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Nicks Women Plus Real Ones

By: Egmont0409



CHAPTER 1

Nick Bradshaw received a call from his mother's social secretary. "It's Nina Mr Bradshaw. Your mother wishes to see you at 6:30 today but you are not required to stay for dinner.

"Mean bitch."

"What was that?"

"You heard."

There was a pause until Nina said, "I'm awaiting an apology."

"You ass will turn blue under winter's snow eight month's hence before that's likely. Tell her yes and to send a car." 

Blue-eyed curly blond Nick, with the body of a male model and author of lurid sex novels that had female readers reaching for their toys, terminated the call.

Nick looked down from his turret studio apartment at 6:10 and saw the black limo had arrived. He smiled knowing the chauffer would be seated and almost pissing himself in anxiety that he'd be late delivering Nick for his appointment. Rex would know what to expect from madam if he were late.

A discrete tap at the door brought a smile to Nick's face as he sauntered across to leave.

"Good evening Rex. Thank you for bothering to coming all the way up here."

"I'm Rex's daughter Maine. So you need glasses?"

"Christ you have got old. You introduced me to sex I seem to remember."

"Well at least one of us had sex. It was over so quickly I don't remember actually having sexual connection."

"I probably haven't improved."

"That doesn't surprise me. Hurry, I don't want your mother to removed my cervix for lateness."

"Well give me a call if she does. I'll bridge the gap with my fingers."

"Christ you're still a smart-ass," Maine laughed (she was conceived at the summer house in Maine after her father Rex and the cook Meg found themselves left together one weekend when Nick's mother Muriel was away having a brief affair at sea).

Samuels the butler, son of the butler in Nick's time at growing up in the house, said stiffly, "This way sir. Mrs Bradshaw is in the drawing room waiting for you. We must walk slowly because we are thirty seconds early."

Nick raced ahead and was in the room before the clock chimed. "Good afternoon mommy."

"It's either mother or Mrs Bradshaw. Langley, you remember your son don't you?"

"Of course I do. Good early evening er....Nicholas."

"It's Nick actually."

"Oh yes, how forgetful of me."

"Useless asshole," grumbled Nick, knowing his parents, both in their late fifties wouldn't easily hear him at that distance.

"I saw you on Chamberlain Drive with a street slut yesterday," his mom alleged.

"Pauline is an actress."

"Similar difference I daresay."

Nick thought he couldn't dispute that.

"My offer is this. I want high caliber grandchildren. Produce a woman for my inspection that I approve and then impregnate her and I'll pay you $1,000,000."

"I'll attempt to ensure she bears twins. For that I want $3,000,000."

"We don't have twinning in our families."

"That could be about to change."

"Hmmm," said his mom, playing with her left ear lobe. "$1,500,000."

"Deal. Where's the written agreement?"

"Samuels!"

The butler arrived with the agreement. Both parties signed and Samuels witnessed the signing of the four copies and handed Nick his two copies, one being for his attorney to file.

"Goodbye Nick. You have six months from today to produce the woman I'll approve otherwise this agreement falls null and void. Find your own way out and call a cab."

In twelve weeks Nick produced twelve women for his mom's inspection. She called all twelve sluts to their faces and Nick began developing a bad reputation amongst the city's promiscuous top-shelf women... at least the ones known to be that way inclined. He decided no way would he bother searching in the thirteenth week because that woman would be very unlucky. His mom would probably label her a whore.

On Wednesday evening of that thirteenth week Nick was dining alone in Herman Ahab's Pequod Fish Restaurant when he watched pretty Lucy Litton enter in a party of six and felt the muscles of his ass tighten in desire. He knew Lucy had recently received her PhD in Library Science and Information but hadn't known she was back home. He'd introduced Lucy to sex soon after her high school graduation when he was twenty-four and she swore she'd never forget him. Well that was almost ten years ago; time to put it to the test.

Nick sauntered over to the table, careful not to alarm anyone unduly and said casually, "Hi darling."

Lucy looked at him, blinked and said, "Oh Nick darling."

The thickset guy with her snarled, "Fuck off buster. This is a private party."

"It can't be; this is a public restaurant."

The guy's face turned dark and he pushed back his chair and balled his fists.

"Down Otto," Lucy said. "You are only my brother. This was my first real boyfriend Nick Bradshaw. You are employed by Nick's father."

"Oh, why didn't you say?"

Two of the other women called, "Hello Nick" and fluttered their eyebrows.

"We are celebrating my recent conferment Nick. Would you join us?"

"No, you guys look set for a great time and I'm about to leave. Give me your card and I'll call you sometime."

Lucy handed him her card and whispered, "Make that tomorrow Nick."

Returning to The Turret as Nick called his apartment, although the owners who lacked imagination called it Apartment 29, Nick found a letter in a woman's handwriting that he took upstairs to read. His mother had told him as a young teen how to distinguish between male and female handwriting although Nick was sure gay males and females would probably upset that theory but then it was unlikely his mom had really absorbed what gays were. His mom had about a 100 % chance of being accurate in predicting 'female' because only females wrote to her by hand. Nick knew he was correct in this case because the handwriting was elegant, with curls and other flourishes and beside, the envelope smelt of perfume.

He was unaware that in opening that envelope he'd never date Lucy Litton and take her to his mom to begin earning his one million plus bucks.

Nick smelt the envelope again. It was unlikely cat's pee because how would a cat get into the mailbox. No the manufacturer of the envelopes probably used cheap scent to permeate a strip into the paper to con women into buying the product. He opened the envelope and read the single page, written only on one side.

'Dear Mr Bradshaw'

I take 12th grade girls for English Literature (Romance) at Melrose High School from where you graduated. Already this year I have confiscated twelve copies of your paperbacks from girls reading in my classes instead of learning from me. The other sixteen paperbacks I have confiscated are from various authors. I find this preference for you amazing and am sure my students have no idea you live and write in this city. I know because my mother went to school with your mother but your mother chooses not to remember that.

Please come and discuss your approach to writing to at least one of my classes.

Romantically connected in your love of literature.

Rose (Rosemary) Rousseau.'

Rose had provided her cell phone number. He called and left a message, suggesting why not gather all her romance literature classes in the school auditorium for his address. He'd keep firmly in mind they were 'impressionable' 17 and 18-yearolds.

Intrigued about Rose, his imagination about her roamed from an over-weight geek with glasses to a bisexual with a body to die for, Nick forgot all about Lucy Litton.

Next day there was a letter in his mailbox from Rose. There was no stamp. God she must live close by, perhaps even in his apartment block?

'Dear Mr Bradshaw.

What a wonderful suggestion. I have discussed this with the school principal and Mrs Shultz has suggested we assemble all females at the school and also invite their mothers or female care-givers to attend. Our suggested date is Tuesday the 17th at 9:00. Please be aware that some of our girls are at the giggling age and because of wild hormone flow may find you unbearably attractive. I must say my own hormones stir a little whenever I see you in the supermarket.'

Rose'

Nick couldn't get Rose out of his mind. Fuck the million bucks; he wanted Rose! Er, not the fat or the bi version. He wanted her, well just like an average female would do but if she was up a few notches from that well so much the better. Only then did he shudder, thinking perhaps she was married with thirteen children.

Two days later came the invitation from the school principal inviting Author Bradshaw to address a full assembly of female students along with their female caregivers who attended. He was asked to speak about why do he think his readers liked his heroines.

Harmony Shultz, school principal.'

God Harmony, Nick thought, that would be easy to answer and develop. His readers liked his heroines because they fucked hard, enjoyed it and were good at it.

Nick felt the blood drain from his face. Christ he couldn't say that. Some of the juniors would have only just turned fourteen. The moms would lynch him.

Suddenly he though a couple of week far from the city sounded good, ensuring he'd be a thousand or more miles away around the 17th.

But then he thought coward and figured 'what if' about Rose. He felt almost certain, judging by her handwriting, she would be pretty and elegant.

He pulled out her envelopes and checked the writing and nodded but added, "And with big breasts and great legs."

Oh yeah?

He pulled out a can of beer and spluttered on the first mouthful. What the fuck was he going to tell the kids?"

Um what about the truth but leaving out the sexual bits?

Oh yeah. After finishing the fourth can he went to bed although it was only just after 4:00 in the afternoon. Nick never minded how early he went to bed because he knew when he awoke he'd be fully charge to rip into several chapters of his current draft novel.

* * *

On the 17th Nick awoke at 3:00 am and then 4:10 and then 6.20 and then 8:32.

Holy shit. He'd be late, destroying Rose's faith in him and those dear young girls and their cranky moms would regard him as a piece of donkey's dung.

Nick shaved while showing, had three slugs of whisky, did his hair and grabbed the first draft of his first novel. He flagged down a cab and the cabbie drove on waiting to be given an address.

"Melrose High."

The cabbie grinned and said, "Do up your fly pal otherwise you're not likely to come out of there in one piece."

