Maggie The Gullible

She had the house -- Mom's house -- to herself for the weekend, thank heavens. And she hadn't been shy about telling him so as they were leaving the movie. "Come on over?" she'd asked in the demurest tone she could muster.

"Are you sure?" he'd asked.

"I just invited you, didn't I?" Did she need to remind him it was their fifth date already? Or how lucky he was that she adored shy guys so much? Just how long did he expect her to wait?

"I'd love to. If you're sure."

She was sure, all right. And she was absolutely certain now that he sat on the couch in the candlelit living room, sipping chardonnay and admiring her as she fiddled with the stereo. "I just love the glow from the radio, don't you?" he asked. "So romantic."

She stepped back for a look at that glow as the soft jazz purred out of the speakers. It wasn't quite loud enough to drown out the howling winter winds outside, but that only made her feel cozier. "Yes, I guess it is, in a masculine sort of way," she said. Turning to him, she picked up her own wine glass from the cocktail table and drank in his appreciative gaze. He still hadn't even tried to make a move on her.

"Romantic in a masculine way?" he repeated. "Is there such a thing?"

"You'd be surprised at what some guys find romantic," she said between sips of wine. She swayed gently to the beat of the music, enjoying the feel of her skirt swishing around her tights-clad legs and hoping he enjoyed the sight of it. "It usually involves something stereotypically masculine, like a stereo. Of course..." she let out a gentle laugh. "This is my mother's stereo, isn't it?"

He joined in on the laughter. "Beautiful."

"Me or the stereo?!"

"Both!"

"What am I going to do with you?!" She set her wine glass down and held out her arms. "Come here. Dance with me."

Her heart was flying as he joined her in the center of the room and enfolded her in his arms. As they swayed gently around the rug, she gazed up into his eyes and made up her mind, if he didn't at least try to kiss her first, she would give up. To her immense relief, he did lean in. Her lips met his most eagerly, and soon the dancing was forgotten in favor of a passionate, still embrace that lasted well into the next song on the radio. He rubbed her back affectionately throughout, but never once reached for anywhere more daring. For the moment she followed that lead.

When he came up for air at last, he looked to his right at the guest bedroom, where she'd turned the bedside lamp on. "I take it I'll be sleeping there."

"

We

will, I hope!" she quipped with a gentle laugh.

He replied with a nervous laugh of his own. "Oh, I'd love that, if you really want to."

"Of course I really want to! Why do you think I invited you here!"

"I was hoping it was for that," he said. "I just didn't want to assume."

She pulled away from him, still grinning. "You are so adorable! But please, give it a rest and just tell me if you want to make love already! I want to, if you do!"

His face curled into the shyest smile she'd ever seen, and he struggled to maintain eye contact. "I do," he said. "More than you can imagine!"

"Good answer!" She opened her arms to him again. "Shall we?"

He nodded but looked terribly uncertain. "Sorry, it always takes me a bit to get used to..."

"To what?"

"To letting a woman see me naked. I know that sounds silly, but..."

"No!" She gave him a gentle hug and then stepped back. "A lot of people are shy the first time. I used to be the same way, you know."

"Used to be?"

She nodded. "There are some things you don't know about me yet." Two things in particular, and she was sorely tempted to tell him one of them right now. But he would learn it soon enough anyway if they were going to be together. So she decided to show him rather than tell him. "I can undress first. Would that make it more comfortable for you?"

"That sounds really hot!" He couldn't hide his delight.

She laughed and nodded her agreement. "Sit down and finish your wine, then, and I will."

She was already unzipping her skirt by the time he was settled on the couch again. As soon as it was on the floor, she peeled her tights down over her hips and pushed them down after it, but kept her panties on for the moment. After pulling her tights off both feet, she straightened up and saw him gazing contentedly at her. Perfect. "How do I compare with the stereo now?"

"What stereo?"

"Good answer!" She pulled her top and camisole off as one, and waved them around playfully a couple of times before tossing them at him. He caught them, but didn't take his eyes off her. Standing tall and proud with her legs spread a bit, she reached back and slowly, teasingly unhooked her bra. After sliding it off her shoulders, she tossed it on a chair behind her and then rubbed her newly-bared breasts with both hands.

"Do you do that every night when you take it off?"

