Let's Mae a Deal

Author's note:

This is part of a long story. No part of it is intended to stand alone. I suggest starting with

Part 1

In revising the whole story, I've corrected errors, but also filled in a lot. This has inevitably made it all even longer. My apologies to anyone who read it in the original form and now finds it changed for the worse.

If you're looking mostly for explicit sex, this probably is not the story for you, so why don't you just go on to something else? There is explicit sex in some parts, but even there it's not the focus.

Also, some parts contain religious discussions which will offend some people and bore others. If you're one of those people, again, why not go on to something else?

12.

A long-concealed crime I would confess.

Martha got up when Lynda came in. Scott had been thinking that he'd need to ask her to stand up or to shift her around, before his legs went completely to sleep, until Lynda had opened the front door and he decided he could a wait little longer. She said, "Scott, I need to talk to Lynda about something, away from you. Where can we go to talk?"

"I can go out until you're ready, if you want. But probably the easiest thing would be for you to go in the bathroom there—" there was a small one off his office, and of course there was no camera in it "—and run the water and talk quietly. Will it be quick? Or can it wait until after we eat?"

"I can live with cold pizza if it takes too long. I hope you can too. But I think we need to get this out of the way first. We'll go into the bathroom. Thanks."

Scott took the opportunity to copy and delete the camera's file. He didn't really expect to ever need it—he really did trust Martha, but "trust but verify" ran pretty deep in him, based on a few bad experiences over the years. But he had no intention of leaving it where anyone using his computer could see it.

It was probably ten minutes before they came out again. They came and stood across the desk from him. Lynda looked at Martha, and then at Scott, and began, "What you said about total honesty. I need to tell you that a while back I, I, I took a box of ball point pens out of supplies and took it home."

Martha said, "I knew about it, not right away but soon I think. I didn't do anything like returning the rest of the box or anything, and I used the pens when they came to hand, so I'm guilty too."

It was obvious enough that Martha had insisted that Lynda tell him this, and that she was trying for Lynda's sake to take as much of the blame as she could. From the time their discussion took, Lynda probably was still against telling him. Scott sighed.

"What I said about complete honesty was for now, not for then, but that kind of petty theft is always wrong, and it's a loss most every business has to deal with. But it's not a deal-breaker, even if it were big enough to be, since you hadn't promised me total honesty whenever this happened. I do understand that it's what I said about honesty and trust that's making you tell me now, and that's appropriate. The question is what to do about it."

Martha looked at Lynda, and then said, "Here's my idea. When you listed what you wouldn't ever do to us, you specifically exempted spanking. I think I'd feel a lot better about this if you spanked me for this, but if you do you probably need to spank Lynda too, and I doubt she feels the same."

Scott looked at them both. He said, "That wasn't what I was thinking of—I meant something more like in fun during sex, and I'd hope I would make sure ahead of time it was OK. I'm not real happy about spanking like that, like what you're suggesting, for reasons I'll have to explain some other time, but we can do it that way. Lynda?"

The look she gave Martha should have frozen the air in the room, but she said, "Yeah, whatever."

Scott said, "OK, then come over here." Lynda came around by him and stood there. He said, "Please pull your pants and panties down." She did so, glaring at him. He took a quick look at her crotch, which answered a couple of questions he hadn't gotten to earlier. He said, "Thank you. Now please bend over." She bent over his knees, and he gave her six swats, hard enough to sting—they stung his hand, anyway—but not all that hard, alternating buttocks. Somewhat to his surprise, she had two roses tattooed on her buttocks, with stems crossed at the very bottom of her back. He was pretty sure her underwear covered them completely, but clearly a skimpy bikini bottom wouldn't. Unsurprisingly, she also had a bit of string hanging from between her legs. He helped her stand up, and said, "Please cover up again."

Martha came around then. He gave her just two swats, just a little bit harder. When she stood up, she didn't cover herself. She said, "I'm sorry, but there's something else." She kept her eyes on the floor.

She said, "I made one big mistake that you didn't know about until it was too late for you to pin it on me, and I didn't tell you about it. I knew I was already headed toward losing my job. It was the time that whole bin of metric nuts got standard ones mixed in. It was my mistake. More inexcusable carelessness, as you put it the time before."