Nick, rechecking his zip was up, arrived at the school at 9:10 and was pleased to see some tail-ender mothers with their daughters heading for the auditorium.

A mom looking great enough to be a beauty queen asked, "Nick?"

He looked at his watch and told her 9:11."

"No not the time. I'm asking are you Nick Bradshaw?"

She held up the cover of his latest published novel, 'Gwendolyn Covers Her Dark Past'. He grinned and said yeah, that photo was taken eight years ago but publishers like to keep their authors looking young.

"I'm Rose."

"Holy shit," he gaped.

Rose looked down half-terrified as if expecting her boobs had fallen loose.

"Y-you're beautiful."

"That's just good make-up. Come on we must dash."

She took his hand and they raced to the auditorium.

"Stay there," she hissed, in the wings. "Next time be on time."

She fronted the packed hall. "Ladies and our young women of tomorrow, thank you for coming to listen to our famous author resident in this city, Mr Nick Bradshaw."

She turned to him and smiled. Nick smiled back.

Rose frowned and Nick thought that wasn't fair because he hadn't been staring at her chest.

Rose beckoned and Nick realized she wanted him on stage.

He walked out pretending to be zipping up.

Rose looked horrified and then showed astonishment when the auditorium boomed in laughter.

"Sorry I was taken short," Nick apologized. "Was writing through the night and just had time to shower and shave before coming here. Forgot to pee."

There was another howl of laughter.

"I was late to give you latecomers time to get in here before I began. I didn't want you ladies earning demerit points from your daughter's teachers. Thanks Rose for inviting me here. Isn't she beautiful?"

There was huge applause.

"I base my heroine's on women who look a lot like Rose."

More applause.

"Where Principal Shultz? I base my dark ladies on women who look like school principals."

By then Mrs Shultz was standing.

"But I base the heroine's mother on school principals who look as elegantly attractive as Mrs Shultz."

Mrs Shultz blew Nick a kiss and she sat down.

"I've been asked to discuss why I think women like my heroines."

"Actually it wouldn't surprise me if male readers like them even better."

"You see I've never had a heroine who treasurers the so-called American Way and is as predicable and delicious as her mom's freshly baked apple pie."

"No, my heroines are just that... heroines. They are prepared to kick male butt when necessary and accept no nonsense from their girlfriends. My heroines represent what I perceive is a American young woman of today and likely would puke if being caught in the pages of a typical romance novel. If she's hit she expects to bleed and be bruised, and if it's a bad time for her she tells her amorous partner she's menstruating and if the boss places a hand on her butt she says if doesn't intend arriving home that night with discolored testicles then he should leave his hand right there and accept the consequences of a well-directed kick."

"My heroines are real, upfront women."

Nick paused and the auditorium boomed with applause.

"What about sex?" yelled a mom.

"Ma'am, what I know and could write about sex wouldn't fill half a page in a paperback."

Nick's readers screamed in laughter. They were familiar with page after page of erotically described sexual action.

"Now girls, I'm not saying you have to strive in life to attain all the qualities of fictitious heroines because readers of fiction are presented with an amalgam or perhaps I should say mix of women invented in the author's mind. She probably will have the great legs of Mrs Smith who serves fish in the supermarket, the lush lips of the local mayor's wife, the heaving breasts on the horse that won the 400-yard sprint at the racetrack, the hair from the mane of the same horse, and its dark eyes and the backside of the school bus but seen from the distance of course."

Much laughter.

"No girls even if you get to possess even just one very desirable physical traits consider yourself very lucky. But no matter how you look there are other things about my heroines that appeal to my readers and you'll possess at least some of them to develop. I speak of honesty, integrity, affection, humor, a steely backbone and yet humility or sympathy to display when needed. Whether you possess high or not so high intelligence you can come to deeply respect with understanding how people are, how they fit together and how people can make communities really work or they are so bad they can tear communities apart. As you grow older you'll become more and more aware of these forces that are known as human dynamics."

"Now what do my heroines do that you girls do not do or should not do at the age of most of you? Come on, let's have suggestions. Be careful what you say."

"Drive a car."

"Yes and you?"

"Marry."

Laughter.

"Great answer. And you""

"Hold down a fulltime job."

"Very astute. Yes please?"

"Have sex."

"I hope everyone had their ears closed then. And finally you young lady."

"Go half the day to the gym and the other half to the beauty parlor with coffee with friends in between and then go to bars at night."

"Ah, you sound like one of my regular readers."

"I try to vary how my heroines act and what they say. I imagine my regular readers attempt to identify such differences and even to anticipate in which direction I'll head with this particular heroine. That is called reading between the lines and if I'm able to satisfy readers who read between the lines, tantalize them and draw them back to my central theme and then they learned what they correctly predicted several chapters back they think they are very clever and like me for being clever enough to almost deceive them. Those of you who go on to college or university and study writing will learn about such skills when studying storyline structure. It's similar to putting flesh on bones. I believe almost anyone can write a bare-bone novel but will they find a publisher and if they do will the book find sufficient readership to justify it's publication?"

"Now this is a museum article, er from my personal museum. It is the first draft of the first novel I had published. I sent it all told to seventeen publishers. Two of those publishers said it was promising; the other fifteen did not bother to send my draft back although supplied with a self-addressed envelope with sufficient postage attached."

"In frustration I could have given up and returned to university for a higher degree or become a coal miner as my grandfather did. But fortunately I was aged twenty-four and was having regular sex with a lovely young woman of my age who wept at my disappointment at receiving that seventeenth rejection. That told me something about heroines... they stick by their man although that young woman did go off and marry a guy who managed a pre-owned vehicle lot. But I get ahead of myself. Marion went to the father of a guy she went to college with who was the publisher of textbooks. The guy read my script over the weekend and liked it, sent it with his endorsement to a pal who published fiction and lo, I got back this initial draft with all these markings in red on it."

"Hello, what was this I asked? And Marion with her baby blue eyes and cupid smile said, "Make those changes marked in read and send the clean manuscript to Barton Publishers and they will published your book."

"I said go on."

"Marion said was true."

"I said stop teasing me and she gave me the letter from Barton's publishing editor to read."

"Ohmigod, I said. You little beauty. How can I reward you?"

"Marion flicked those baby blue eyes on to me and advanced towards me. My heart raced. 'Lock the door' I gasped and the rest shall remain unsaid."

"Aw," yelled some students and mothers.

"Yes ma'am?"

"I have read every novel you have written and that makes me a regular reader. I have crossed-index everything of moment in my mind. In 'Miss Jacobson, Private Eye', your second novel, on page seventy-six you have Marion Jacobson flickering those baby blue eyes on to Grayson Summers and as he rips apart his shirt buttons he wheezes, 'Lock the door Marion'. Am I correct in believing you were reliving your time with Marion you spoke of earlier?"

"Er yes but Grayson is a fictional character although he did assume my memory for that one scene."

"I admire the way you treat women in your novels Nick, tell us about it."

Nick looked at the principal. "Mrs Shultz?"

"Please proceed Nick but carefully, remembering some of these girls here are only fourteen."

Nick wiped his forehead with his handkerchief. "Hands up anyone who doesn't know what is meant by having sex?"

Not a single hand was raised.

"Ah that makes it a little easier for me," he sighed, drawing laughter.

"Well the thing that never changes in any of my novels is my hero and my heroine always respect each other although in the heat of the moment during a torrid scene the heroine might slap the hero and in two novels the hero slapped her back but then they are always instantly mortified and say sorry and ask forgiveness. Because of the strong relationships I develop between hero and heroine, forgiveness and by that I mean true forgiveness is only moments away."

"When they prepare to have sex they don't go at it like a bull at a gate. Remember my youngest hero was twenty-two at the start of the novel and the youngest heroine 20. So they are always adults and think and act like adults. Please understand that."


Nicks Women Plus Real Ones



"They begin by kissing and it rarely advances beyond that UNLESS the heroine signals she wants a little more action and whether she wants more it is up to her initiating it. On the three occasions when the guy had to initiate everything, that was because the heroine really had no clue just how good and desirable this new guy in her life was. He figured the only way of convincing her was to seduce her slowly, carefully and with great dignity, yet always leaving her free to break out of what was going on."

"So you see there are elements of premeditation with my heroes. They have no wish to be brutal, hurtful or uncaring in any way and that is all I can say about this and ends my presentation. Thank you."

The presentation had lasted just under the stipulated hour so when the applause died Rose stepped forward and thanked Nick and presented him with a novel that turned out to be written in French.

Rose took him off stage to the dressing rooms and playfully asked, "Do you require another toilet stop?"

"No thank you," Nick said, not realizing what the tease was about. He opened the package and said, "Oh this is in French but I don't speak French."

"Well I do and fluently and translate well. I suppose I'll have to read it to you."

Nick looked at her chest and then looked up into her amused smoky gray eyes. "Does that mean a date?"