"Usually," she said. "Feels great." She could hardly wait for him to do it for her. But she wasn't quite done. Unabashed and unashamed, she slid both palms down her hips into her panties. She didn't break her gaze at him, but she wasn't surprised when his eyes headed south as she pushed her panties down. Stretching out her arms as if in a victory celebration, she beamed at him and hoped he'd get back up and hold her. Now that she was nude, she wasn't embarrassed, but she was cold!

She wasn't disappointed; he did get up. "So beautiful," he whispered, enfolding her nude body in his arms. "Feels so unfair, though!"

"Then let's get you out of your clothes already!" She couldn't help noticing that he still hadn't touched her breasts or pussy, though he clearly loved the sight of them. She welcomed his admiring looks, but they made her hungry for more. So she begin tearing his clothes off, much faster than she had removed her own.

***

It all started with Suzanne.

Maggie didn't realize that at the time, but it would all make perfect sense to her when she pieced it all together later on. Of course it started with Suzanne. She would remember the incident well enough, even if she wouldn't appreciate its significance at the time. Suzanne's greatest hits were rather hard to forget, after all.

Appropriately enough, it happened at the beginning of her shift one day back in the dead of winter, shortly after she'd arrived back in town. She stepped into the changing room to find Suzanne already there, with her skirt already on but not her blouse yet. "Aie!" Suzanne shrieked when she saw her, and quickly crossed her arms over her small breasts.

"It's only me, Suzanne," Maggie said, hiding her annoyance as she kicked off her sneakers and opened her locker. She had to admit to herself that she didn't care to see any more of Suzanne's pasty body than she really needed to either.

"I don't know you very well yet, Maggie," Suzanne said, forcing Maggie to put every bit of resolve she had into tamping down a smile. A month or so into her job, the others still had no idea -- and keeping it that way was even harder than Maggie had expected. But she'd done it so far. "The other girls have known me all my life, and I don't like them seeing me naked either."

"Naked? You're are wearing everything but your blouse, aren't you?" reminded Maggie, who had herself stripped down to her bra by then. She also unbuttoned her jeans and pushed them down, and took her time stowing her clothes in the locker with no sign of discomfort. She noted without surprise that Suzanne had no qualms about looking at Maggie in her underwear. But Maggie got a kick out of that as always.

"That's true, but...I just don't like being checked out, okay?" Suzanne said. By now she did have her blouse on, and set about lacing up the silly uniform shoes that reminded Maggie of ballet slippers. "As a woman, I've had to live with a lot of people looking at me like a piece of meat, which is why I'm a feminist."

"Do you think I haven't been through that too?" Maggie asked her. "Or that I'm not a feminist?"

"I told you, I don't know you," Suzanne said. "Not like the others do. We've all lived here all our lives. You just moved here a month or two ago, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Maggie said, buttoning up her own ruffly blouse. Once again it was all she could do to keep from spilling the beans about who she was, about the whole story, about how much she remembered about them all including Suzanne. But the time wasn't right, and it certainly wasn't worth wasting on only Suzanne.

"Then you wouldn't understand. I'm sorry, Maggie, but you just wouldn't."

"If you say so, Suzanne," Maggie said. Figuring there was no sense in beating that horse any further, she asked, "So how was your weekend in Philly?"

"Oh, lovely!" Suzanne said, turning off the passive-aggressiveness as easily as ever. Having finished lacing her shoes, she was now openly watching Maggie get dressed without a trace of irony. "Every time I go visit my parents, I feel like moving in with them, actually. They're so lucky they got to move out there, I wish I could've grown up there instead of here. You wouldn't understand, Maggie, but this town is death to grow up in. They always say I'm welcome, you know, and Mom and I could make dinner for Dad just like when I was a girl...oh, those were the days! I miss taking care of him! But Dad said I ought to stick with this job, so it was back on the bus this morning. Oh!" Suzanne burst into laughter. "Want to hear something funny?"

"Sure," Maggie said, buttoning up her skirt.

"On the bus back, a man got on in Atlantic City and tried to buy a ticket using fake money. Two-dollar bills!" Suzanne dissolved into peals of laughter. "Can you believe he thought that would work?"

"Fake two-dollar bills?" Maggie asked. "I'm not too surprised he thought he could get away with that. Most people probably don't know what real ones look like anymore."

