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?

39.

Oh, to be home again, home again, home again!

From then on, for a while, they fell into a routine that felt to Scott strangely like domesticity. Two or three mornings a week, one of the two would give him oral sex in his office. Two or three evenings a week, and some Sundays, Scott would come over. They talked and did household chores together, sandwiched between times of sex. They tried some other activities, but it seemed surprisingly hard to find things they all enjoyed. The women had things they did together, but mostly Scott found them uninteresting, certainly not much fun. They watched TV occasionally, but that was something Scott had come to dislike over the years. Cards were a disaster. The games they all played were ones they all didn't enjoy that much. Scott and Martha really enjoyed Scrabble and other word games, and they sometimes played, but Lynda found it really tiresome since the others were so much better. She was willing to watch and listen to them, kibitzing some, if she had something else to hold her attention, listening to music through ear buds or reading, say, but they all wanted to do things all together.

They did all enjoy taking turns reading out loud, if it was something they all liked. Scott's own tastes ran to things written lightly and amusingly, but with serious things to say. He did like old-fashioned science fiction and some fantasy. Lynda preferred romance novels. Some of the things Martha liked were also romances, but a rather different kind, regency period in particular, and romance not sex. Some of those Scott found he liked too. Martha also liked detective fiction. Again, Scott liked some of it a lot, but usually only when it had a focus beyond the solving of the puzzle. His favorite in that genre, Dick Francis, was a little too guy-oriented for the women. And, of course, for reading aloud, shorter pieces were better, but they did also read some longer things, up to short novels, in multiple sessions.

Domesticity. Even, well, . . . As they were eating dinner one evening, and somehow Scott later could never remember just when, Lynda made a request. She started off rather hesitantly. "Scott, there's something I'd like you to let me do. It's purely personal, and, um, maybe I'm out of line just bringing it up, but . . . " And she trailed off at that point without giving him any clue as to what she was talking about. Very unlike Lynda, he thought.

He waited a decent interval for her to go on, but when she remained silent, he told her, "You know I'm not likely to promise anything without knowing what it is, hon."

She took a deep breath. "I'm not asking you to, Scott. It's just that, um, it's so personal that I'm embarrassed to ask. It's totally unimportant, but somehow it would make a big difference to me." She hesitated a bit more, and then came out with it. "Would you let me trim your pubic hair? Or you could do it yourself, if you'd rather."

She must have read something other than surprise into his expression, because she blushed and hurried on as if to try to deal with objections before he brought them up. "Yes, it's just a matter of personal taste. You told us you were turned off by women shaving themselves down there, but that the way we do ours was fine with you—tidy, but not, well, like a crew cut or anything. You—"

She cut off as he held up a hand and said, "Lynda." He went on, "I'm sure I won't object, but I'm curious about why it bothers you the way it is."

"Mostly, to me, anyway, it just looks a little shabby and untidy and stringy. The only practical part is that I'd really rather not get quite so much hair in my mouth, when I use it on you. I know it's asking a lot—"

He cut her off again. "Lynda, it's fine. I might like mine just a little bit longer than you keep yours. Or should I say, a hair longer?" It was a sign of how wound up she was that this didn't get a rise out of her at all. "In fact, back when Chris was alive, I occasionally trimmed it myself. We were both kind of stringy, and sometimes during sex the hair would get tangled and pull a little painfully, and I just wanted to avoid that. I certainly won't object to having you even it up. I'm not so um,

attached

to it as it is now that I'd mind." This time she responded to the pun by sticking out her tongue at him.

But the very next time he got undressed with her, she asked him if it was a good time, and brought out scissors and did it, taking perhaps five minutes. As expected, she did a neat job, much neater than he ever would have. Thereafter, she touched the trim up every couple of weeks or so.

All in all, domesticity was the word Scott thought of. At times it felt eerily like being married.