Rose laughed carefully and brushing her hair back caught his attention. She said yes it would be a date if he were used to being read to on dates. "It is 320 pages so that translates into several dates I guess."

Nick said slyly, "Will your boyfriend snort about that?"

"I am between male friends intent on intimacy at the moment."

"Ah I sense subterfuge."

"Mr Bradshaw are you accusing a lady of subterfuge?"

Nick smirked. "Oh no, I could make no such accusation against you providing you are a lady."

Rose pouted and said he was funny and clever. "Come to dinner tomorrow evening and I'll assess whether you are suitable to date. I will examine your table manners and dealing with older people respectfully because I live with my parents and they will be there. May I ask why so you stare at my breasts so regularly?"

"They are of a size and shape that screams for further study and therefore being a conscientious student I feel obliged to make such preliminary assessment."

"How the hell can I rebuff that response?"

This sudden emergence of directness from Rose startled Nick. "Y-you weren't meant to."

"Oh, that leaves me relieved."

Mrs Shultz came into the dressing room.

"Oh I'm so glad you two appear to be hitting it off. Rose needs a man like you Mr Bradshaw. Mr Bradshaw would you please come with me. There are about seventy mothers or female care-givers lined up to get your autograph or for you to sign one of your books they have with them."

"Right. What is the address and time Rose?"

"Apartment 1 in the block where you live. Six-thirty and my parents will expect you to be dressed semi-formally."

"I take it your mother likes flowers and your father appreciates wine?"

"Yes red wine, preferably French."

Nick thanked her and left with Mrs Shultz who said he was not to worry if Rose appeared a little over-eager to be seduced. 

"Rose has been working long hours editing a draft novel her late paternal grandmother wrote in French and then proofing the pages as they came from the printer. The first copies came off the press two days ago and you are in possession of one. So for more than six months Rose has had no social life, meaning there has been no man in her life."

"Right I understand. Actually that suggests a plot for a novel."

"That's why I expressed it in that manner Mr Bradshaw; to interest you. Have you noticed the color of Rose's eyes?"

"Yes they are olive green."

"Oh very good. None of your heroines has ever had olive green eyes."

"You've read my books?"

"Oh yes Mr Bradshaw, I began reading you when your fourth book was published and got copies of the earlier three and have purchased each one since then. Like you I like your heroines being intelligent, articulate and hungry for sex. Thank you for not mentioning the phrase 'hungry for sex' to my students today."

Nick returned home very thoughtful. Through newspaper and radio interviews and articles and being interviewed and a guest on panels on TV he knew some people in the city would know he wrote romance novels he'd assume not many Hayton City would buy his books. Wrong. He'd been surprised that so many of those mothers who books he'd signed at the school had said many of their friends loved his books or admired him as a writer. He was nowhere near being at the level of a top selling author and he never expected to attain such acclaim. Usually in the romance genre only beautiful female authors who almost reeked of sex won such accolades. He wondered if more of his books would sell if his published promoted him extensively.

The thought of Rose McLeod then filled his mind. God he'd felt her repressed sexiness. She appeared to have it all... body, looks, manner, personality, intelligence, humor, striking eyes. He could go on an on. Great boobs, great butt and great legs... she seemed almost too perfect. Was she a Vampire? Nick sighed and thought it would be just his luck. He would be about to sink into her and bang, she'd strike and dig fangs into the side of his neck and say, "Oh you are turning rather pale Nick. Are you feeling okay? If you are feeling off-color we best skip sex."

Nick grinned at that boo-boo. How could she talk while sinking her fangs into him? Yeah Nick Bradshaw lives! It must only be her dress ring cutting into his throat or a razor?

Shit.

Nick then wondered if her parents would watch him fuck their daughter tomorrow night. He sighed. This was his trouble; he had a too vivid imagination. It kept him awake at nights. He would wake up and hear a faucet dripping, or think he heard a faucet dripping. Then the drain would gurgle. Then he'd remember he had faucets with special ceramic innards that meant they never dripped. So someone had turned the faucet on in an attempt to drown him by flooding the apartment. Who was it? The cat! 

Oh Christ, the fucking cat he'd forgotten to feed it. All that howling was because its dinner hadn't arrived on time or arrived late. He'd get up, kick a toe on the dresser and go to find the cat. So he'd stand there scratching his balls wondering when he found it should he wake it or let it continue sleeping because when it awoke in the morning it would have forgotten it had been fed the previous night. But it was a female cat so couldn't be expected to think logically like that. He'd go back to bed with cold feet and stay awake because his feet were cold. God it was a wonder he ever got round to writing sense or what masqueraded as sense. And why did he think all this nonsense?

Nick would yawn, ending his sleep walking and would sleep soundly.

Nick didn't have a cat.



CHAPTER 2

Nick awoke late next morning so went for his usual two-mile walk at a time when kids were walking to his old school. Girls kept calling out to him, "Hi Nick" and waving and some of their fathers walking with them turned to look rather menacing at Nick.

Closer to the school, five fifteen year olds or thereabouts yelled "Hi Nick" and a youngish woman walking towards him took off her shoulder bag and swung it, catching the side of his head and making him yelp.

"Take that you dirty lecher," she snarled.

Nick turned left at the next street and walked straight into two mothers chatting. They grabbed him and kissed him and thanked him for the wonderfully stimulating address he'd delivered the previous day."

Nick managed to get to the diner without further assault. Betty the day manager whom he'd known for five years and she was old enough to be his mother, came over with coffee and smirked, "I hear you have been giving sex lessons to young school kids." 

He threw up his hands in despair, knocking his coffee out of Betty's hand.

"Watch it buster, there's no need to grope me," she grinned. "You prefer your women unused."

Nick almost died in embarrassment.

"Sit down Betty."

She sat and he told her about his school presentation.

"Well that's so typical of rumors, getting it all wrong," she said.

Nick stayed home all day. The streets of the city were not safe for him.

He dug into a cupboard holding odd bottles of what he called Frog and Italian wines and found one that had a fancy sounding name. He hoped it didn't taste like vinegar.

He went across the street to buy flowers and a kid standing beside a man said, "Hi Nick."

The guy said, "Stay away from my daughter sexo."

"I don't know your daughter from a bar of soap."

"Are you implying my daughter is common?"

"Daddy he's the guy mommy told you about. He talked to us about sex."

"Oh the author. My Katie was so sexed up last night I got it all ways and which way. Thanks pal. Here take this big bunch. I'll pay for this bunch also Mrs Norris. "

Rose's mother, who was quite a fading beauty. answered the door and kissed Nick on the mouth when thanking him for the flowers. The father was a bit of a shocker.

Nick handed him the bottle of Ducru Beaucaillou 2001 (St Julien) and Jacques examined the bottle intently and asked, "Where did you get this from?" in a tone that perhaps suggested Nick had stolen it.

"From an admirer sir."

Jacques bellowed in laughter and said, "Then you must have got something very much more precious from that female admirer, yes?"

"Yes," Nick said and pretended to understand the joke.

"I put this beautiful gift in my cellar, yes?"

"Whatever. It's been a couple of years in the laundry cupboard."

"Standing up yes?" his host frowned.

"No sitting down," Nick joked and when Jacques said, "Are you mean laying flat eh, like a woman?"

"Yes," Nick said, wondering how a woman had gotten into a conversation about wine.

Jacques nodded approvingly and disappeared with the bottle he carried reverently, er like a woman stretched out waiting for it.

Rose appeared in front of him, her tits all but bursting out of her tight dress, and she kissed him.

"My father certainly approves of you and my mother thinks you are also a big spender on flowers. She invites you to call her Lisa. You don't know the price and quality of that wine do you?"

"I have no idea."

"It is a special occasion wine, a very special occasion wine for the likes of my father."

Nick explained he had a whole cupboard of red wine people had given him. He mainly drank white wine. "They lie flat like a woman."

"I'm afraid the significance of that remark escapes me."

"Me too. You'll have to ask your father. He brought it up."

"That will be something he thought in French but it got tangled in translation when he expressed it in English."

"Do bottles of wine lie like women?"

"I have no idea. So I suppose there's a story about the flowers."

"Yes I didn't pay for them."

"You gave my mother stolen flowers?"

"No, no. You've got it wrong. Could I have a drink?"

"Yes of course, how rude of me. But we pour only red wine in this house."

"That's fine. I'll tell you what happened to me today and it will take some time so I can look at your breasts while you're drinking and I'm relating my story."

"I can take them out for you if that would please you."

Caught be surprise Nick said, "Will your parents watch us fuck?"

Rose told him not to be so disgusting. 'You claimed yesterday when speaking about your heroes they took it slowly with women?"

"Oh god, I do. Now that raises another story about my thinking process."

Nick was handed the red wine, he looked at Rose's breasts and knew she loved that. 

When he finished she said she thought it was a wonderful story and kissed him and pulled one of his hands over her ass. "I love the thought of those students thinking you are the oracle of sex."

