

Mamma cried then too, but Bobby could tell she was happy anyway.

It took a little time, perhaps some months, but, eventually, after Mamma brought him home another sister, this one named "Beverly", Bobby decided that it was worth being hit by "Daddy". That was because when Joe came back this time, he stayed until Bobby's tenth birthday party. Oh, it was true that Joe went off on trips, but he was only gone for a month or two, and always came back.

Mamma seemed to feel the need to go pick him up another sister about once a year, even though Bobby told her more than once that he had enough sisters. When he was six, Mamma brought home Linda. When he was seven, she brought home Suzie. The next year, when he was almost nine, and Mamma's belly had already swelled up again, Bobby asked her to name this one Betty. She laughed and asked him how come, and he said it was because he knew it would be another sister. She laughed some more, hugged him, and said she loved her little man, and that he could never be replaced by another boy.

Later, when Mamma came in the house with a new baby girl, Bobby just folded his arms and nodded. Then Joe brought in another baby girl.

Two at once!

It just wasn't fair, and Bobby told his Mamma that. She held him, and said she'd give up getting new babies, if that would make him happy. He reminded her she was a couple of years late, and she laughed and kissed him.

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Life was hard for Bobby, even though he wouldn't have said that. He didn't know the difference. He was the man of the house, when Joe wasn't there, which wasn't often, these days. He worked the fields, and went to school, and took care of his sisters, helping Mamma with all the things that needed doing.

He was happiest when Joe was there. He didn't mind the work, but when Joe was there to help him, it went so much faster. Besides, Joe always had another story to tell, or was ready to teach Bobby how to fix something else. By the time he was fifteen, Bobby could fix anything that needed fixing, whether Joe was there to help him or not.

Mamma did stop having babies, and Joe started going away more often, and for longer trips. Whenever he was gone, Mamma's friends came over to visit frequently. Now, besides Mable, Mamma had other friends who came over too. Violet and Beatrice were common visitors. That's because their husbands had left them too, after the war was over. They didn't talk about that anymore, when they came over. Both of them had lived on farms too, but didn't anymore. Now they lived in town, and had jobs. Violet had three daughters, about the same ages as Flo, Bev and Linda. Beatrice had a daughter and a son, who were Mary and Flo's ages respectively. There were other women who gathered on Friday nights at the farm, all of them with children in the same age ranges as Bobby's sisters. All of them were either war widows, or divorced from soldiers who were in the war. Bobby never gave it much thought. He heard Joe's name brought up a lot, and those women did a lot of giggling and sighing whenever that happened. Bobby never gave that much thought either.

On Bobby's fifteenth birthday, Joe showed up, and said he was staying for a while. Bobby got almost two more years with Joe, working side by side, and talking about life and places Joe had been, but Bobby had never seen. Those were his fifteenth and most of his sixteenth years, and Joe lived with them the whole time, only disappearing for a week at a time, once every other month or so. He'd say it was time to make his rounds, and Mamma would beg him to stay. She seemed to think it was dangerous, whatever he was going off to do, but he always smiled that shy, quiet smile of his, and said he had obligations. Bobby hadn't learned that word in school yet. Bobby listened as Joe quietly said, "People depend on me."

That was the last time Bobby ever saw Joe alive. When he came in from mowing hay, about a week later, Mamma was crying.

"Joe's dead," she sobbed.

A man had shot Joe with a shotgun, and killed Bobby's best friend.

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The late sixties - The Beginning

Bobby stopped at the pump to draw out a bucket of water to wash up in. They had running water in the house, now, but it made the sink a mess when he washed up there, so he took care of that outside. Mary, his oldest sister, tossed him a towel when he walked in the back door. She knew his habits. She was cooking dinner while Mamma rested in the other room. Mary had taken over supper, full time, to let Mamma rest from working in the fields alongside Bobby all day.

Supper was a noisy affair, what with seven girls all trying to talk at the same time. Mamma sat and listened to them, smiling a lot. She got up to get more cornbread from the oven, and ruffled her son's hair.

"Harvest will be done soon," she said, easing herself back into her chair. "We'll finally be able to take it easy for a spell."

"You promised to show me how to make a dress!" chirped Susie, who was eleven, now.

"Me too!" shouted Matilda, who was a year younger.

Bobby ignored the chatter, and concentrated on eating. There was a book he wanted to read. He'd borrowed it on the recommendation of Tilly Johnson, a woman he'd met at the library, in town. It was called Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea. Mrs. Johnson, who insisted on being called Tilly, had waxed poetic about how wonderful the story was, and how exciting it would be for an almost eighteen year old boy. She was twenty-two, and Bobby had very vague memories of her in school, when he was in the eighth grade, and she seemed all grown up as a senior. He knew her story, of course. Everyone in town did. She'd been married, the day after graduation, to Jake Johnson, who had left a week later to go off and make his fortune in the mines up in Montana. Things had gone fine for two years, and then there had been a horrible accident. Jake was in a wheel chair, and missing an arm now. He wasn't quite right in the head either. Most folks said it would have been a blessing to them both if he'd have died in the mine.

Now, two years after he'd come back, his disability paid the bills, but nobody ever saw him out and about. Tilly went out, and talked to people, but Jake just sat at home. Tilly owned the book, and he'd followed her to her house to get it, at her insistence. He'd seen Jake, in his chair, but the man hadn't said anything to him. Bobby felt funny, being in the room with the man, who looked at him, but said nothing, even when Bobby said, "Howdy."

Now that harvest was almost over, maybe he could tackle that book. Tilly had said to keep it as long as he needed to, but he didn't want to keep it too long. If it was good, he'd probably read it in a day or two, based on the size of it, and then he could return it.

The next week went from sunup to sundown, with Mamma, Mary, Flo and Bev, in Bobby's family, and five other adults, from other farms, all working to get the wheat brought in. Five families had banded together to buy a combine, and they went from field to field. Mary, at sixteen, drove one truck to take the grain to the elevator, which was only five miles away. Mrs. Haskins, who was married to Flloyd Haskins, drove the other, and they were kept busy. Others took water to whoever was operating the combine, which was usually either Bobby or Flloyd. Lunch was served on shifts, so that whoever wasn't busy could eat, and then take over for whoever was busy, so they could eat too.