Scott was taken aback. He'd thought he'd known Martha well enough to know she would never have covered up something like that. In one way, it was an easy enough mistake to make. The nuts in question looked exactly alike, unless your eyes had a built-in micrometer. They were so close in size that they would start to screw on the same bolts—until the threads refused to mesh any farther. But the standard and metric fasteners were kept in separate areas, just to avoid such mistakes.

He'd made a guess as to who was most likely responsible, and those two had spent a few hours getting the parts sorted out. Since he'd been wrong, that must have been bad for morale. At least, he reflected, he'd picked the two most given to practical jokes—as well as just plain carelessness. Well, they were almost certainly guilty of plenty of things they hadn't gotten caught at. And at least this trouble had been all in house, not affecting customers except for taking the guys away from productive work while they checked all those nuts.

He thought for a while, and said, "I'm not sure what to say. I figured it was—" he started to name names but thought better of it "—one of the guys back on the floor." He looked at her. She was still standing there, the same way, looking down at the floor. "Martha, look at me." She raised her eyes. He saw that she was crying a little. "You're standing there with your pants still down because you're expecting me to spank you again, is that it?"

She nodded and said, "I'm counting on it. I know I'll feel a lot better if you do. Even if you go ahead and say that it means there's no deal and I'm fired anyway. It's been kind of gnawing at me all along, and I'm glad to get it out in the open, whatever you do about it."

Scott said, "I'm kind of shocked and hurt and, well, shocked will have to do. But you promise, complete honesty here on out? No exceptions?" She nodded. "And that you'll really, really try to be careful from now on?" She nodded again, and said, almost too quietly to be audible, "Yes, Scott, I promise."

"This was before you promised me anything about being honest, as such, and so I won't let it kill the deal. It's just that I trusted you, enough that I feel like I've slipped and fallen—or that I'm still in free fall. But if you're OK with being spanked, a lot more and harder than before, we'll call it done and over with."

She almost whispered, "Oh, Scott, thank you," and hobbled forward and gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. She bent over his knees. Because she was a lot taller than Lynda, this put her butt somewhat up in the air, leaving nothing to his imagination about the entire area between her legs. He commenced spanking, at a deliberate rate, not as hard as he possibly could but pretty hard. When he'd gotten to twenty-five, he quit.

He said, "Now, this time, cover yourself up, and we'll eat." He tried to hide the fact that he was having a little trouble breathing again, and not from exertion. He was painfully aroused, but he tried to ignore it and move on. Martha made this more difficult by saying, "Thank you. I really mean it," and leaning over to give him another kiss. Not quite like that first one, but more than enough to have had him erect and hard even if he hadn't already been.

13.

An Old Fashioned Girl

Scott cleared a couple of areas on his desk, and distributed plates and plasticware that Tony had included without Scott's asking, and the beverages. They took pieces and began to eat. Scott prayed silently before taking a bite, feeling a little strange since he knew he wasn't being obedient with the whole situation. For a couple of minutes they just chatted about the food, but then Scott changed the subject.

"All that, the spanking I mean, had one good thing about it. I'd been thinking how to ask about some things, just to avoid being unpleasantly surprised later depending on the answer, and now I don't have to. And a couple more questions I should have thought of but didn't got answered, too. Just to tell you, I've observed, um, well, I'm ashamed to say that I have occasionally watched porn videos, and you also see and hear stuff around, and it seems that it's apparently become fashionable for women to shave off their pubic hair. I have no real idea whether it's really as common as all that makes it seem, of course. I personally find that a total turn-off, so I was really glad to see that you two haven't. You've clearly tidied up some with scissors or something, and that's fine with me. You understand that I was prepared to not say anything at all, and I'm sure that I could put up with anything that way, but I'm thankful not to have to.

"Beyond that, I should have thought to ask about tattoos and piercings, and maybe I eventually would have, but I hadn't yet. Most of the tattoos I see, on men or women, just seem really ugly to me. Lynda, those roses are very tastefully done. Elegant and beautiful, which isn't really surprising in you—it wouldn't be with Martha, either.