Nick felt a little faint but Rose pushed him to the dinning room when her mom, who had orange hair from a hair dye that had gone wrong, called, "Dinner everyone and that includes you Jacques." 

Nick the author imagined Jacques emerging from the cellar where he'd acted unconsciously like an artful masturbator, having with closed eyes stroked bottles of wine positioned on their backs like women.

Good god, what a thing to think of one's host and not knowing the guy!

After a very rich main meal and a desert designed to make mountains out of women who consumed more than a morsel of it, everyone helped clear away. Lisa and Jacques then smiled at him and disappeared. Rose sat him on the leather sofa after dimming the lights and explained, "They have practically wall to wall television in their bedroom. They will not disturb us."

Won't be disturbed? So Rose was set to pull her tits out for him?

They sat like Mickey and Minnie in a retirement home for Hollywood legends.

Nick felt his neck thickening although wearing a polo without the buttons fastened. He knew Rose knew he wrote extensively about heroes, empowering them in the art of seduction, so why has he sitting beside her and almost quivering?

He thought her shoulders would be the safest part to place his arm on her so put it there and waited expectedly.

Nothing.

Nick became afraid he might begin to sweat. New women hated men who sweated but after a few shaftings they appeared to adapt. At least he knew that much.

God was that sweat on his brow.

Then a miracle. Rose turned her face towards him and lifted it and whispered, "Kiss me."

Bingo.

They were away, although nothing to write home to mom about.

They kissed and after what seemed two hours but probably was twenty minutes she finally opened her mouth.

Simply delicious.

He worked on swallowing continuously to prevent himself from drooling and then was relief to find she was drooling.

Finally she pulled away, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and said solemnly, "You want to see my tits don't you?"

Oh bravo; she was prepared to call them tits! He nodded in imbecilic silence, his brain and jaw locked.

Rose reached behind to undo her bra and that action pushed her boobs forward pointedly. Nick worried he was now drooling like a minor waterfall.

Then she stopped and settled back.

Ohmigod she was expecting him to dig them out.

Nick the hero on paper stiffened, er his resolve stiffened, and lifted up her top and miraculously Rose's arms went straight up, she lifted her back off the sofa slightly and the top came away entirely, leaving him staring at just the sweetest apricot and lace bra that appeared to be doing the impossible by holding in so much bloat.

Bloat?

God what was he thinking? He meant some of the most desirable human flesh known to man.

"Don't you like them?" Rose asked anxiously.

Bang.

Nick struck like a cobra. Right into their midst, lifting up apricot and lace to curl his tongue round a very upright nipple.

"Oh god, fuck me," wailed Rose, a hand jammed over her mouth.

Her legs opened like an automated garage door, except the direction was sideways. 

Rose wore no panties. She told him later she didn't want him fumbling, expecting him to be nervous with a new woman although he was an acknowledged authority on delivering brilliant seductions. Nick would marvel that women could fill their heads with romantic notions without requiring justification.

He went to plunge in his tongue but Rose held her hand against his forehead. "No I don't indulge in oral until I really like my partner."

Oh no, she didn't like him.

"Just insert your secret weapon."

Huh, who was the author here? That wasn't a bad line Rose. Oh yeah, she hadn't seen it exposed or felt its outline. At present it would be a secret to her. Good girl Rose.

"Ohmigod is all that for me?"

Obviously the lights weren't down all that dimly.

Nick watched bug-eyed as Rose the princess spat into her hand and lubed her opening, still staring at the head of his cock as if she were a guy looking at tits.

Obviously Rose hadn't had a girlfriend's hand pushed into her otherwise she'd know this was no threat to her. Nick pushed in slowly, their foreheads together as they both watched one of the most inspiring events in the universe, um at least on a personal basis.

"Ohmigod." Rose marveled as it continued to slip in. She must have previously only encountered short guys.

Then Nick was fully docked. "How was that?" he asked proudly.

"Awesome. Fucking awesome."

Was that word women appeared to hate from the lips of his Rose?

She was taking a risk, not asking him to wear a condom. He preferred it without although he packed some. It was up to the women to express her preference just as it was her responsibility to be protected if the guy went in undressed. Fuck the hard-nosed fat women with glasses and a socialist upbringing who thundered on about 'collective responsibility'. Collective responsibility applied, he'd agree with that, but not about whether the woman wanted a guy to wear a rubber or whether she wanted to protect herself against pregnancy. People were individuals and so were their lifestyles, mostly, so let's not mess up the scheme of things with dogma aimed as the dilution of personal responsibility. Down with dictators!

"Aren't you going to start?" Rose asked.

Embarrassed Nick began like a train on a slippery track, knowing the best way was to just begin rolling and inching forward with just a twitch to increase momentum until the wheels could be seen to move ever-so slowing to increase the first revolution; the second revolution of the wheels took fractionally less time to accomplish and so on.

Jesus, what was that?

As the pain raced beyond his chest he looked down to find Rose swinging off his right nipple by her teeth.

Fuck the slow freight train theory. He slammed into her, rattling her bones, er theoretically.

That freed his nipple. Her head went back, her mouth open cavernously and she groaned from miles deep within... "Ohmigod, how heavenly."

Relieved he was doing something right, meeting expectations, Nick grinned and Rose finishing her primeval gasp caught the look and said almost in surprise, "God you are so handsome."

Nick felt his dick thickened and probably she did as well.

Perhaps inspired by that finding or more likely taken over by her sensitivity centers, Rose began pushing in to him as Nick came forward and eventually he was grateful to see beads of sweat on her. Oh lo this was beyond his expectation; Rose sweated, er perspired!

Rose fingers dug into his back and her pussy was being used as if attempting to squeeze his dick to half its thickness as she, even if unaware of it, attempted to milk his semen. Nick knew what was expected of him and launched himself to become a runaway train, roaring down slopes, across bridged ravines and..."

Christ he hoped the parents had their TV up loud or they might think he was hurting their daughter with her screaming that loudly. Rose bucked and hit out at him, her face contorted and her body convulsed repeatedly and then tiredly she squeezed his balls and said, "Come on" and Nick groaned and slammed a load into her and rested, still jerking lesser flows into her.

Nick like to think about the exchange of juices but didn't talk about it anymore after finding that talk tended to make many women puke. They liked to think they didn't sweat, they didn't bite shoulders and then didn't gush or whatever in more minor ways comprised their climatic ending.

"You can really fuck."

What? Who said that?

Rose slipped out from under him, made easier because Nick was now kneeling on the floor.

Rose had said that? He managed, "You were great, and I mean that. You have a really lively pussy."

She smiled and kissed him, wiping sweat off her face.




Nicks Women Plus Real Ones



"You are a bit too powerful for me; I'm bushed and am off to bed. Come on get yourself out the door."

"You don't want another one; I mean after a bit of a rest?"

"Christ no," Rose yawned and wiped sweat from between her breasts.

Nick licked his lips.

Nick no. And I mean that. Off you go."

She waddled to the door with him, her top stuffed between her legs.

"There was little romance about that," she said as his finished dressing at the door. "But as far as a good fuck goes I'd give that almost a ten."

"What out of twenty."

"No ten you fool," she said, pressing her head against his chest and yawning. "Should we go steady?"

"Yeah why not?"

"Oh thank you Mr Romance Writer. I shall always remember your very unromantic, pragmatic reply."

They had five big kisses before she finally had him out the door and closed it. What appealed to Nick was thinking yes she would have had at least one more round had they been in bed and should could then roll away from him to fall asleep.

He went out to the street to wave down a cab and only then remembered he lived in the same building. Nick thought he'd write to dawn, sharing the sweet thoughts now in free motion in his head. But bed looked inviting and he sank on to the mattress. Nick had this glorious erotic thought of attempting to work into Rose's unbelievably small pussy and she looking wild-eyed and encouraging him, expressing milk and coating his dick with it. Slipping into sleep he wondered if he should tell Rose about that when she called in the morning.

But Rose didn't call.

Three days went by and each morning on his exercise run Nick returned waves and calls from students and he noticed some of the local residents who initially had looked at him darkly were now calling him Nick and some of the fathers walking with their daughters began calling, "We must have a beer Nick."

God what was happening here? He was becoming urbanized.

Betty at the diner now gave him free coffee and that morning had asked because he was an acknowledged sex consultant, could he talk to her seventeen-year-old because she was depressed about boys appearing not to notice her.

"Yes of course Betty. Get her in her Saturday morning at 9:30 and I want you sitting in the booth with us."

"God no, I never talk sex in front of anyone."

"We won't be talking about sex; I know that for sure."

"Then what will you talk about?"

"I have no idea until I meet your daughter."

Betty sniffed and said, "Call yourself a consultant."

Rose called that evening. Neither of them said anything about waiting to be called.

"Hi darling. Now that we've had sex I can call you darling, right?"

"Sure, it's recommended for folk that are intimate."

"Oooh, and what will you call me?"

"Sexy, dripping with it in fact."