Then, at last, the work was finished, and it was time for the ice cream social at the Methodist church on Broad street, in town. Pretty much the whole town turned out for that. There were fifteen churns there, with kids cranking them until they couldn't make the crank turn anymore. Then the men took over and finished it off. There was music, and dancing, and everyone was relaxed and happy. There was even a carload of boys from the next town over who showed up and begged some ice cream, before trying to spark some of the girls.

Tilly was there, without Jake. People tried not to make it obvious, but they felt sorry for the poor woman. She was in the prime of her life, and saddled with a cripple. That she loved him anyway, everybody knew. That was why she was admired, as often as she was thought to be foolish for sticking with him. But divorce wasn't yet acceptable in that part of the country. Mamma, and her divorced friends pretty much hung out together, along with the other women who had birthed Joe's children. That was pretty much common knowledge then too, though nobody ever actually talked about it. There were just two groups of ladies, and they didn't mix all that much.

Bobby hadn't learned about that until after Joe was killed by a jealous husband. During her mourning, Mamma had confessed all her "indiscretions" as she called them, to Bobby, while he held her and rocked her as she bawled, something terrible. She'd cried when Daddy had gone away, but she was devastated when Joe was killed.

Community values are funny things, sometimes. The children - there were suspected to be some fifteen of Joe's get in town - were treated just like all other children. While the adults might stick their noses up at the women who had dallied with Joe, it wasn't thought to be right that the children should suffer. That led to some odd situations, in which Joe's children played with other children, whose mothers wouldn't speak to each other, voluntarily, at least not in social situations.

The mothers of Joe's children, by and large, were an unrepentant lot. They didn't flaunt it, but they didn't feel bad about it either. They had all been in love with Joe, at one time or another. He had helped them, while their men were away, for whatever reason. He had been there when they were lonely, or sad, or frightened. He hadn't seduced them, except to just be himself, calm, thoughtful, supportive, and sensitive to their needs. If anything, they had seduced him, not that it took much. Joe could tell when a woman was in heat, and he knew what to do to cool her off. Bobby's mother had been the leader of the pack, so to speak and, over time, the women who had a secret they couldn't keep, because their bulging bellies shouted that secret to the world, identified each other and formed a band of sisters.

There had been some trouble in the past, at gatherings like this. Whether it was the 4th of July, or Labor day, or the end of harvest festivities, which included Halloween, the sisterhood all gathered and ignored the dark looks and sharp tongues of the other women. The trouble had been when a man had asked one of them to dance. He was a new teller in the bank, fresh out of college, and didn't know the lay of the land.

Or, maybe he did, and just assumed that any woman who had lain with Joe might just be loose enough to lie with him too.

In any case, it started other men to asking for dances, and the "decent" women revolted.

Now, the members of the sisterhood danced with each other at the ice cream social they knew they weren't welcome at, but felt like they owned, just as much as all the rest.

There was trouble looming on the horizon too. The eldest of Joe's children were closing in on eighteen, and that was closing in on courting age ... and marriage thoughts. While Joe's children weren't ostracized when they were younger, no mother wanted her son or daughter to be interested in one, even if the parentage of the young man or woman wasn't proven.

That was the problem with Joe's progeny. While all of Bobby's sisters were light haired, so was Mamma. Quite a number of Joe's suspected bastard daughters had blond hair, or brown, and some of it was curly, and some straight. Joe, himself, had kept his hair cut in a burr in the summer time, and few people saw him when it was grown out in the winter. Bobby, of course, knew what his hair looked like long and reddish brown, but a lot of other people didn't. When he wasn't living at Bobby's house, Joe tended to wander, and in cold weather, he wandered south.

So, there was no defining characteristic of Joe's whelps, and many a woman had joined the sisterhood, while proclaiming loudly that what people thought about her children was poppycock.

This was not to say that no one had any truck with the sisters. There was also a middle ground kind of group, both men and women, who treated them with respect and dignity. The gossips in town tended to suspect these people ... the men of seeking favors ... and the women, some of whom had children of the right ages ... of not getting caught.

This was Bobby's world, in his late teens. He was tarred with the same brush that tarred his mother. While he had interests in girls his age, it was not, for the most part, returned. He was tainted, even though he was clearly not Joe's son.

It was, therefore, not at all surprising that, like Joe had done in the winter, when there was little to do on the farm, that Bobby began to wander, to see the world outside the farm, and try to find some of the things that Joe had described to him. He didn't wander far. He was needed too much on the farm, but he did get out and about a lot more than he had as a younger man.

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Bobby's first foray into Joe's world began close at home. It began, in fact, when he returned Twenty-Thousand Leagues Under The Sea to Tilly Johnson.

Tilly answered the door in an old apron that was stained and wet, and with a harried look that bespoke frustration.

"Oh," she said, wiping the frown off her face when she saw who was at the door. "Hi, Bobby. Please pardon my appearance. My sink is stopped up, and nothing I do makes any difference."

Bobby put the book on a sideboard and proceeded to unclog Tilly's stopped-up sink. It was a mixture of hair and grease, and he had to disassemble the P trap under the sink, and then fish out the grease clogs further down, while Tilly boiled water at his request. He came out from under the sink filthy, but, as Tilly poured boiling water into the sink, and saw the whirlpool that told her it was working well again, she was so happy she hugged him.

Saying she could no sooner send him home looking like that than kill a puppy with her bare hands, Tilly demanded that he use her bathtub while she washed his clothes. That led to the woman, who felt much older than Bobby, standing there while he disrobed, at which point she realized, quite suddenly, that he was much older than she had thought. Poor Tilly, who had experienced the joys of being married for one whole week, four years past, and had never had sex since, was basically overcome by her emotions, and somehow ended up bathing Bobby, which got her dress wet, which resulted in its removal.

While she later would think furiously about how it all happened, there came a time when she whispered, "Jake is sleeping ... let's not wake him." This was said to a strapping young man, with coal black hair, who was as naked as she was, who had his knees planted between her thighs, on her bed, and whose very functional penis had to be pushed down with her hand, to engage the specific area where she desperately wanted it.

Bobby wasn't the one who woke Jake up.

