Chapter Thirteen
The next day Stan showed up, bringing the total in residence to nine and I was in trouble. In the first place, he was bigger than Roger but worse, he was an absolutely terrible lover. The guys had been inexpert and hair-triggered but willing to learn. Stan was inexpert and convinced that he was God's gift to women.
After an afternoon of him mauling my boobs and fucking me, not making love, just fucking me, I had enough.
"Aaron," I said, catching him in the Great Room, "walk with me."
So we took a walk around the grounds.
"Okay, what's up," he asked at last.
So I stopped and took his hands in mine.
"Aaron, I love you," I said, "you know that, don't you?"
He looked as serious as I had ever seen him look when he said, "yes."
Another deep breath and I said, "We need to talk about Stan."
"What about him? he asked, genuinely seeming curious.
"Honey, I like him fine, but dammit, he treats me like I'm some whore or something and I WILL NOT HAVE THAT!" I said, unable to stop my voice from rising and getting louder as I got it out.
"Calm down," he said, taking me into his arms, "now tell Uncle Aaron what this is all about."
And I was crying and pissed because I was crying.
"Aaron," I said, wiping my nose on my arm in a most unladylike fashion, "how many times have you told me you loved me?"
That stopped him and he thought for a minute before flashing The Grin and saying "oh, a bazillion by my actual count."
Which made me giggle a little.
"How many times the first night we were together," I asked.
He obviously realized this was important to me and said, quite seriously, "dozens at least."
"That's right honey," I said. "And with you and Davey and Roger and everyone else, when we have sex we're making love, you know. Even when it gets a little kinky," and here I giggled, "okay, a lot kinky like after you guys shaved me there's no doubt at all, for me anyway, that it's love."
"It is," he said, holding my eyes with his.
"But that's the thing honey," I said, finally getting to it, "with Stan, it doesn't feel that way. It feels like he's just fucking me and if it was someone else that would be okay."
He started to respond but I held up a finger.
"Look," I said, "I hate ultimatums and I love you guys, but dammit, if this doesn't change I'm out of here. I was a fucking barfly whore for three years and I am NOT going back to that."
He grabbed me and pulled me to him and then, dammit, I was crying again.
I really don't know how long he held me like that. Until I had cried myself out, that's for sure.
When I was done he pushed me to arm's length, holding my hands.
"Rebecca," he said, "I love you. WE love you. We love Stan too but if it comes to a choice, it's a no-brainer, my love. It's you. But let me talk to him and see if we can't get this fixed."
I smiled, for the first time that afternoon, and said, "thank you, baby."
So I stood there getting myself together, as he walked away.
Presently I went back into the house, into the kitchen, and made a sandwich. Pastrami on rye if you care. I sat on the couch and looked at, I can't say I really watched, the reruns of "Big Bang Theory" that were on the TV.
I finished my sandwich and just sort of stared at the TV when I was done. For the first time since I had taken this job, I was unhappy. And I didn't like it.
I was surprised when Stan came and stood in front of me.
He just stood there, between me and the TV, until I finally looked up and met his eyes.
When I did he dropped to his knees and took my hands in his.
"Can you forgive me?" he asked and when I didn't say anything he went on.
"Rebecca," he started and gave me sort of a half-smile and said, "I think I have to earn the right all over to call you Becky."
Which made me smile at least a little.
"Rebecca," he started again, "I have been a boor and I apologize. We have had girls around from time to time and they deserved to be treated as I treated you. When you were introduced as my 'wife,' I really didn't understand how much that meant. Aaron told me I have offended you deeply and explained that your wedding had been fully consummated and was real and, well...."
He sort of ran down.
I deliberately said nothing, making him wait.
He didn't move, I'll give him that.
Finally, I couldn't hold back. I grinned and held out my arms. "Of course I forgive you," I said and it turned out he was a good kisser.
"Now take me to bed and show me what you got," I said, standing.
I took his hand and we started for the stairs when Aaron let out one of those loud, shrill whistles.
"Meeting of the Order tonight," he intoned in that falsely James Earl Jones voice he could pull off.
The four others in the room jumped to their feet and intoned, "at the stroke of midnight," making me giggle and drawing a frown from Aaron.