"But Maggie, two-dollar bills! There's no such thing as a real one!"

"Yes there is." Maggie struggled not to laugh.

"No there's not!"

"Yes! People don't use them very often, but they're real! They have Thomas Jefferson on the front and the signing of the Declaration of Independence on the back."

Suzanne's face hardened into the look she always had when she was frustrated, like a child pretending to be a heavyweight boxer. "Well, the bus driver said they were fake, anyway. The man had to exchange them for tens with another passenger who believed him. A woman, of course. Women always end up getting cheated, which is why I'm a feminist."

"You do see funny things on buses," Maggie said. Turning her attention back to lacing her shoes, she continued. "When I was on the bus down from Boston, when I moved here? When we were stopped in Hartford, a guy got on the bus and asked if anyone had change for a hundred dollar bill, but he didn't actually hold one up or anything. An older man in the first seat opened his wallet and pulled out a twenty, and he said 'Sorry, all I have is a twenty.' The first guy said 'That'll do!' and grabbed it and ran off. A few minutes later the older man turned back to us and said, 'You know, I don't think he's coming back!'"

Suzanne burst into laughter, and Maggie joined her. Whatever she thought of Suzanne, it felt good to laugh just before heading out into the restaurant in their silly colonial attire for the busy dinner shift, which they both now did. Maggie loved the opulent restaurant and didn't even really dislike her uniform. But it was a stern reminder that she was stuck back in this town she'd escaped the summer after seventh grade, and which she'd never wanted to see again, and that she wouldn't be getting out until she'd saved up some money, and that the others just might figure out who she was before that could happen. So it always felt good to start each shift on a cheerful note.

Maggie and Suzanne were still laughing at her story when they got out to the as-yet deserted dining room, where Linda, Sarah, and Richanda were busy setting the tables. "What's tickling you two?" Richanda asked.

"Well, Maggie here fell for an awful trick on the bus, apparently!" Suzanne squealed.

"What?" Maggie asked. "It wasn't --"

"Gave some guy your real phone number, Maggie?" Linda asked. "Don't you know you have to have a fake at the ready?"

"No!" Maggie and Suzanne said in unison. Before Maggie could even think of how to explain what had really happened, Suzanne plowed ahead in the too-loud voice Maggie remembered so well from the bad old days. "A man asked her for change for a hundred, she pulled out a twenty, and he took it and ran without changing it!"

"It wasn't me!" Maggie protested. But none of the others heard her, as they were laughing too loud.

"Never trust a stranger on a bus, Maggie!" Sarah chided.

"I didn't!" Maggie said.

"Not anymore anyway, huh?" Richanda said. "Live and learn."

"But-" All at once Maggie felt ten years old again, but she didn't care in the heat of the moment.

"Maggie, it's okay!" Linda said in the same smarmy drawl she'd used back on the playground, the same tone Maggie recalled her using on Maggie while she was crying over the latest round of bullying, reminding her that Mommy wasn't here. "We all do something stupid once in a while!"

Maggie shook her head and sighed. She remembered all too well what trying to set the record straight with these girls had always gotten her back in the day, and the last thing she wanted to do was remind them of that. Even letting them believe she'd been that stupid was preferable, she conceded, and without another word she was off to the kitchen for the briefing on the evening's specials.

At least Pam and Tom weren't on duty that night. Pam wouldn't have shut up about it all evening. Tom would never have joined in on the teasing, Maggie knew that, but she didn't need him witnessing it either. On the other hand, the girls were mostly a lot nicer when he was around, so maybe there wouldn't have even been any teasing.

There also wouldn't have been any open sniping among them as to which one was going to get him in bed. But in his absence, there was plenty of that as usual. Sarah began it this time. "I think Tom might come by to flirt with me tonight, you know. Don't you see the way he always looks at me when I turn around to greet guests and my skirt billows out?" She twirled around to demonstrate.

"He does that with all of us!" Linda countered with a haughty laugh. "It's my jokes he laughs at, though."

"You laugh at them first, every time!" Richanda said. "You've always done that, ever since grade school. He's just laughing along to be polite." Silently Maggie agreed -- for once -- with Richanda; Linda had indeed always done that.

"I think it's me he wants, actually," Suzanne declared, oblivious as usual to the others rolling their eyes and shaking their heads behind her back. "And I'm not happy about it. It's sexual harassment, and if he doesn't back off, I'll report him."