Jake, fairly accomplished at moving his chair with one arm, while dragging the opposite foot on the floor to steer, managed to get to the bedroom, to see who was killing his wife, and then sat, shocked, at what he saw.

Tilly's response to having a stiff prick in her again got louder and louder as she felt a long delayed orgasm approaching. That's what woke Jake up. She didn't notice him until that orgasm had washed through her, at which point her scream would have wakened him if he hadn't already been staring at her. She also didn't notice her husband until Bobby had stiffened and poured his seed into her silky depths.

There were, of course, tears and pleas of forgiveness. Tilly wailed that she hadn't been able to help herself, and that it was all a mistake, and that she wouldn't do it again. It took Jake ten full minutes to get her to stop moaning and apologizing before he could get a word in edgewise. Bobby sat on the bed, still naked, the whole time. He had, until he returned that book, been a virgin, and all this, on top of experiencing what he had just experienced, was more than his brain could process.

"Would you shut up, woman!" rasped Jake loudly.

"I'm sorreeeee," moaned Tilly. She put her hands over her mouth at her husband's scowl.

Jake looked at Bobby, who finally got it through his head that this could get very ugly. He shrugged, helplessly.

"This the first time you done this?" he asked, looking at Bobby.

"Yeeees, Jake, pleeeease, believe me!" wailed Tilly.

"Tilly!" said Jake, his voice forceful, but not shouting. "Pipe down, girl. I'm not mad at you!"

Tilly blinked, and those blinks forced more tears down her cheeks.

"You're not?" she whined.

Jake relaxed back into his chair. "Honey," he said, almost disgustedly. "Look at me. I ain't no man. I ain't been a man since that rock fell on me, and you know that!"

"B-b-but I love you, Jake!" moaned Tilly.

"I know that!" he snapped. "I've known that every single day that you stayed in this miserable house, with me. I love you too, even if I don't act like a man anymore! I know you're a young woman with needs. What I can't believe is that you stuck with me ... that you didn't do this years ago!"

"Oh Jake," moaned Tilly, lurching off the bed to hug her husband. "Oh, baby, I could never just leave you. You're my husband. I love you!"

Jake put his one arm around her. His eyes were glistening. Eventually he turned to Bobby.

"Did you plan for this to happen?" he asked the boy.

"No sir," said Bobby immediately. "I'm not sure exactly how it did happen. It happened kind of fast."

"You ever done this before?" asked the older man.

"No sir. I never done this at all until today." His speech patterns just naturally fell into those of who he was talking to.

"You mean my baby got your cherry?" asked Jake, surprise in his voice.

"I guess she did," said Bobby, looking confused.

"Well ain't that somethin'," said Jake, grinning. "You picked a good one to lose it with."

"I didn't 'xactly plan on losing it, Sir," said Bobby, scratching his head. He felt a sudden wave of vulnerability wash over him as he realized he was naked. He looked down to see his penis, limp and shrunken, but covered in a layer of swirling, milky white sperm. His right hand came, almost unconsciously, to cover his prick.

Jake looked back at Tilly, who was staring at him, her eyes wide.

"You always were ... enthusiastic ... in bed."

Tilly blushed. "We only had that one week, before ..." She looked pained.

"I know, Baby," said Jake, reaching out to touch her hand. "It's funny how I can be jealous, but never feel a damn thing down there."

"I'm really sorry, honey," said Tilly.

Jake ignored her, and focused again on Bobby.

"So this was all just an accident."

"Honest, Sir, I was just returning a book I borrowed, and she needed some help with the drain, so I did that, and things just got kind of squirrely from there."

"What's with all this 'Sir' stuff?" asked Jake.

Bobby blinked. "You're my elder, Sir. You're a man. It's only right to show you respect."

Bobby's face suffused with blood as he realized he was still naked, and that Tilly was still naked, and that what had happened wasn't exactly the pinnacle of showing a man respect.

"I'm a cripple, boy," said Jake.

Bobby cocked his head and looked confused. "Why would that matter? You're still a man. You're still my elder."

Jake's reaction to that was hard to gauge. He frowned, tilted his head slightly, and then looked back and forth, from his naked wife, to her naked lover.

He looked at Tilly. "You deserve better than what I can give you," he said.

"No I don't," moaned Tilly. "I love you, and I always will." She started crying again, perhaps, because she sensed her husband was going to cut her loose ... for what he thought was her own good.

Bobby sat, in shock, watching as the wheelchair-bound husband and naked wife sobbed together and said sweet things to each other. He began to realize that Jake really wasn't mad, exactly, which seemed exceedingly strange, until he heard Jake explaining that, because he loved Tilly so much, and because he could not perform, as a man, he didn't mind her dalliance with the young man, who, of course, he was acquainted with. He knew everybody in the county, even if he didn't get out much.

True, there were tinges of jealousy in his comments, but he always came back to the fact that Tilly deserved more than he could provide her. Bobby watched in amazement, as they settled into what could only be called negotiations on her sexual future. Then he turned back to Bobby.

"If'n you could ... would you do it with her again?"

"What?!" yipped Tilly.

"Hush, woman, I'm trying to do something nice for you," said Jake. "Would you?" he asked Bobby.

It had all gone so fast, that Bobby hadn't even had time to evaluate the feelings, emotions, and passions he had experienced on that first rush to fill a woman's pussy with his spend.

"I guess I don't rightly know," he said helplessly. "Like I said, it happened awfully fast."

"You got a girlfriend?" asked Jake.

"No, Sir," said Bobby.

Jake thought for a minute. Tilly began to fidget. He looked at Tilly.

"Why'd you choose him?" he asked.

"I didn't choose him," moaned Tilly. "He's just such a sweet boy, and he got all filthy helping me, and I told him take a bath and when I saw his ... when I saw it ... something just came over me."

Jake seemed to sit up straighter in his wheelchair.

"All right," he said, as if everything had been decided. "I don't mind you coming around here, now and then, to see to the needs of my baby," he said, looking dead into Bobby's eyes. He turned to his wife. "But I don't want you lying with just any old feller. He's it, unless you talk to me about somebody else first. That clear?"

Tilly's eyes were about to bug out of her face.

"What are you talking about, Jake? I can't carry on with this boy. I told you, I love you!"