It turned out, when he wanted to be, Stan was a VERY good lover. He took his time, making sure I was ready before entering me with that foot-long coke can of a cock. When he was inside of me, filling me utterly, he was slow, covering my face with kisses and telling me I was beautiful, telling me how lucky he was to have me, telling me he loved me.
He was big enough that the orgasm was different. I came, but I was stretched too much to squeeze like I usually do. It was an odd sensation.
Finally, sated, I laid back, my hands behind my head, catching my breath.
He rolled over and probed my armpit with his tongue, making me giggle until he suddenly probed at a spot I never realized was erogenous. It was though, and the sudden electric pulse between that spot and my nipples and my clitoris almost made me do a situp.
"JESUS!" I cried when I could breathe again, "where did you learn that?"
He grinned and said, "really wanna know?"
"Of course," I said, turning serious for a second, "I want to know everything about you."
"My Aunt Virginia was a nurse, a bit of a nymphomaniac, and she knew things," he said with a soft chuckle.
"Christ," I said, rolling my eyes, "is it really necessary for a man to be involved in incest to be a good lover?"
At that, he laughed and rolled over and kissed me.
"Becky, bride o' mine, I'm pretty sure that you are making some future wives very happy all on your own," he said.
"Welllllllll," I said, deliberately drawing out the consonant, "I suppose there's something to that."
I rested a bit more and then said, "before I get up, well," and I surprised myself by feeling a blush starting to spread.
"What?" he asked when I hesitated.
I took a deep breath and rolled up onto one elbow to look him in the eye.
"Stan, my love," I said, and kissed him, "you are damn big," I took his cock in my hand, "but I want you to know that if you want to try anal, well, I don't say 'no' to my husbands."
He looked at me speculatively.
"Really?" he said.
So I kissed him again and said, "yes honey, really, but right now I need to shower and check on my other husbands."
"Wash your back?" he asked and I replied, "thought you'd never ask."
It turned out he was a good back washer too. He was thorough and also found a couple of more of those spots that made me jump they felt so damn good. That one he found, just below my tailbone damn near made me cum and then I almost slipped and fell when I jumped and had a fit of giggles.
As it happened he has some special spots of his own. Pinching his nipples made him jerk and when I was on my knees, his foot in my lap, and started doing piggies it was his turn to jump and almost fall.
We survived and in due course, clean, dry, and dressed in my light housedress, about all I wore around the house anymore, we went down the stairs hand in hand to get something to eat.
Everybody was in the great room so we ordered pizza. While we waited I gave pool lessons to many cries of "sandbagger" and "I'm being hustled."
After pizza, beer, and a joint Roger and Davey took control of the television playing something called "Titanfall," a game I did not recognize.
I headed upstairs for some quiet music, a book, and ((giggles)) whoever might show up.
It was a little after 11:00 at night when I heard a knock on my door which was kind of funny since generally whoever was there just walked in.
Aaron stepped in, oddly diffident.
"You realize, do you not," he said, "that you are expected at the meeting tonight."
"Oh," I said, "I didn't realize."
He came over, sat on the edge of the bed, and took my hand.
"Beloved wife," he began in that faux courtly manner he could slip into so easily, "this is kind of new to us too but we are in agreement that you are a full member of the Order," and his use of the word "Order" made me realize how serious he was, "and therefore, should be a full participant in all of our activities."
"Well," I said, smiling, "in my white shift then?"
"Of course," he said and gave me an eyebrow waggle, "and nothing else."
I giggled and grabbed him and pulled him down, kissing him.
"Time for a quickie before the meeting?" I asked.
"Can't sweetheart," he said, laughing and rolling away and off the bed, "gotta get things ready."
So I laid back and thought about it. This, it seemed to me, was a big deal. The only time I had ever been allowed into the sanctum was when I married the Fraternity.
So I relaxed for a while and then decided I'd arrive scrubbed clean for this meeting. No makeup, no jewelry, no underwear (well, not that I wore underwear much anyway). My hair brushed but that's all.
So I scrubbed my face, and brushed my hair, got out the shift, and slipped it over my head.