"Um Nick, women are not fond of hearing men using words like dripping when talking about sex."

"Oh at other times I shall call you darling but not in front of other people, at least not just yet."

"Oooh so when?"

"When people we know acknowledge we are a couple."

"Oooh, I love the sound of that. Will you take me rowing on the lake Saturday?"

"Why are you thinking of drowning me?"

"Nick! Boating on the lake is something young lovers do."

"Oh yes, of course I'll do that with you. I am consulting mid morning. I'll come to you after that."

"I wasn't aware you were a consultant. A consultant on what?"

"Er writing."

"You don't sound certain about that."

"And um social issues."

"Oh good but there is no need to turn shy with me when talking about your desire to discharge social responsibility."

Nick the reluctant sex consultant went into the diner. Betty was already waiting with coffee and bacon and egg bagels. She nervously introduced her daughter Begonia who politely and very formerly greeted Nick.

"Begonia are you aware what this is about?"

"I think so. Mother appears confused but she did say she told you I wish to be noticed by guys."

"For what purpose?"

Begonia looked away, flushing and moaning oh god.

"Dating?"

She turned back to him in surprise. "How did you guess that?"

"It's part of growing up. Are your parents against you dating?"

"I have no idea. They've not been tested because I am never asked to go our with guys."

"Take off your glasses Bee."

"Who?"

"Tell your friends and teachers they are now to call you Bee."

Bee took off her glasses.

"Now put on your mother's glasses and untie your pig-tails."

"Ohmigod, Betty said, blinking. "Go into the staff room and look in the mirror."

Bee alias Begonia came back smiling. "You're not getting these glasses back mom although I can scarcely see anything through them."

"We'll get you new glasses."

"Good move Betty," Nick said. "But make sure you stay out of the frames selection process. Just allow the consultant and Bee make the decisions and only express your opinion, your fair-minded opinion, if asked for it and remembering the frames are not for you."

Betty nodded and said it was astonishing Nick knew so much. "I'm not sure about Begonia calling herself Bee."

"Just get used to it Betty and tell your husband that as well. In ten days you won't remember ever calling Bee Begonia."

Nick then talked to Bee about not being embarrassed about blushing and that some young guys actually thought young women blushing was cute.

"Cutely embarrassing you mean."

"I do not. They want eye contact when in conversation with you. If you blush and turn away; they take that as a soft rejection, meaning it's not quite as bad as you walking away from them. We humans hinge our relationship with other people on eye contact. We trust or reject people through eye contact. You also need new clothes and have your hair cut and dye-streaked to look fashionable, that is if your parents can afford it and your school allows students to have their hair dyed."

"Yes we are allowed to, in moderation. But I don't know what to ask for?"

"Go with your mother to a salon and get your hair styled together, listening to what the consultant says but using your own judgment as well and don't end up with the same styling."

"My hair is fine," Betty snorted.

"It's not mother, it's drab."

"Call you mother mom Bee. She's right Betty. I bet your hair is little different to what it was ten perhaps twenty years ago. What kind of fashion statement is that?"

"Fashion is fad."

"I agree so take a more moderate line for yourself but let Bee choose."

"I'm not sure I like the name Bee."

"Tough."

"Nick you are here as a consultant, not to be rude to me."

"Part of changing Bee requires change in you Betty. If you are comfortable remaining conservative that's fine, but allow your daughter the freedom to express herself. For Christ sake Betty, a seventeen-year-old with an attractive body in pigtails and horn-rim glasses... it's a wonder she even has girlfriends."

"I'm recognized as being very intelligent and great at sport."

"Great, there you go. Give Bee a hundred bucks to buy cosmetics if you can afford it Betty and close your eyes to what she buys because they are not for you. Go to the beauty department at Macy's Bee and get free instruction before you buy and they heed advice you think is good. Go for the good but reasonably inexpensive lines until you are earning good money and then go top shelf."

Nick smiled and patted her cheek. "That's me finished Bee."

She said in surprise, "But what about advice on talking to guys."

"You don't need my advice on that. Listen to your girlfriends talking to guys and you may find it's not rocket science. A good tip is to find out what guys are interested in. Even I know females have to make sacrifices when communicating with guys. My final tip is be good-looking and be your natural self. There's nothing really wrong with you that I can see Bee. Think confidence and think you're looking as good as you can be and something will happen, not overnight, but it will happen. Believe me Bee."

"You call that consulting. I was prepared to pay you three hundred bucks Nick to stock your booze cabinet but think that is way too much."

"I don't want your money Betty. You and I are friends purely because of our regular association in here. That's all it takes to make friends."

"Mom you don't know what you are talking about. I think you ought to be paying Mr Bradshaw at least five thousand bucks. I know it. I'm thinking of what he has been saying. I feel ready for lift off. Don't believe me mom; just watch what is about to happen. Come on, let's see if we can get into a hairdresser's and then visit an optician's."

Nick laughed. "Go on Betty. You have the weekend off. Shop with your kid and love her. You won't have to do anything else but worry when you realize you suddenly have young guys calling at your place. Just don't expect that to happen tomorrow."

* * *

"Oh Nick, please come in," said Rose's beaming mother. 

Calling him Nick so freely and welcoming him so warmly told Nick Rose had told her mom that they were becoming a couple.

"You look pretty today Lisa?"

Nick thought she would smile at the compliment but she pouted and said, "From that I take it you think I might not always look pretty""

"No not, Not at all. I..." Nick caught the teasing smile.

He grinned and said he thought he'd rather like her and she beamed.

Rose came out and her gaped. She was in white and her long brunette hair had been cut and curled all over. She looked good enough to eat.

"See mom, I told you Nick would admire women who make the effort."

Nick shuffled, realizing both women had been watching for his reaction.

He sniffed. God how revolting to sniff. He had to recover and damn quickly. "I'd love being locked in a tower for a month with you princess."

Nick watched Lisa grab the dining table for support and Rose stared at him luminously.

Luminously?

Well yes. Her face glowed and her eyes sparkled. It's a pity women don't like being told they glow, especially the facial skin. Such a pity. It makes them look beautiful, perhaps near virginal.

"That is dangerous talk Nick," Rose said, making Lisa cackle away.

Lisa poured them coffee. 

As they were leaving Lisa touched Nick's arm and he turned to her. 

"Jacques and I have talked about this. We have never seen Rose this happy with a man before and we have told her this. You are welcome to stay with her in her bedroom whenever you wish."

"Thank you Lisa. I regard that as one of the biggest compliments I could ever receive from a young woman's parents."

"Ohmigod," Lisa said, clutching her throat.

* * *

Nick tore into his new novel, rewriting parts of it. He had the hero boating with the heroine on the lake and her mom yearning to have a piece of him. The rewritten sex scenes virtually reached flashpoint. Nick almost wondered if his laptop would explode due to excessive heat.

Nick sent ten chapters off to the publisher and two days later his editor called saying she didn't think they could publish what she was being asked to edit.

But Nick has faith in himself and believed he knew what his readers would accept. He hadn't written porn. He'd just written about ordinary sex in a super-heated manner.

He advised his editor, "I suggest you refer your misgivings to Mr Barton Snr and give him the chapters to read."

"I can't do that. That's exceeding my authority. The senior editor is my boss."

"Fuck Janice, just do it. I have faith in you. I'm telling you Mr Barton won't kick your ass. He regards me as his find of the decade."

"I can't believe what I'm hearing. You used the F-word on me."

"Janice just return my chapters. I'll take them to another publisher."

"You can do that; I'd be fired."

"So what is the solution Janice darling? Just use that pretty head of yours. Bye."

Two days later Nick received an email: 'You smart-fucker. Mr Barton Snr is raving about your work and complimented me for sharing your more intense new style with him. He promised to advance an extra $30,000 on the promotion of this book. Your favorite editor, Janice. Come up and see me sometime darling.' 

* * *

Rose came to inspect Nick's turret studio apartment because they were talking about moving in together.

"Oh god no, this is too small."

"Well I'm sorry but I feel I write well here so have no intention of giving it up."

"I don't mind being fucked here but I couldn't live here."

"I appreciate that. I'll talk to your mother about paying a weekly amount to eat with you guys and to sleep some nights with you in her house."

"I'd be agreeable to that. You've seen the size of my study where I do school preparation work and marking. I need that space."

"Sure, not problem. Sit down and we'll crack a bottle of wine. I want to tell you something."

Nick told Rose about his contract with his mother and she was appalled.

He said, "So you don't wish to buy into it?"

"No, definitely not."

"If you change your mind let me know. The contract ends in eleven days. We could use the money to buy the big apartment immediately below my turret."

"No."

"May we fuck now?"

"No... er sorry, I meant yes."

Twelve days later a courier arrived with a document from Nick's mom's attorney. Requiring a signature from him accepting the contract with him mother had ended and he'd neither dispute it nor seek an extension.

Nick sighed and signed and gave the courier a tip of ten bucks for waiting.