"You need a man ... a real man," said Jake. "I love you too, and I don't want you to waste away, taking care of me. I can't stand the thought of you throwing your life away on me, even if you love me. I'm not talking about marrying the boy. I just mean that, once in a while, you can get what I can't give you ... with him. Something in you chose him, and that means you feel something for him."

Tilly looked almost scared, and her eyes went to Bobby, and then back to Jake. Now the room was silent while she thought.

"Jake Johnson," she finally said. "I am not wasting my life looking after you. I love you. I loved you when I married you, and I love you now. I don't care what happened to you. You're still the man I fell in love with, and I will never leave you. Is that perfectly clear?"

Jake had a look of pain on his face, but he said, "All right."

"In that case," said Tilly, looking back at Bobby through lowered lashes, "I'll consider letting Bobby take care of the few things you can't give me."

Jake's look of sadness vanished.

"But only those things you can't give me!" said his wife, leaning over to kiss him.

Bobby watched, again in shock, as the couple hugged and said sweet things to each other. He felt like he was peeking at something he shouldn't be privy to, and finally stood up.

"I'll just get my clothes," he said.

"I never got them in the washing machine," said Tilly, turning her face from kissing her husband only long enough to say those words.

"I'll get them to washing then," said Bobby, uncomfortably.

He left the room, got his clothes from the bathroom floor, where they had been abandoned in Tilly's sudden hurry to run her hands over his strong body. He found the washing machine, which was an older electric model, with power-driven rollers to squeeze the clothes mostly dry. She also had an electric dryer. He just stayed there in the utility room and was putting the clothes into the dryer when Tilly appeared. She'd put on a cotton dress, but he could see her nipples through it, suggesting she was naked underneath. His prick began to respond immediately.

Her behavior was nervous, and a little cool, at first, as she took the clothes from his hands and took over getting them finished. Bobby stared at her butt when she bent over to put them in the dryer. When she stood up, though, and saw his erection, she blushed.

"This is so strange," she said.

"I guess it is," Bobby agreed, covering his prick with both hands.

"You don't need to do that," said Tilly, still pink-faced. "Jake said he was going to take another nap."

"I can't believe he'd do that," said Bobby. "Letting us ... I mean."

"This is so strange," she repeated, this time in a moan.

"Maybe I should just go on home," said Bobby.

Tilly stood there for a minute, and the pink slowly left her face. She reached out to pull his hands away from his crotch.

"Maybe not just yet," she said softly, her eyes glued to his stiff organ.

************

Their second lovemaking session was completely different than their first, and it astonished Bobby. She was much more quiet, for one thing, and everything happened much more slowly than it had before.

She started by taking him back to her bedroom, where she told him quietly that she wanted him to watch, as she removed her dress. She was, in fact, naked under it. His penis went from standing straight out from his body, to pointing up, at a 45 degree angle, as her charms were revealed.

She was ready for him, but asked him to suck at her nipples first. She wouldn't kiss him.

"I'm not going to kiss you," she said. "Jake can do that for me, so don't try to kiss me."

"All right," panted Bobby, now eager to get on with things.

Their coupling was a mixture of mis-matched thrusts, and their bodies didn't move in harmony, which was part of why it took longer for each to get to the pinnacle. She whispered that she was about to cum, and pleaded with him not to stop, and then bit into his shoulder when the ecstasy washed through her inexperienced body. Knowing that she was feeling these things because of him, sent Bobby over the edge, and he fountained into her belly again, adding his youthful, potent semen to what was still there, from before.

He collapsed on top of her, and her arms went around him. Her legs soon followed, as she gave him a full-body hug and labored for breath.

"I'm too heavy," he panted.

"No," she panted back. "Don't move. Not yet." His softening prick felt her pussy, still squeezing at him, and he lay there on her soft body.

"This was wonderful," she sighed. "Thank you."

He couldn't keep the explosive burst of laughter inside. She was thanking him?

What is usually an inevitable moment of awkwardness, when they finally parted, was missing. Though they didn't know each other, for all intents and purposes, their union had been approved, so there was no longer any guilt to make things feel awkward. There was only the feeling that something too intimate had been shared between strangers. That was tempered, though, by her calm invitation for him to visit her again, each week, if possible.

************

Bobby's return to home was surreal. He felt completely different, and expected everyone at home to see that instantly. Had any of them stared at him when he came in, and asked "What in the world happened to you?!" he would not have been the least bit surprised.

When they didn't, and he realized that, on the outside, he was apparently exactly the same as he had been when he left home that day, that was surreal too. Most of his sisters just ignored him. His mother was busy baking pies. No one noticed that a 'new' man had come into the house at all.

He thought long and hard about that as he lay in his bed that night. Something amazing had happened ... and no one could tell.

That would pop into his mind many times, in years to come.

************

Over the next few months, Bobby and Tilly got to know each other much better. While Bobby was, basically, innocent, he had heard of things that men and women did, sometimes. He wasn't sure that the things he heard claimed were truthful, or just the stuff of bragging liars.

With Tilly, he could find out.

"What are you doing?" she asked, one day, as she lay back and spread her legs for him. He was kneeling between her thighs, but not leaning over her, as she expected. They had never made love in any position other than the missionary position.

"I want to try something," he said.

"What?" she asked.

"This," he said, and pushed his face against her sex.

This, too, was an art that had not been learned yet, but Tilly realized the potential immediately, and it didn't take long for her to learn how to tell him what to do. Her first orgasm was so intense that she had to cover her face with a pillow.

The only reason Tilly found out that she could have more than one orgasm in a lovemaking session was because Bobby loved tasting her, and licking and sucking the soft skin of her pussy lips. When he continued doing so, and Tilly felt another orgasm approaching, she lay there in astonishment.

It was inevitable that Tilly would wonder what it might be like to make love to him with her mouth too. Their lovemaking world expanded greatly that day, as she found that she loved that too.

On another day, purely by accident, Bobby got to the bed first, and lay naked on it, waiting for her while she finished up some chore. When she got there, and disrobed in front of him, she climbed on top of him, just to rub against him, expecting that they'd roll over, sooner or later. When he captured a stiff nipple in his mouth, the urge to rub her pussy against him resulted in their discovery that she could, while on top of him, achieve the same release as when she lay under him.

She could also manage to cum two or three times on top of him, before he gave her the warmth in her belly that she now craved.