Right on schedule, in the middle of the week, Martha's period arrived. Scott found it much harder than he'd expected to avoid sex with her. He concentrated on Lynda, trying to make sure to show affection to Martha as well without really arousing them both. He thought that it was harder on her than on him. After all, he wasn't having to put up with ongoing frustration.

But their first intercourse after her period was over really was a big deal for both of them. Except for not using a condom, they didn't do anything they hadn't done, repeatedly, by this time. But for both of them, the experience was spectacular. For him, of course, not having the artificial numbness of the condom was part of it. He wasn't sure whether Martha's enhanced pleasure was simply due to anticipation and the end of enforced abstinence, or really due to the sensations of actual contact, and he didn't much care. Martha, well, it was as though it were their first time all over again, a couple of orgasms during foreplay and then two with him inside her, and the last one very strong and sustained as he came too. For him, it was an occasion to remember and treasure. And Martha looked so blindingly happy when it was over that his heart melted.

They marked a calendar for three months from that occasion. He thought the two women looked at each other with puzzlement and concern.

He had gone into this arrangement knowing that if they cooperated at all he would have a hard time not falling in love with them. He doubted that he could ever have an ongoing sexual relationship without affection, not one he'd want to be in. And he was indeed seriously in love with Martha, and only a bit less so with Lynda. He hadn't expected, at this point in his life, that they would be so completely addictive for him. And he had been counting on their relationship, and their sexual preferences, to protect them from falling in love with him, but he was very much afraid both of them had. Since he was determined to keep their relationship limited, he had welcomed barriers to real, deep desire and affection on their parts. But unless he was misreading them completely, they were both thoroughly in love with him, and he was dreading the time when he would need to end things, dreading it now on their account as well as his own.

A week or so later, he claimed his first weekend with them.

40.

Please, don't wake me, no, don't shake me, Leave me where I am, I'm only sleeping

He came in on Friday night, bringing their week's groceries. Martha had given up on remonstrating with him over the amount he provided. He suspected that she was going to give him trouble about paying her medical expenses, in response, but as yet there really hadn't been time for her insurance to decide how much they were paying and for her to be billed for the rest. She had not, he noticed, ever told him how much the condoms had cost, much less how much the pills were. He didn't want to bully her over this, but he was determined to cover those expenses, as well as the food he was eating and similar things.

Friday evening wasn't really much different from what other evenings had come to be. They all three went to Martha's bedroom, and discussed the sexual program for the evening, and did it. But at the end, he asked, "Whom will I be sleeping with tonight?" It appeared that this hadn't occurred to the women, somehow. He guessed that they had been expecting him to sleep in the spare bedroom, and indeed when he saw it he was sure, as it seemed everything had been made specially fresh and nice.

When neither of them answered, he said, "Probably it should be Martha tonight. I've slept with a woman in a twin bed before, though she was bigger than Lynda, and I can attest that no one gets very much sleep. Every time you move you bump the other person, and every time you cough or anything it's a disruption. Martha, I'm hoping that when the time comes Lynda and I can use your bed. It's a big imposition, I know."

Martha wrapped her arms around him. "Scott, in that case, yes, I want to be first. But yes, that makes sense. I just hadn't thought about it. I know you've said we shouldn't make assumptions about taking turns, but you and Lynda should be in here together tomorrow night, then."

They all got ready for bed. He'd brought duplicate toiletries, to keep there. They discussed this. If he forgot and left things out in the bathroom or a bedroom, they would see that those got put away in a toiletries bag which could go with the suitcase in the study closet. So in his pajamas, with his teeth brushed and all ready for the night, he came back to Martha's bed.

She told him, "One thing may be a problem. I'm a very, very, very deep sleeper. I've set my alarm later than during the week, but it will take a while to wake me up, and it's loud. Please don't turn it off. I doubt that you can do anything else that will help me wake up."