That night he had dinner with Rose's family under their new arrangement. It went very well. Lisa was a great cook but when Nick was congratulating her for the magnificent food Lisa said proudly, "Your Rose did everything that came to this table this evening."

Jacques said he did the wine unaided.

"It was a banquet," Nick proclaimed. "Rose you are a great chef."

She colored hugely and nodded thanks. Nick felt he could really love her.

They went to Rose's bedroom that was at the opposite end of the apartment to her parent's room.

As Nick was tenderly undressing Rose she said, "You gave me goose pimples saying you liked my cooking; you were so expressive."

"Well it's true."

"A woman expects to be a great cook for her husband. Oh god, sorry. I meant for her lover."

"You did not."

"Did so."

"I don't believe you."

Rose, almost in tears, said, "Please say you appreciate it was a Freudian slip."

"Yes I can accept that. No harm has been done. Now what has made your panties damp."

"I'm excited with the new regime we now have in place. I think it will work wonderfully well and mom will love having an extra mouth to feed, especially you because you express yourself so appreciatively. I guess you know by now my mom is half in love with you."

"Yes."

"God how can you be so cool about that?"

"Because I take it as a sublime compliment and know in my heart neither she nor I will do anything about it." 

"That relaxes me."

"I'm not a mother-fucker Rose."

"That declaration relaxes me ever more than knowing you are no longer under contract to your mother."

Nick eased off the panties and looked at the stocking encased legs and felt his dick harden.

Rose said, "I have two things to discuss right now. What do you think about me coming off the pill?"

"What to get pregnant to me?"

"Yes. I can't stop thinking about it."

"Well I can't think of any objection and I'd promise to..."

"You would not face any resultant responsibility unless you chose to accept it. This is entirely my decision. I have no wish to miss the best years of parenthood."

"Fair enough. Then do it. What was the other thing?"

"This is not connected with what we just discussed but I'm ready to have full-on oral sex with you. Um if that's what you want."

"Yes I do. I love you Rose.

"Oh god."



CHAPTER 3

Nick knew that for a number of reasons he no longer dwelled on, Rose possessed the best pussy he'd ever come across and she'd often stoked his dick and passed compliments. He'd missed having oral sex but knew the time would come when the embargo would be lifted. This was it.

If he and Rose stayed together for a long while their sex life would ultimately fade until ending into nothing. But they had established solid mutual interests and providing they worked on it their affection for one another would never die.

Nick licked down Rose's stocking leg.

"Oh god. That should be yuk but instead it's delicious.

"Good for me too hon," Nick said, not sure whether he was talking about licking or the exciting odor of her arousal.

Rose was on her back on the bed. He came up between her legs, licking and sucking and the legs parted. Rose was really great opening her legs wide. Really great. She appeared programmed to do it.

Nick looked up and saw the neat and fat pussy lips, slight moisture escaping, stimulated no doubt by his licking elsewhere.

"Ohmigod, I can't stand it. Lick my cunt lover boy."

Cunt?

Wow, this was bedroom talk at its best, and remarkably from Rose!

Nick flicked his tongue at the gate to the garrison.

Rose pushed her hands down and opened the gates, spreading for him.

He licked and sniffed and puffed and sucked and Rose gurgled, a most beautiful sound for a man who's been told he's doing good, er well.

Rose lifted her butt high. With the anus in front of his nose Nick licked it.

"Oh god Nick, I'm not sure I want you to do that."

Nick targeted the pussy again smiling, knowing he'd just been delivered a maybe. Some other time; no hurry.

They fucked and sucked for well over three hours. The fellatio was okay but he'd build up her expertise gradually, almost without her knowing it. He'd bring her on by numbers and being a schoolteacher Rose would remember the math.

The last thing Nick remembered that night was Rose had fallen asleep and he was fucking her yet again and he must have fallen asleep because next morning he had no memory of finishing.

Nick stared into the olive green eyes and said, "I want you to meet my parents."

He saw what he'd call panic.

"Mom first. We'll get her here to lunch one Saturday. Dad plays golf Saturdays and with late lunch and then more drinks that takes most of the day."

"What if she mentions the contract?"

"So what if she does?"

"I-I... I suppose it doesn't matter."

"Good girl. I can tell you she won't but she will be assessing you to determine whether you would have complied."

"Would I have?"

"Yes with the pregnancy provision to follow."

"I feel dreadful. I have done you out of $1,500,000."

"I think that was an appalling incentive for any mother to offer her son and an insult to involve any woman in such a scheme."

"Do you?"

"I do know, absolutely."

"But what about all that money?"

"What about it? I believe I would have felt wretched taking it."

"My hero."

"Anyway the feedback I'm getting I'll be making big money from my latest novel. I've sent off the final chapters and people at my publishers love the ending."

"You have written about us, haven't you?"

"A bit, quite a bit although you might find it difficult finding everything because that includes how you and your parents have made me think about myself and my writing."

Rose said soundly slightly skeptical, "I'm struggling to see how my father could influence your writing?"

"Well for starters he's the first non-American born character in any of my novels who has remained un-American, clinging firmly to his former lifestyle and inbred traditions. I knew people like him existed but except superficially they remained unknown to me. Secondly my hero and heroine in this novel drink red wine and that's a first for me and my un-American character's wife has a heart so big and so forgiving she overlooks the unpatriotic character of her husband and accepts he's entitled to be what he is and anyway he delivers other qualities to her like great sex and his great love of her cooking."




Nicks Women Plus Real Ones



Rose's eyes bulged. "My mother told you about the quality of sex with my father?"

"Yes because I asked her and asked what things she liked and disliked about your father: it's called character research. It may interest you to hear she struggled to think of things she dislikes about him. There are things that irritate her but she accepted she could be irrational about some of those. As for you father, I interviewed him twice about his cellar habits. Are you aware when he goes down there an loiters he thinks of his former life in France?"

Rose gasped no.

"And that he would have liked to have had a son to teach about wine?"

"Oh god no. I know nothing about that."

"Please don't say anything to Lisa about that. He asked me not to. And may I ask that you begin to slowly take an interest in his cellar. If and when you and I commit he'll adopt me as the son who needs to be taught about wine."

"Oh god, this is so deep and so romantic. I'll love to read about it."

"Then you'll have to read between the lines because the guy is am Italian immigrant and he yearns to have a son to educate about whisky and then finally his daughter brings home this guy who becomes a surrogate son."

"This book will sell by the millions," Rose said confidently, hugging her lover.

"Ah, about my mother?"

"Oh god, did you have to spoil the moment?"

Two days later Nick reached the café after the usual waves and interchanges with young girls but he thought perhaps the number of incidences were decreasing. He was only just inside the door of the diner when Betty rushed him.

She laughed and kissed him and he could see she was deliriously happy.

"Bee was in huge trouble at school yesterday."

"Oh yes," Nick said cautiously, wondering how the fuck could a mother be happy about that.

"She was made to stay in after school for her part in the incident."

"Incident?"

"Yes. Two guys in her class caused an uproar fighting over who was taking her to the movies on Saturday afternoon."

"How could Bee be blamed for that."

"With other kids in the class screaming and egging the guys on, the classroom teacher distinctly heard Bee yell she'd accept the guy who won."

"Who won?"

"School security arrived to break up the fight so it was inconclusive. The guys have agreed to both accompany Bee to the movies."

"How do you feel about that?"

"I'm not worried because both guys are geeks but Bee is now being noticed and two other guys have asked her for dates. You are an amazing man darling. Here let me kiss you again. Her is $500 from Bee's father."

"Nah, but give me another kiss Betty and you spend that money on a necklace. There is no need to mention how you got the necklace. Lend it to Bee at times."

"You're a good man Nick Bradshaw. Now this is extremely confidential. I'm reading your latest book to my husband in bed and he is now prepared to leave the light on when we have sex and two nights ago for the first time ever, we did it doggy. When will you be describing anal sex in this new lively and explicit style you are developing Nick? My guess is I'm not the only woman hanging out for it."

"I'll think about it Betty," Nick wheezed. "Let Bee help you choose the necklace."

* * * 

Nick went home for lunch one Sunday and Muriel pretended not to have known a Lisa Monroe or have gone to college in Massachusetts.

"Mom get your mind up to speed. There is a photograph of you in the hall in the regional champion college girls' hockey team. The left winger is named as Lisa Monroe and you played right wing."

"Oh yes."

"Well she wants you to come to lunch next Saturday."

"Where? I'm not going to Massachusetts just for lunch."

"She lives about four miles from here mom."

"Well fancy that."

"She says your ignore her when she sees you."

"Well I might well do that since I don't know what she looks like. Anyway, what has this got to do with you?"

"I sometimes stay in her home. I'm a friend of her daughter."

"What kind of friend?"

"Very close actually."

"Then why didn't you present her for approval before the contract expired?"

"Such an offer would be beneath her, that's why."