A month later, Tilly calmly announced she was pregnant, and that it was fine with Jake.

************

About two weeks after that, when he got to her house, she met him with bright eyes, and a smile on her face.

"Shhh" she said, softly, putting a finger to her lips. "Something has happened, and I want you to see." She whispered for him to stay back ... that she didn't want Jake to know he was there, but for him to watch, quietly.

Then she went to her husband's room, where he was sleeping, and woke him.

"I want to do it again, honey," she said, kissing Jake.

"Sweetie, the last time was a fluke. It might not happen again."

Bobby watched as Tilly got her husband naked, and then used her mouth on his penis.

"I can't believe you're doing this," he moaned.

"I can't believe we didn't think of trying this years ago," she said, between slurping sucks of his rod.

"I just naturally thought it wouldn't work anymore," he said. I never felt anything down there.

"Do you feel it now?" she asked, jacking on his prick, which suddenly looked much bigger.

"I sure do, Baby," he gasped. "I think it's going to get hard again!"

"I knew it would, honey, after last time," said the woman. "When I tried it on Bobby, I just had to try it on you."

"Oh, please keep doing it," said Jake.

"I will, baby," she said, "but I don't want you to shoot in my mouth this time."

"I'm sorry, honey," said the moaning man. "Last time I couldn't help it. I didn't mean to."

She sat back and looked at the stiff column of her husband's sex.

"Oh, I didn't mind that," she said. "I just want it someplace different this time."

She got up and straddled him, holding his erection up, while she notched it between her pussy lips.

"What are you doing?!" gasped Jake.

"I'm making love to my husband," said Tilly, sinking down onto him. "If you'd have told me I could do this before, I wouldn't have gotten pregnant with Bobby's baby."

"I didn't knooooow," groaned Jake. His arm raised, and touched her arm, where she was holding herself up with her hands on his chest. "I didn't think it could be done this way!"

"Well it can," she purred. "Now, I want you to spurt in me, baby."

She leaned down and kissed him, and started hunching her hips back and forth rapidly. Bobby watched, his own prick hard as a rock. He knew what that felt like, when she did that.

"Oh, Baby!" yelped Jake, as he reached release.

"That's my man," cooed the woman, kissing him some more.

************

"Did you watch?" asked Tilly. She had left her husband to fall asleep, and was still naked.

"Oh yeah," sighed Bobby. His penis made a tent in his pants.

"You know how I feel about you," said Tilly.

They had spent a lot of time cuddling after sex, and how they felt about each other was quite clear. It was love, after a fashion. As they slaked their physical thirsts they had grown closer, but it was clear that Tilly loved Jake, and wouldn't let another man take that space in her heart.

"I told him I'd only do with you, what he couldn't do for me," she said.

Bobby felt like he'd swallowed an ingot of lead.

"I understand," he said. He felt his penis begin to soften.

"I love being with you," she said. "I'll talk to Jake and see what he thinks."

"It's all right," said Bobby. "You were right. If you'd have known you could do that ... it never would have happened between us."

"I know," she said. "But it did happen, between us, and I still have feelings for you. He can never crush me so beautifully, like you do. I love that too. Let me talk to him. If you hadn't come into our lives, we would never have learned that he can still be a man with his wife. We owe you such a debt of gratitude, Bobby."

"Okay," said Bobby. "I should go now."

"Yes," she said, "I just had him, but I want you too. Not until I talk to him, though."

"Okay," said Bobby.

"You're so sweet," she said.

"Thanks," said the boy, somewhat sadly.

Her face twisted. "Just this once," she said, stepping towards him. He didn't know what she meant until her arms went around him, and he saw her lips coming towards his. They were soft and warm against his, almost shocking in their intimacy. She had never kissed him, and Bobby had never been kissed like this, and even though they were lovers, this kiss was something almost more intimate than the joining of their sexual organs.

She pulled back. "That was to thank you for helping us find out."

"You're welcome," said Bobby, not knowing what else to say.

************

Jake turned out to be so elated that something he'd thought was dead and gone forever had miraculously been revived, that he was as thankful about it as Tilly was. Bobby's visits became fewer and farther between, but never actually stopped. Eventually, Jake and Tilly realized that, after his accident, he couldn't visualize himself as a sexual being any longer. It wasn't that he couldn't get an erection ... it was just that he believed he couldn't. When Tilly wanted to love him with her mouth, just as an attempt to make him feel good, the results astonished them both.

Still, after Tilly gave birth to a bouncing baby boy, they learned, over time, that while Jake's manhood worked, physically, enough damage had been done that he wasn't potent any longer.

Still, his attitude improved, and he passed on his knowledge to the three children he had Bobby give them over the years. In the end, everybody was happy about the way things turned out.

While Bobby had affected their lives, though, they also affected his. Tilly wasn't the only woman he met, or that things happened with. In a way, as he enabled her to recover something lost, she started him along a path that would end up at a place completely different than that which he might have envisioned for his own future.

Joe had been his role model in ways other than things sexual. What no one knew was that Bobby would take up his wandering ways, and carry on Joe's other traditions.

This story was the beginning of Bobby's sexual life. The rest of this series is about that path, which was, at the end, strewn with satisfied women, and babies who looked like Bobby. The stories will get longer, because more people are involved. You'll meet them too.

In the next story, we'll see what happened between Bobby and a woman named Martha, who he also met while doing some handyman work.

The End of Book One

 

************

************

 

The Making of a Gigolo, Book Two – Martha Thompson

 

************

1968

Bobby looked at his list. He had four customers now, for his impromptu handyman business, which had started, quite by accident, when he repaired the drain in Tilly Johnson's kitchen sink. She had a friend, with some rotten boards on her porch, who she recommended Bobby to. He had fixed those boards, at which point the woman engaged him to do a few other things. She had a friend too, whose husband was a traveling salesman, and who needed a man around to do little fix-it repairs. She had a friend too.

It was high summer, the year following when Bobby had lost his innocence. Tilly had given birth in June to a baby that she and Jake were inordinately proud of — she, because she said it was a gift, and Jake, because everyone thought that he was the father, and now looked at him with more respect. He'd brightened up a good deal, and now went out with Tilly from time to time.