"And, now that I've thought of it, I'm glad to see that you don't have hardware down on your genital areas. I obviously see that you both have pierced ears. Any tattoos or piercings I haven't seen, though? Oh, or breast implants? I ask that as one who expects to be touching your breasts, soon and often, only so as to avoid unpleasant surprises." All this was interrupted by occasional bites and chewing and swallowing.

Martha said, "Scott, you're as old-fashioned about all that as I am. But no, nothing else. Neither of us."

Scott said, "Again, I wouldn't even think about dictating to you on things like that. But I'd like to ask that, as long as this deal lasts, as long as you're having sexual contact with me, that you please not get tattoos or piercings. I'm thinking again of diseases that can be sexually transmitted. I've read enough to know that way too many practitioners are pretty sloppy about sanitation, and things like hepatitis get passed around. This is only a request, but I do ask you."

Martha laughed. "I don't have any trouble promising that, flat out. Every time I see someone with a tongue stud or nose ring or something, I think how dumb they are. I've read about risk of infection there. And the thought of having something that could catch and pull in really sensitive areas . . . "

Lynda said, "I can't see any reason that I would do that, but if something comes up I promise I'll try to talk with you first."

Scott looked sharply at her, and then said to Martha, "That's pretty much what I said when she asked me to promise not to tell you about her talk with me, about her offer. Lynda, were you twitting me about that, or was it just coincidence?"

Lynda looked smug. "I'll never tell. No, it was on purpose, of course. But I promise I'll give you as much warning as you gave me." She stuck her tongue out at him. He relaxed just a little. Sometimes that evening Lynda had been straightforward and serious, but mostly she had seemed to be surrounded by a dark cloud of sulkiness or resentment or something like that. Playful, pert teasing was good, he thought. She actually sounded relaxed and cheerful, for the moment.

Scott said, "There are still a few things we need to talk about. One of them is a condition, and I really should have brought it up earlier, but I was talking too much already. As someone forcefully reminded me. And it's really mostly a condition on me.

"Now, when Lynda first came and talked to me, as she kept upping the stakes, she wound up offering me sex for as long as I'd keep Martha on staff. By extension, I applied that to both of you, and when Martha and I talked she essentially agreed to that. But that's actually just crazy. If Martha starts doing a completely perfect job, there's no way you two should have to keep doing things with me. On the other hand, if she messes up so badly that I have to fire her, obviously that's the end of it. So here's what I propose. We'll set a limit, kind of a long one, starting whenever Martha is fully protected from pregnancy, and running say three months. If she messes up, more than normal and reasonable for the job but not enough that I just can't keep her on, we start the three months over. At the end of that time, no more deal, and Martha's on her own. What do you say? Is three months unreasonably long? But you did implicitly, and maybe explicitly, promise indefinitely."

They just sat there for a moment, the two women looking at each other. Lynda kind of shrugged at Martha. Martha got up, wiped her hands and mouth on a napkin, and came over to Scott. She bent over and put her arms around him and pulled him up. "Scott, we don't deserve you! I presume Lynda thought about what she was saying, that she wasn't just babbling, and when you said it back there I certainly meant to agree to keep it up indefinitely. The real question is, is three months

long

enough to make sure I'm doing OK? If it was just me, I'd counter-propose four or six months, but I'm not going to commit Lynda on this. I think we'll accept your three months, with thanks from both of us, keeping in mind that we offered this indefinitely. And depending on how things have gone I may try to renegotiate my part of this at that point!" Then she kissed him very thoroughly. When the kiss ended, she didn't let go of him, but stood there, and then kissed him again. When they broke off, she said, "Scott, thank you for looking at our interests. Again!" She went back and sat down.

Scott said, "I can't think of any other conditions to add. I do have some other things we need to discuss, but if everyone's done eating then let's pack stuff up." They combined the rest of the pizza onto one plate, with another covering it, and put it in the tiny fridge in one corner of Scott's office. Used napkins and the boxes went into the wastebasket. Scott said, "Please, help me remember to finish bagging that and take it out when we're all done." They took turns in the bathroom as well.