"I see. Well I'm a little bored at present and this proposal of yours sounds intriguing. Please give the housekeeper the date, time and address for her diary."

"You housekeeper's name is Mrs Wilks mother."

"Is that so? She's been with me thirteen years and so I'm unlikely to have forgotten her name."

"Yes mother. Please say her name."

"Mrs Wilks. Now that's enough of childish games. Tell me, why are my friends telling me they read your books when they know I never read drivel?"

* * *

Nick said very carefully. Now Lisa please settle. Although my mother is reputedly worth close to fifty million she describes that as bullshit, using that very word. Both of her hips are arthritic as a result of too much booze, too much sex and too much hard sport in her younger years. And just like you, her feet hurt in tight shoes and she dislikes talking on the phone and wishes her husband would be tidier around the house."

"That's your mother you are describing?"

"Yes and I'll tell you this for your ears only. Although she treats dad and me like shit she'll be on her charming best when she visits in twenty-one minutes."

"She'll be late."

"My mother is never late. You said 2:30 and that's when the doorbell will ring."

"Oh god, this is the worst day of my life. Where's Rose, I want Rose?"

"At the library. Rose and I discussed tactics and both believed it best if my mother focused on you initially. Rose will arrive at 3:00."

"Ohmigod my hair, my dress. Oh why don't I spend big money on myself?"

"Lisa, Rose and I want you to be yourself. If you take a dislike to my mother or she to you it won't matter. Life will still go on. Lisa, now listen to me. I want you to be your charming self and that is being relaxed and friendly and unbothered. I don't want you letting Rose down."

"I won't. I want Rose to be proud of me."

"Good girl. Fetch your brush and I'll do your hair."

"What's wrong with my hair?"

"Nothing. Your hair being brushed will calm you."

The doorbell went at 2:30 on the dot and Nick pushed Lisa towards the door.

"Good afternoon Mrs Bradshaw. How lovely to see you again."

"Are you for real Floppy Tits? I see you have them under control these days."

"You call me Lisa and I won't call you Big Mouth."

"Oh okay," said Muriel. "Sounds like you wish to bury your past. I'll never forget how you bullied me and coached me so hard to allow me to make required grades. How may I reward you?"

"A kiss and a hug would be lovely and then greet your son."

They hugged and kissed and Muriel said good afternoon to her son and asked, "Where's your husband."

"In the cellar fearful of meeting you."

"Oh really. Sounds like you picked a good husband. Get him up here."

"I'll do that, Nick said, and hurried off.

Jacques growled, "I thought I was to be cooped up in this fucking cellar half the afternoon?"

"My mother wants you topside to inspect you Jacques."

"Up hers."

"Now come on Jacques, don't be petulant." 

Nick led Jacques up from the cellar that was at the same level as the underground garages.

Nick said, "Jacques, please meet my mother Muriel Bradshaw. Mother this is Jacques Rousseau."

Jacques was astonished when Muriel greeted him in perfect French. While they conversed Lisa said to Nick, "If your mother can speak French why can't you?"

"Because my mother lived five years post-college working in France, that's why."

"Do you know any French."

"Some words and phrases and my ear appears better tuned after Rose read me that novel night after night."

"Ah yes. Boring wasn't it?"

"Well it did give me insight into French family life and a little about their thinking."

"Ah yes. Very thoughtful comment. I speak French, poorly. Jacques prefers my English."

Jacques poured red wine and Muriel said in delight, "My dear Jacques. This wine is beautiful."

He flushed in pleasure and Nick was pleased because his mother never was complimentary unless she really meant it. Straight and predictable was his mother.

Rose arrived. Nick was waiting for this and would never forget the look on his mother's face.

He smiled, "Rose darling, this is my mother Muriel Bradshaw. Please call her Muriel."

"Yes please do, Muriel said, kissing Rose in the manner of the French. "You are very beautiful."

"Thank you Muriel. And you are very charming. Ohmigod, I don't wish to be rude but that necklace; it's absolutely gorgeous."

"It has come down to me through five generations Rose, from a German ancestor of high position. She gave it to her youngest daughter when the newly married young woman immigrated to this country."

"What a beautiful story to go with it. Please excuse me. Stay where you are mom; I'll serve afternoon tea."

Muriel looked at the retreating Rose rather thoughtfully.

Nick was at his apartment engaged in beginning final work on his manuscript that evening, a task that would take perhaps a fortnight and included burning the midnight oil. He expected to receive the final ten edited draft chapters back within the next couple of days.

His mother called.

"What is it? You never call me."

"Don't be rude Nicholas. I was calling to thank you for arranging for me to reunite with Lisa. We plan to do some things together."

"Excellent and I'm very pleased to hear that. Thank you for making the effort."

"Oh my couth darling. I also wanted to say Rose is the one. Had you presented her in time for approval she would have received it, without question."

"I'm pleased to know that but believe me when I discussed the contract you had with me she made it quite clear she would have left me had I accepted your money under those terms."

"The stupid girl."

"Think what you wish mother. I regard it as her right to think like that."

"Well thank god you're not in business. You would have been a pauper by now."

"Oh but I'm in business, earning money as a writer."

Muriel laughed. "Peanuts I should think."

"My after-tax royalties and other payments for the past financial year mother were just over $837,000, a 15.7% increase on the previous year and I have been informed the assessment of the novel I'm tidying up before submitting as the final manuscript will take my sales through the roof, although I can't get anyone to tell me sensibly what that means."

"Will it become a best seller?"

"Could be. We'll just have to wait and see. Would you please consider advancing me $800,000 as an interest-free loan. I wish to invest in property."

"I only give interest-free personal loans to your father. I shall charge you 3% for a term of seven years. Visit Mel Fisher at my attorney's office tomorrow at 2:00. I shall instruct her in the morning and advise your appointment time."

"She might not be able to see me then."

"She will if she wishes to continue handling my realty investments."

Next morning Nick consulted the company managing the apartment block about the possible purchase of apartment twenty-eight. The manager called back and said the trustees of the estate owning it were interested in freeing money. The current value of the property was $1.6 million.

Nick decided to take the risk. "I have come into some money but not that much. Please forward my unconditional offer of $1.1 million requiring free possession within two months."

The offer was accepted and the deal signed on Friday.

"Are you sure you can afford it?" Rose had asked when told on the day Nick had made the offer.

"Yes easily and my mother is lending me $800,000 so I have seven years in which to pay back that loan."

"But why here, where not go into a newer apartment block at a much better address?"

"I hope you'll move in with me. This is near your school and near your parents and is right under where I write. My workroom apartment suits me fine; the atmosphere, its snugness and the four-sided views of the city are incomparable in assisting in the generation of creative thought. I purchased my turret apartment with money I received from my maternal grandmother. Because of my belief that environment really works for me I'll not give it up by shifting. If push comes to shove I'd live anywhere else in the city but would retain that turret."

"Fair enough. You find the working environment inspirational and so I'd believe you should stick with it. Is Apartment 29 similar to my parent's apartment?"

"A little smaller with only two bedrooms but with an additional bathroom and no cellar of course. The layout is quite similar."

"Then I'll happily shift in with you."

"Good. I did a hard deal so I have cash for refurbishment. You can manage that project, making the decisions but please check colors with me."

"I'd love to do that. How do off-white walls with bright blue as the predominant color for the soft-furnishing sound plus I'll try your mother to see what modern art she has stored away?"

"My mother?"

"Yes. I've been out twice with mom and her and your mother calls me every two or three days, usually before I leave for work."

"My mother?"

"Nick for god sake. You mother is really quite nice and seems to have really brightened up with me about. I have been advising her about fashion and getting rid of that giant gas-guzzling limo and settling for a black Mercedes S-class Hybrid. She's thinking about it."

"My mother takes advice from a bunch of business professionals."

"Well that's okay but does she listen to them? She appears to be listening to me."

* * *

Nick visited his publisher for meetings over two days with senior people. Rose couldn't accompany him because of school commitments.

The first meeting that afternoon took three hours to reach agreement on the title. Nick's working title 'Jessica Lays Mr Right' was rejected within five minutes of the start of the meeting. 

Then the discussions crawled until late afternoon when after the rejection of the 34th suggested title, the senior editor said, "Bring out the wine Jennie. Getting smashed might miraculously produce the title we want and ease my anxiety that we might be expecting too much from this paperback.

"Red Wine for Jessica," Nick said.

Senior editor Patsy Coates momentarily froze. Others in the room stared at Nick in dawning realization.

"Okay one wine and everyone back to work," Patsy said. She instructed the head of the art department, "Work up a cover using Nick's brilliant title Alf incorporating a glass of red wine and the heroine's face."

"Grab your wine and mine and come with me Nick and I'll explain the promotional budget and what we require you to do. You'll need to hit the road with a beautiful companion."

"I have one. Just make sure that coincides with the high school break."

"It will. Do you have photos of this woman?"

"Yeah on my personal website, clothed and nude."