The crop in the field was doing fine and would be ready to harvest in a couple of weeks, and Bobby had time to do a few short chores, and earn a little more money towards a car.

It was that friend of a friend of a friend who Bobby was about to visit for the first time. Her name was Martha Thompson, and Bobby knew her from seeing her around at town events.

Bobby remembered Martha as a tallish woman with broad shoulders. He had looked at her more as an adult than as a woman, back then. Noticing women as ... women ... was something he began doing quite routinely after Tilly took his virginity, and then got pregnant by him. But he hadn't seen Martha around since he had started looking at women differently. He didn't exactly think about that. He'd worked for two women after Tilly, and nothing sexual had happened at all. He hadn't gone to either house with sex on his mind, but he had evaluated the women as potential sexual partners. After Tilly, every woman seemed to be a potential sexual partner. But only potential.

So, when Martha opened the door and smiled at him, Bobby noticed several things. He noticed her smile, first. It was friendly and open, and her eyes held none of the wariness that some of the people in town had when they looked at one of "those" kids ... the kids of a woman known to have had Joe's babies. Then he noticed her breasts, which were large and pillowy under the gray dress she was wearing.

Then he noticed that she had noticed him ... noticing her breasts. When his eyes came back up to her face, hers were pinned on his.

She didn't say anything, but he felt heat on his cheeks as he realized he'd been caught looking where a gentleman doesn't look ... at least not when someone else can see him looking.

"So, are you ready to work?" asked the woman. He'd never talked to her before, and her voice was lower ... richer than most other women he knew.

"Yes, Ma'am," he said. "What do you need done?"

"I've got a pear tree out back that split down the trunk in a storm last spring. I hoped it would heal up, but half of it needs to come down or I'm afraid the whole thing will die. I love those pears, but they're so heavy it's pulling the trunk apart.”

Bobby followed her, watching her generous behind move under the gray dress. It looked big, but hard too. Bobby wondered how old this woman was. He didn't have the kind of experience that would tell him that. In his mind, he compared her to Tilly. Tilly wasn't even twenty-five yet, and was still slim and athletic. She was athletic in bed too. This woman had more flesh on her body, and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, something unusual in that micro-culture of America. Most women pinned their hair up with bobby pins. He liked the hanging hair behind her head, though. He liked how it bounced as she walked. She looked strong.

"I've got a saw out in the shed," she said over her shoulder, as she led him out the back door.

"Okay," he said.

She pulled open the slat-board door of a rickety looking unpainted shed, and peered inside. She pointed toward one corner.

"I think it's back there," she said. "I'd look for it myself, but I'm just deathly afraid of spiders. Would you find it?"

"Sure," he said carelessly. He went in, and let his eyes adjust to the dusty darkness. He saw a one-man crosscut saw hanging on a nail, but had to climb over a pile of boards, and a wheelbarrow to get to it. He saw the teeth were rusty, when he pulled it down.

"Got a file?" he asked.

"Maybe in there," said Martha, leaning into the shed to point to an old dresser, in one corner.

Bobby pulled drawers open to find a mixture of tools. He found a file in one. It didn't have a handle on it, but when he ran his finger across the ridges, they felt sharp. There was a broom in the corner too, and he took it and swept it all over the dresser, walls, and floor nearby.

"Won't be any spiders around now," he said. "I'm going to need you to hold the saw, while I sharpen it."

"Oh ... all right," she said.

She stepped gingerly into the shed, trying not to touch anything. Bobby laid the saw on top of the dresser, with a foot of the teeth hanging off, and told her to hold it down. She did, and he started addressing each tooth with the file.

"It's hot in here," said Martha, lifting a hand to wipe sweat off her brow.

"Yes Ma'am," said Bobby, not really paying attention.

"You make me feel like an old woman, calling me Ma'am like that," said the woman, her voice chiding.

"I'm sorry," said Bobby. "It's just manners."

"Well, I'd like it if you called me Martha instead."

He grinned. "Okay, Martha. I've never known a Martha before."

While he finished addressing the teeth, she asked him questions about how his sisters were doing, and his mother. He replied without thinking, paying attention to the file, and the tooth he was working on. When he was done, his shirt was dark with sweat.

It was bright outside when they left the shed and Bobby was better able to see that all the teeth were now shiny and sharp.

"It feels better out here," said Martha, fanning herself, "even if it is sunny. At least there's a breeze."

"You could just wait in the air conditioning," said Bobby.

"We haven't bought one yet," said Martha. "I guess we're just used to fans."

She took him to the tree, which had grown two trunks early in life. Bobby could see the split where the trunks were pulling apart. The branches of the tree were heavy with greenish yellow fruit. He walked around the tree, looking at it from several directions.

"You know," he said. "I have an idea that might save this tree."

"Really?" Martha sounded excited.

"Back in those drawers," he said, pointing at the shed, "I saw some eye bolts. They were pretty long ones. If I drilled holes in both trunks, about ... there,” He used the four foot long saw to point high up on one trunk, "we could run wire between them, and twist it, to pull the trunks back together. Then we could slather tar on the injury, so water and bugs couldn't get in. It might heal, then."

"Why, how clever!" yipped Martha. "I never so much as thought of doing anything like that. Do you think it would work?"

"I don't really know," said Bobby. He looked at the tree. "Both sides seem to be healthy right now. We don't really have anything to lose, trying."

"Well I suppose you're right," said Martha. "I'm so glad Jenny told me about you. You're smart as a whip!"

They returned to the shed, and retrieved the eyebolts. There was an old wooden ladder lying against the shed, in the back, and they set that up too. There was no drill though.

"I've got one at home. I'll run get it," said Bobby.

When he returned, with the Yankee type hand-cranked drill and a gallon bucket of roofing tar, Martha steadied the ladder while he climbed up and drilled the first hole. He slipped in the eyebolt, put a large washer on it that he'd also brought from home, and then the nut. Then, they changed sides of the tree and did it all over again. Now all they needed was heavy wire. They found nothing in the shed.

"How about my old clothes line?" she asked. "I don't use it anymore, since we got an electric dryer."

"Perfect," said Bobby, and followed her to the back fence, where the sagging old clothes line was. Rather than try to unwind the ends of a wire from the T pole, which was embedded in the ground, Bobby just filed through it. It was as thick as a nail.