Martha said, "Do you want to talk, or do you want Lynda to do her part first?"

Scott looked at Lynda. "If Lynda is willing, let's go ahead with that first. Martha, be warned: if talking later gets me too turned on, you may have to, um, have a little dessert yourself, though."

Lynda came over. Scott pulled his pants down and sat again, and she knelt beside the chair. It really didn't take all that much longer than it had for Martha. A couple of times, he had to say, sharply, "Careful!" when her teeth hurt him. Lynda managed to swallow most of the semen, but a little dribbled down out of her mouth. She grabbed at one of the leftover napkins before it went any further, while still keeping him in her mouth. Scott eventually said, "That's enough. Thank you. . . . Was that worse than you'd expected?"

"No, actually much better. The taste, well, it's not what I'd order on a pizza, but I've actually had to eat things I hated a lot worse."

14.

You Don't Have to Say You Love Me, Just Be Close at Hand

They got settled, and she rinsed her mouth out. Scott said, "This is just something where it would be nice if we're all on the same page, and we can make sure nobody's more uncomfortable than we can help. Let's see, where to start? Maybe here: I'm very sure you've never heard me swear, at anyone or anything, however upset I am. Right? . . . And I'm not comfortable, myself, with much vulgarity, though at some point I had my nose rubbed in the fact that some things I'd said all my life, 'screwed up' for example, were offensively vulgar to some other people. But if I talk about sex, or think about it to myself, I normally use kind of clinical terminology. Penis, not dick or cock or dong or prick or rod. Vagina, pelvic area, genital area, vulva, not pussy, cunt, or I don't know what else. (Vulva was one I had only met in reading before I got married, and I wasn't really sure exactly what it meant and had never felt the need to look it up. I learned to use that term from my wife.) I find cutesy language of the sort some writers seem so fond of nauseating, too. I'd never say love hole or love canal or meat pole or hot button or love button or anything like that, and I really ask that you don't talk like that to me. I talk about intercourse or just sex meaning normal straight vaginal sex. For oral sex I might say something like eat me up. I wouldn't say blow job unless in conversation with people who did. And, um, I was already being too cutesy myself when I said 'dessert' to Martha a minute ago—I'm sorry. Come and came, but I may talk about orgasms too. Semen. Ejaculate. Breasts, not boobs or tits, mostly at least. I'd say butt or behind or rump or something but not ass. If this all sounds strange, well, put it down as more of Scott's weird hangups.

"And I'm likely to say 'have sex' not 'make love', just because it sounds to me like that means emotions we're not likely to have are involved. I noticed that you both said 'make love', consistently, and if that's what comes naturally to you, even when the subject is sex with me, I won't object. But I'm not likely to say it myself. I'd never say fuck or screw, unless I meant, oh, that I was doing things hard and fast in a way not intended to be good for you at all. I guess that means I'd use those terms, but not as referring to normal intercourse. I did say 'screwed' to Lynda last week, but I was making a pun.

"If the terms I use make you uncomfortable, I want to know it up front. If there's something you habitually or automatically use, tell me now. If you can't stand something I say, ditto."

The two women smiled at each other. He thought maybe Lynda was resisting an urge to roll her eyes. Martha said, "Well, most of those things we've just never had occasion to talk about. We'd tend to say a few things you think are crude, left to ourselves, but I won't have any problem at all with what you prefer, and I'm pretty sure Lynda won't either. I mean, with each other we'd say boobs, but we do know what breasts are! Like that. Somehow I'm not surprised that you prefer what you do. Or that you've never said any of these things to us in the past."

"There's another thing that's slightly related. Remember that my only experience all relates to sex with the woman I was married to for years, whom I still miss dreadfully. Would you mind too much if I sometimes address you as honey or sugar? And if at some point you want to address me with pet names, it's fine, depending. I would object to being called baby or daddy, and especially to any kind of cutesy baby talk, and probably some other things. If you ever were to find yourselves inclined, you can be sure that I'll tell you if you say something I find too awful. So if I'm affectionate in ways you don't want, just to tell me right away, OK?"