They made love before going to sleep. After cleaning them up, she rolled on her side, and he snuggled close against her back, with his arm over her, enjoying the feel of this for the first time in many years. When he shifted, she didn't stir at all. But as he began to drift off to sleep, she muttered and thrashed a bit, so he moved back several inches for sleeping.

In the middle of the night, he woke up. He went to the bathroom, and when he came back to bed the thought of the sleeping woman next to him aroused him more and more. He snuggled up against her again, kissing her neck and shoulders, caressing her body. She didn't wake or stir. At first he was worried, but she was breathing, and there didn't seem to be anything wrong except that she wouldn't wake up. He kissed her on the mouth. Finally, he pulled her onto her back, climbed onto her, and went inside her. As he moved in and out, at some point her arms circled him, but she showed no other signs of waking or of awareness.

When he was done, he moved back beside her, with his arm across her body. He said quietly to her, "Martha, I know that wasn't fair, but I wanted you so much. And if I told you tomorrow that I hadn't done it for fear of taking advantage of you, you'd have gotten mad at me and reminded me of what you'd promised. I love you, honey. I love you." He was starting to cry a little, tears dripping from his eyes. "I wish I could really tell you and Lynda both how much I love you. If I did, you'd have a right to expect a longer-term relationship, and I can't do that. I know how wrong this is already. But I love you, both of you, more than I can ever tell you."

He was glad to have said that even though she wouldn't know he had. His tears eventually ran down, and he fell asleep again, nestled against her and holding her.

41.

Home With the Girls in the Morning

Scott woke to a painfully loud, raucous alarm, which left him feeling panicked and disoriented. He quickly got up, grabbed yesterday's clothes, and fled the room. After going to the bathroom, he could still plainly hear the alarm through the closed door, so he went off to the kitchen. He got himself a glass of water and a slice of bread, and settled down to do his daily bible reading. Finally, the alarm cut off, and after a couple of minutes Martha emerged and stumbled into the bathroom. Scott went back into the bedroom and lay down on the bed. When Martha came back in, she looked at him and smiled. "Good morning, honey. I hope you slept well." She came and leaned over and kissed him. "Are you waiting for something?"

"Well, since you mention it, yes. I see what you mean about sleeping soundly, and we need to talk about that later. But for now, please come back to bed and make love to me." She got in bed and lay next to him, face to face. They kissed, briefly.

"Did you somehow manage to wake me up during the night for sex, then? I don't remember anything, but, well, um, some conditions seem to point that way. I'm sure I cleaned myself up better than that, at bedtime."

"Later would be better, but yes and no. Or no and yes. No, I didn't succeed in waking you. Yes, I took advantage of you for sex in spite of that. Martha, hon, I'm afraid I was hoping for sex now as well, but maybe we really should talk about this instead."

"'Took advantage' my, um, my foot. You have my permission to do that any time. I really did mean that 'anything,' Scott, so quit apologizing. I only wish I had been awake to enjoy it myself. Is there something else?"

"Yes, this deep sleep. It doesn't seem natural, and it's definitely dangerous. What if there were a fire or some other emergency? I really mean that! I'm very concerned for your health and safety. Have you ever talked to a doctor about it?"

"I've mentioned it to doctors a few times over the years, mostly when I was younger. I don't think I ever actually got them to understand just how impossible it is to wake me. I just gave up. If I try again, can I say that my boyfriend—is that OK in a case like this?—said he tried and tried to wake me and couldn't, and that he had sex with me without waking me at all?"

"I think you should. Emphasize that you hadn't been drinking or taking drugs, at all, too. If you want some backing, I will definitely go with you and talk to her myself. Or to him, or them. And, make an appointment just to talk about this. And I am paying for it, and don't you dare try to keep me from doing that. I mean it!"

She hugged him, and then she was crying a little on his chest or shoulder. "Oh, honey, would you? It might help. But it might also get you publicity you've been so concerned to avoid."