Back at the tree, they had to move the ladder back and forth, as the wire was threaded through the eyebolts to form a circle of wire, which Bobby twisted together, bending the ends back so they caught each other. Taking a foot long length of one-by-two lumber from the shed, he slipped it between the two strands, in the middle, and began twisting the wire with the board. He could see the wire tighten and shorten as it twisted. Looking down, he called to Martha.

"Step back and tell me when you think I've gone far enough."

She left the ladder, and walked twenty feet away, shading her eyes with her hand. He kept twisting.

"How 'bout now?" he yelled.

"I don't know," she said helplessly. "Why don't you come down here and look."

When he started to let go of the board, he realized the wire was trying to untwist, making the board spin backwards. It didn't go all the way, but it definitely loosened a lot. He'd have to think about a way to solve that problem. He climbed down and went to where Martha was standing. The branches needed to come in at least two more feet. He sensed the board would break before he could apply that much pressure, so he returned to the shed, where he found an old child's wagon, with a missing wheel. He worked on getting the axel off, and took it back. He also grabbed a roll of quarter inch rope that he'd seen in a drawer.

Taking it back, he asked, "Can you tie a slip knot?"

"Mercy me, no," she laughed. "I can barely tie my shoes."

"Okay, then, for what I'm thinking of doing, somebody's going to have to tie a knot. Can you climb the ladder?"

She looked up, and nodded. "If you'll hold it I can."

He told Martha how to insert the metal rod through the wire, to replace the board, and tied a slip knot in the end of the rope. He had her hold the rope in her teeth, and climb the ladder, while he held it steady.

It was as she did so that he happened to look up her dress.

What he saw first were pale buttocks, under the dress. Then, as she lifted a foot, he saw her pink slit, lying just behind a puff of dark hair. She was looking up, and didn't see him staring.

He watched, sometimes her hands, and sometimes up her dress, as she inserted the metal rod and began copying what she had seen him do.

"Okay, stop!" he called up. "I'm going out to look, so don't move."

She stood frozen, as he backed up and eyed the trunks. He went back and held the ladder again.

"Twist it ten more turns," he called up.

She did, but it got so tight that she had to put one foot down a rung, to bring her body weight into play, and he saw her pussy lips again.

She froze again, as he went back and looked. He returned to hold the ladder and told her to give it three more twists. She did, using all her weight, and he instructed her to take the rope from her mouth and slip the noose over the end of the rod and pull it tight. Then while she held the bar parallel with the ground, he had her stay still again as he tied the other end of the rope off around the trunk, below the split. That kept the rod from whirling as she let off pressure, and kept the wire tight. Holding the ladder again, he told her to come down.

This time, however, she was looking down, as he was looking up.

She was blushing when she reached the ground.

"You were looking up my dress," she said, accusingly.

"I couldn't really help it, Ma'am," said Bobby.

"I wasn't planning on climbing a ladder," she said. "It's just been so hot that underthings seem so ... unnecessary."

"Ma'am, what you do is really none of my business," he said.

"I thought you were going to call me Martha," she said.

"Well ... I thought you were mad."

"No," she said, flushing more. "It wasn't your fault. I just ... I mean ... you must think I'm some sort of hussy!"

Bobby took a chance and grinned. "I don't think you're a hussy. I didn't have to look either. I shouldn't have."

"But you did," she said.

"Well ... yes, I guess I did."

"You've probably never seen anything like that, I imagine," said Martha.

"Well, I do live with seven sisters and my Mamma," said Bobby.

"Oh," she said, as if she'd just thought of that, even though she knew it well. "I suppose you're used to it, then."

"I wouldn't say that," he said, grinning. "I don't exactly get that kind of view very often." His tone made it clear that he'd enjoyed the view.

"You mustn't tell anyone what you saw," she said, worry in her voice.

"Of course not, Martha," he said. "That wouldn't be gentlemanly at all."

"Not even your young friends!" she cautioned.

"That's a sight I'd like to keep to myself anyway," said Bobby, trying to placate her.

"Why, am I that ugly?" she sounded hurt.

"Of course not," he said. "It was just so pretty that I don't want to share it." He had no idea if she'd take offense or not, but he was having a hard time figuring out exactly what she wanted him to say.

Her blush returned and she fanned her face. "Oh my!" she said. She looked around, as if she suspected the neighbors were trying to listen in.

"Well, we're finished here," she said. "I should get you something cool to drink."

"That'd be real nice, Martha," he said.

She took him to the kitchen, and served him cherry Kool-Aid. She seemed to have a lot of energy all of a sudden, and kept darting looks at him. He was watching her move around, of course, and appreciating her body. She was definitely plump, but not overly so, and her breasts looked like they were trying to explode through her dress. He wondered why he'd never noticed that before.

"You're staring at me," she said, filling a glass with ice cubes.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm not trying to make you feel uncomfortable.”

"Oh, I guess I'm just not used to it. It's been a long time since a young man stared at me."

"I don't know why," said Bobby, taking the glass she handed him. "I think you're pretty."

"Oh my!" she chirped, fanning her face with her hand.

"I probably shouldn't stare at you, though," he said. "I'm sure your husband would take offense."

The change in her demeanor was remarkable. Gone was the flighty, embarrassed woman. Her shoulders squared, and her face took on a set look.

"You don't have to be coy with me, Bobby. I'm well aware that everybody in town knows my husband is a drunkard, and basically worthless."

That was true. Bobby did know that Arthur Thompson had spent more than one night in jail, sleeping off the effects of overindulgence. He owned the Rexall drug store, but was rarely in it. Instead, he got a bottle of whiskey and "went fishing" a lot. He did, in fact, go to the river nearby. Kids had spied on him for years, watching him talk to himself and get drunk on the bank, with a line in the water. There was great speculation about whether there was any bait on the hook, since he never seemed to catch anything, but nobody knew for sure. Arthur carried a lot more weight than his wife did ... a lot more, and his constantly florid face made it look like he was about to have a stroke all the time. People were polite to him, though, because he let them run credit accounts at the drug store.

"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings," said Bobby. "It's just that it probably isn't proper for me to look up your dress, like that."

"Probably?" she asked, distracted by his conditional statement.

"Well, it was right pretty," he said, "and I am nineteen years old."