"Report him for what, Suzanne?" Sarah demanded. "Has he ever touched you? I've never even seen him shake your hand!"

"No, he hasn't touched me, but..."

"Asked you out?" Richanda asked. "That would be a problem, you know, if he did it while you were both working." The others all nodded their heads, passing over in silence the fact that it was a 'problem' they all wanted to have.

"Not yet," Suzanne said.

"And we won't even ask if he's made any rude jokes," Maggie added. None of the women had ever heard him say anything the least bit ungentlemanly on the job.

"But...he's too friendly, you know?" Suzanne looked around at all the others, searching in vain for agreement. "He's charming! You know what men want when they're like that! That's why I'm a feminist."

"Some men are charming by nature, Suzanne," Linda said gently.

"Really?!" Suzanne's eyes opened wide. The others -- including Maggie -- exchanged bemused looks. They all knew Suzanne well enough to know she wasn't joking; the question was entirely in earnest. Just like that time in the fourth grade when she had replied with that very same "Really?!" when Mrs. Harvey had explained that any number times zero was zero.

"Really," Richanda said. "And Suzanne, unless he actually does something inappropriate, you really need to watch your mouth. A false accusation could get you in a lot of trouble."

"Besides, you've always been very friendly with him, too," Sarah said. "If you think he has a crush on you, maybe you should be more careful about letting him believe you might be interested, don't you think?"

Suzanne picked up a stack of menus and walked off in silence to set them on her assigned tables. But Maggie spotted a sly grin on her face before she did.

The first dinner guests arrived shortly afterward, and Maggie turned her attention to them. Though she couldn't be sure if Suzanne had lied or simply gotten the story wrong -- she

was

dumb enough for the latter to be possible -- Maggie assumed the whole thing would be forgotten once the dinner rush hit.

But she was wrong. It was that very evening that Linda started calling her "Maggie the Gullible" behind her back. By the end of their shift, she'd passed the name on to Richanda and Sarah, who were smart enough to keep it from Suzanne at least.

***

"This rain ought to wash away the last of the dirty snow at least," she said, standing naked in the window at dawn. "Can't wait for spring!"

"Yeah, me too," he mumbled as he rolled over and opened his eyes. When he saw where she was, he sat up with a start. "Hey! Aren't you afraid someone will see you?"

She turned to him with a fearless grin, and made no effort to cover up. "Nope," she said. "Besides, it is the second floor."

"But anyone who looks up from the sidewalk at the right angle..."

"Will see a woman who isn't ashamed to be who she is," she finished for him. Turning at last to come back to bed, she pulled the sheets back and lay down beside him, and placed his willing hand on her breast just the way she liked it. "I spent far too long being told I ought to hate my body when I was younger. This is all part of me reclaiming my self-respect. I enjoy showing people I'm proud of who and what I am. That's all." As she looked down to appreciate his stroking on her breast, she added, "And I love what you can do to it, too!"

"You're sweet," he said. "Shall we wake up with a bang?"

"You don't really think I was going to let you out of this bed without that, do you?" she teased, and with that she pushed him onto his back and straddled his chest, spreading her pussy wide open in easy reach. She felt anticipatory tickles within it as he moved his free hand between her thighs. "Ooohhhh!" she squealed as his fingers grazed her lips just right. "You're really good at that!"

"Thanks for letting me practice so much," he said, grinning up at her as she wriggled about appreciatively, rubbing his chest. With his free hand he resumed teasing her breasts.

She closed her eyes and, leaning over to further encourage the breast play, she began rocking eagerly on his hand. The sensation was divine and she was soon moaning hard and loud, thanking her lucky stars that her mother always left for work early. He'd improved a lot since that fun but awkward first evening just a couple of weeks before, and his shyness about exploring her pussy with his fingers was wonderfully gone, as he now reminded her with a perfect come-hither stroke inside that made her scream in joy. "Yes! Dothatagain!" And he did, a bit faster this time, and again and again until she felt her first orgasm wash over her. "Ohhhhhh, thank you," she murmured as he slowed his stroking and finally pulled his finger out. She lost no time in taking his cock in her right hand and sliding him effortlessly in. "Your turn," she whispered huskily.