He said, "I hope it won't. To anyone else, I'll be just your boss, and friend, along to give you moral support in getting a serious problem dealt with. To doctor and nurses, feel free to call me your boyfriend, and I'll describe the circumstances. We'll hope that their medical ethics training will keep them from talking about it beyond what's appropriate, beyond medical consultations. But it's important enough to risk trouble. I'm serious."

She said, "Yes, Scott," and kissed him. For a while they just continued to kiss, at length but without all that much heat, comfortably. Scott stroked her back, just enjoying the contact, although by this time he was pretty affected by her. She couldn't help being aware of that, he knew, but she'd only recently come out of a very deep sleep. After a while, she kissed him more enthusiastically, then said, "Scott, honey, touch me more and then move ahead. I'll love having you inside me, but I don't think there will be any fireworks this morning. I know you're trying to give me time even though you've been eager all along, and you're so wonderful, but let's just try to make it good for you, and that will be enough for me, I think."

So he kissed her harder, but not as urgently as he wanted to, and caressed her body all around, not targeting the main areas as much as usual but appreciating her whole body. She responded, but also without urgency. After a while, he took her by the hips, rolled onto his back, and swung her lower body on top of him. She made a surprised noise as he did this, then adjusted her position to straddle him. She took hold of him and guided him in. He thrust in slowly at first, but then she pushed herself down onto him harder until he was all the way in.

"Can we just lie here for a couple of minutes?" she said. "I'm large enough, it's not that, it's just that you feel so good and so comforting." He continued to hold her, lying pretty still, though after a moment he found himself moving just a little. He bent his head down and kissed her. After a brief while, she held herself up a little more and started moving, on and off, not far, just a little, but he began thrusting in rhythm with her. After what seemed a long while, he said, "You're sure it's OK if I don't wait for you? I think I could wait quite a while longer if you need me to, but . . . I kind of want to go ahead. I'm not trying to say, 'Let's get it over with,' or anything like that. Really."

She stretched up so he could bend down to kiss her. "I thought I promised to do anything you want. I'm sure that was what I said! Scott, you go ahead and enjoy yourself with me. It's wonderful, and I don't need more right now. I love—I love being here like this, with you making love to me, but I'll love it even more when you come, especially if I can see you really are enjoying me." So he began thrusting more energetically, until after what still seemed like a long time he came.

They just lay there for a minute more, and then she said, "There's no condom to worry about, but I'd rather get us cleaned up before there's too much dripping down both of us, OK?" She pulled herself off, reached for kleenex, and cleaned herself off before turning to him. When she was done, she lay down by him for a moment, kissing him, then said, "You're so wonderful to me! I hope waffles are OK with you for breakfast. Mixing the batter will be quick." She got up and got dressed enough to head with the rest of her clothes for the bathroom. Scott pulled on shorts, went to the study and chose fresh clothes, and got dressed, too. He put yesterday's stuff with the dirty laundry. He was waiting at the bathroom door when she came out. He grabbed her for a hug, then went in as she continued off to the kitchen.

Of course, one thing about having waffles is that they come out one at a time. Scott encouraged Martha to eat the first one. When the second was done, she was still eating, and he got up and took it off the waffle iron, put on more batter, and sat down to eat it. As he was taking his own second waffle out, about to turn the waffle iron off, Lynda came in, so instead he added batter.

While it was cooking, as he ate his, he mentioned to Lynda what he'd discovered in the middle of the night, and why he was concerned. Lynda knew exactly what he meant, right off. She said, "You can usually get her awake if you drag her out of bed enough to get her sitting up, but it's still hard and still takes a few minutes before she's awake enough to sit up by herself. I've been worried about it myself for a couple of years now, but I didn't see anything I could do. I still don't."

"I don't know whether anything can be done, either, but I think I need to shout loud enough to get someone's attention, if that's what it takes." He looked at Martha. "I'm afraid that there's a night at a sleep lab in your future, young woman—" here Lynda laughed "—but I think we'll need to start with your regular doctor. You do have one, don't you, besides your gynecologist?"