"Are you really?" asked Martha, completely distracted now. "Where has the time gone? The last time I saw you, you were just starting High School!"

"Time does fly," said Bobby.

"I should call you Bob," she said. "Why, you're a grown man!"

"Which is why I shouldn't have looked up your dress," he said.

"Oh ... no harm done, I guess," she said, suddenly back to being the nervous, flighty woman. She looked at him, and glanced away quickly. "Could I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Do you promise you'll never tell a soul I asked you?"

"Okay."

"Was it really ... pretty?"

Bobby heard the yearning in her voice. He had no experience with a neglected wife. He would pick up on that tone of voice much more quickly, in the future, but this time it was something new. It made his ears prick up, though, because he knew that tone meant something serious was going through this woman's mind.

"It was beautiful," he said softly.

"Oh my!" she gasped. "Oh my!"

"There's nothing wrong with the rest of you either," he went on, somehow knowing that she'd liked what he said.

"Ohhhh!" she moaned. "I shouldn't be doing this!"

"You're not doing anything," said Bobby. "I'm just telling you that you're right pretty, that's all."

"Pretty!" she moaned. "Oh my!"

She jumped up, and went to the counter. Bobby saw her hand shaking as she poured more Kool-Aid into her glass. She stood there, and took a drink, facing away from him. Then she squared her shoulders again, and turned around, to sit down.

"I am a hussy," she said. "No decent woman would have asked you that."

"I think you're being too hard on yourself," said Bobby. "It's a little thing. You are pretty, and it shouldn't be so shocking for someone to tell you that."

************

Bobby sat there, as she began to talk. Somehow she got distracted again, and soon she was spilling out her woes, about Arthur, and how he was always gone, or always drunk when he was home. They'd been married fifteen years, and he'd been drunk for fourteen of it, as far as she was concerned. It had gotten worse lately, not that he acted any different, but it was clearly affecting his health, and he wouldn't do anything about it. She talked about vacations cancelled, and things not done, because he was in no shape to do them. It turned out that she went to the drug store most days, and managed it herself, though she tried to keep that from outsiders.

Finally she wound down.

"I can't believe I told you all that," she sighed.

"I won't say anything to anybody," said Bobby, reaching out to touch her hand. "You're just lonely and discouraged. I'm glad you had a chance to get it off your chest."

"You're an amazing young man," she said, looking at him. "Most men your age would probably laugh at me."

"I guess I'm not most men," he said.

"No, you’re definitely not," she said, an odd tone in her voice. "Well!" she said brightly. "Enough of my complaints. You've been very nice to listen to them, but you probably want to be paid and get on with your pursuits."

"I didn't know how long you'd need me," he said. "I left the whole day open for you. Is there anything else you need done?"

"Well," she said, her eyes taking on a faraway look. "There are a few other trees that could use pruning ... and you did sharpen up that saw."

************

They went back out, and surveyed the rest of the trees in the yard. Several had hanging branches, broken in some past wind storm. Bobby took more rope and tied it to the handle of the bucket of tar. Then he took off his shirt and climbed the trees, sawing off branches that were dead or broken, and then hauling the tar up to dress the wounds. Martha stood on the ground, watching him work, and pointing out more branches to be removed. Another two hours passed before all of the trees had been taken care of.

Bobby climbed back down from the last one, and stood, his chest glistening with sweat in the noon sun.

"You must let me feed you," said Martha, her eyes roaming over his muscled chest.

"That would be nice," he said.

"I'll get you a towel before you put your shirt back on," she said.

"Okay."

She did, watching him rub the sweat and sawdust from his upper body, and then taking the towel back. She fixed hamburgers, and they talked some more as they ate. She told him a little about growing up, and in doing so, he found out she was thirty-five.

Then she got her pocketbook, and paid him for his chores, giving him much more than he'd expected.

"There's one more thing," she said, putting her purse back on the table. "I want you to take a bag of pears to your mother."

He followed her out to the tree they'd repaired. He'd just climbed all the other trees, and the ladder was still sitting there. She'd given him a paper bag.

"I know which ones are ripe," she said. "I'll just pick them, and drop them down to you."

She put a foot on the bottom rung of the ladder.

"Hold it steady for me, please," she said.

She climbed, and, for the next ten minutes, showed him her pussy as much as she possibly could. Rather than moving the ladder, she cautioned him to hold it steady, and reached, lifting one leg out behind her, as a counterbalance. She was shameless about it, and he was shameless about looking. Each time she dropped a pear to him, she looked at him first, watching him shift his eyes from between her legs, to the pear in her hand, before dropping it.

Finally she came down. She was breathing hard, and her face was flushed.

"Tell your mother I hope she enjoys them," she said, breathlessly. "I certainly enjoyed picking them for you."

Chapter Two

It was a week later, and Bobby had just come in from morning chores, when Mamma told him that Mrs. Thompson had called, to see if he was free to come over and fix a hole in the wall. Mamma said they'd had a nice chat, and that she'd thanked Martha for the pears, which had been succulent and sweet.

He called her back, and arranged to go over that afternoon.

When he got there, she was dressed in much more youthful clothing, wearing a skirt that came two inches above her knees, and a flowered blouse.

"Thanks so much," she said. "Arthur fell, and his hand went through the wall, over there." She pointed at a fist sized hole in the wall, about four feet off the floor.

"Fell, huh," said Bobby, realizing that something bad had happened here.

"He knows better than to hit me," said Martha, nervously, aware he hadn’t accepted her somewhat lame excuse for the hole in the wall, "but sometimes he gets angry when I try to get him to stop drinking. I hid his bottle, yesterday, and he got mad."

"Where is he now?" Bobby asked.

"He went fishing," she said, her face straight.

"Are you in any danger?" he asked.

"No ... please, Bobby, don't worry about me. He won't hurt me." She waited until he nodded. "Can you fix it?"

"Yes," he said.

She watched, as he cleaned the edges of the hole, and put in a backing board. He'd brought plaster with him, and he added water and dabbed it into the hole, smoothing it with a stiff piece of cardboard, because he didn't have a trowel.

"It will need to be painted later," he said.

That was a preview of The Making of a Gigolo Boxed Set, Volume One. To read the rest purchase the book.

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