"Clothed will do nicely than you Nick. Does she drink red wine?"

"Yeah, it's the only liquor she drinks plus champagne. She is also fluent in French."

Patsy turned to look at Nick. "Ohmigod, you modeled your heroine on her?"

"Christ Patsy, whatever gave you that idea?" Nick said, attempting to look like a choirboy.

Returning home Nick realized just how much he'd missed Rose in the short time he'd been away from her. It wasn't only the sex he was missing. She'd simply grown on him through mutual attraction and proven compatibility in a grafting process that had occurred without being noticed.

Amazing.

It would be at least another month before they were living together, more likely almost three months, allowing for the occupants of No. 29 to go and for the renovations to be completed. There could be a wait for workmen because everyone began do-up work from late spring. The surprise was finding he could miss someone so much; obviously Rose had become his best pal.

Nick was always nervous about his status of a writer on the eve of publication of a new book and this time he was practically panting in anxiety after being informed about the plans to promote the wine lady book and the huge amount of money to be spent to underpin that strategy.

What if the new release bombed?

He'd asked Patsy that, knowing the tough-ass editor would give it to him straight. She said sure she was nervous but had gone to the board in confidence with the marketing plan. The board had agreed they were overdue in introducing Nick as a personality to the public. Currently he was the company's No. 3 author in terms of sales and the wine lady book, as it was now being called internally, would hurl him way out in front as the small publisher's No. 1 author. Nick of course had known all this was based on the feedback secured from readership panel appraisals plus paying a few noted literary critics to give their judgment on the final manuscript. All Patsy would say about that was the feedback was fine, just as she'd expected.

Nick had pressed Patsy to be more specific but she said those assessments were only that, assessments. What counted would be the book's success at cash registers.

'Red Wine for Jessica' would be Nick's first truly international publication. Some of his earlier publications had been sent from New York to distributors in other countries on demand but this time there would be simultaneous releases of the wine lady book to be printed on contract in New York, Toronto, England, France and Germany.

Patsy has told him not to worry, that the company rarely had total failures. She assured him this book had what it took and he should go home and relax before starting his next novel. He's said he was well ahead with planning and was told to go home and relax with his beautiful girlfriend.

* * *

Rose was clearing away breakfast with her mother when asked, "I can't believe how Muriel has taken to you so comprehensively."

"She's lonely mom and she'd confided she'd always wanted a daughter."

"Ohmigod, this is a takeover."

"Calm down. You'll always be my mother and she will be no more than my mother."

"Ohmigod, Nick has asked you to marry him!"

"No but he will. Neither of us is meant for anyone else."

"Rose listen to me, grab him while you have the chance."

Rose laughed and went over and kissed her mom and scolded her for panicking. "Nick will realize there is no one else for him if he bothers to think about it. Our relationship has extended beyond sex."

"Tell him that, please tell him that."

"No mom and I don't want you applying pressure and making cute remarks to him about it. It will happen. I promise you that."

"You promise, you really do?"

"Yes now off to the laundry and get your mind wrapped around work and call Muriel and suggest an outing."

"I don't call her. She calls me."

"Mother!"

"All right, all right. There is no need to be such a shrew."

During that day, Nick's second day away, Rose decided she didn't like Nick being away. She couldn't control his movements but that didn't mean she couldn't emote about it. This had been their first break and she wondered perhaps that might encourage him to think about the impact of her on his life.

Rose mused that she'd been right in saying to her mother that the relationship had gone beyond sex, not that a woman could expect a guy to possess such perception although perhaps Nick might, having the creativity that fueled him as a writer. She wasn't pregnant yet, at least didn't think she was. What would Nick be like with babies?

Thinking about that Rose decided he'd probably be very good and do his share with them because he was fair-minded. She knew if they had a daughter she would become intellectually romantically minded through her father making up stories for her throughout her childhood. Oh how lovely.

Then Rose wondered if she had the talent to write children's books. It was a huge market because grandparent's were compulsive buyers of children's books and kids loved to read, well until they got to their computer age that seemed to becoming earlier and earlier. But who went to bed at night with a computer instead of a book?




Nicks Women Plus Real Ones



Rose's mind continued this journey. Yes, she could write in the mornings and in the afternoons work on the domestic accounts and then Nick's business accounts to give him even more time to devote to writing. Oh god, she could proof his work on computer and make the basic corrections and mark passages in color she thought might require reworking. This could substantially increase his output and he'd be writing without the peripheral things that accompany it... the distracting management things. 

So would she be prepared to give up teaching? Rose thought so. Well she needed a decision from Nick before renovations of the apartment began. No she wouldn't because there already was a study in the apartment. Nick would assume it was for him but he already had his workroom on the floor above. For the first time Rose saw the similarity: her father had a cellar as a bolt hole while Nick's bolt hole would be his 'attic'. Didn't males know how to care for themselves!"

Rose was mature enough to know she couldn't just decided to be a writer and become one. There was other requirements apart from belief, the most notable one being the ability to release any creative talent she might have for writing. She'd displayed such talent at school and in her projects at college in gaining her education degree but the difference between that and writing commercially would be enormous. But she had a bolt hole didn't she... her study? She could draw a salary from Nick by being his literary assistant and his commercial manager.

After school next day Rose raced to the turret and kissed her lover passionately and was pleased to be similarly 'assaulted'.

"God I missed you," he said.

"Me too," she said, floating on clouds, only to be pulled back to reality by Wise Guy asking how on earth could she have missed herself?

"I meant I really missed you. Don't be such a pathetic Dumbo."

"Oh do I hear shades of my mother's sharp tongue as a result of over-fraternization?"

"I stayed with her last night if that's what you meant."

He looked at her as if she were lying "My mother never has house guests."

"Well she sees me as her daughter," Rose snapped, cheeks aflame and almost immediately her face turned white and she gasped, "Oh god, what am I saying?"

"Probably the truth," he said, completely unfazed. "Come on, let's get these tits out."

"Oh yes, Rose groaned almost in disbelief that he'd fallen to a diversion. "I've missed you so much that I don't mind if you wish to play with my butt."

Locked in a huge kiss as he fiddled with her bra hooks Rose pulled him on to the carpet. He accompanied her, breaking his fall on her, without protest. Of course; that's what any woman would expect.

Rose opened her legs wide expecting him to be at her like a starving wolf but instead he was stroking her tits gently, talking to them, and occasionally running his tongue over her nipple.

Talking to her tits? Rose convulsed and her body was hit by waves of orgasms. Recovering and almost deliriously happy at being reminded she was a sexually active woman, Rose ripped her panties into pieces and made herself ready for him. When Nick raised himself over her with his thick cock in his hand, the end of it dripping, Rose had difficulty breathing and felt almost dizzy. She guessed that's what her grandparent's generation called swooning, they being unaware it was a change in blood pressure as the body rushed extra blood to the genitals... er, if it were a sexually related swoon.

As Rose feel her vagina take possession of the cock sliding into it she said softly, "I love you" and joyfully heard the response, although slightly gruff, "And I love you."

They crashed against one another having a great time and Rose decided she didn't care if he found she only really sweated during robust fucking, unaware Nick had already learned that, repeatedly.

He was now hitting her clit with thumb rolls and she finally heaved, groaned and climaxed and yelled, "Shoot over me."

She'd meant over her stomach but the mother-fucker rose high and jerking it sprayed into her mouth, up her nose and into her eyes and hair. She could have strangled him. But he got brownie points grabbing a towel and cooing that she had the loveliest sperm-covered face he'd ever seen. Quickly he added, "Er on DVDs." He even kissed her through the mess and when her tongued him with a wad of it on her tongue he accepted the delivery without complaint or pulling away and spitting.

Good boy.

They rested and he said ever so casually, "Are you interested in part-time work?"

She said indignantly, "What reason do you have for putting me out to work?"

Nick grinned. "I'd been thinking about your interest in my work and coupled that with another thought that if I had an editorial assistant I could boost output so you are the person I have in mind for that role. But since..."

"I'd love to assist you and would resign from my teaching job. I'd like to spend mornings trying to write a book for children."

"Are you pregnant."

"No. Why?"

"Oh just inquiring. May I say I believe in you and we are likely to make a great working team. You and not bossy and prone to arguing like most women."

Rose felt her temper flicker. "Do you know many women?"

"No."

"I thought not. Let's have more sex and talk later about your job proposal and any other proposal you have in mind."

"What other proposal?"

"Oh I don't know. We won't want our children born illegitimately will we?"

"So you mean a proposal of marriage?"

"Did I say that?"

"No."

Rose complained: "I'm waiting for up-close attention Nick."

"Right coming, literally."

Rose, on her back, lifted from her hips, curving her spine.

Nick licked her butt and soon she groaned and said, "That's more pleasurable than my butt plug."

"Your what?" Nick asked, lifting to eye his now very red-faced lover.

He grinned "Naughty girl. We'll talk about that later." 

THE END