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Too Clever by a Mile

By: carvohi



An apology and an introduction from the writer:

I have three stories on Literotica that I have not finished; two, Love in the Cross Hairs and Allyson, are still active, and will be completed imminently. Please be patient. This story, Too Clever by a Mile, has been finished, and will be submitted, a chapter a week, until it is all on line. So for anyone who starts to read it they can be confident there is a finished tale. I really liked telling this story. I like the people in it, and it actually is a love story regardless of what some of you might think from time to time. I hope you enjoy it. Please vote and leave comments, as those are the only means I have of knowing if I've been successful.

The cast of characters includes: 

Steve Murphy, 

Cathy Shoreham, 

Theresa Stockton, 

Barry and Carol Austin, 

Allen and Glynnis Peregoy, 

the Spanish Ladies, 

and Leah Murphy. 

*

Chapter One:

Prologue:

This is the story about a woman named Cathy Shoreham. She was twenty-seven when the story began, she was superficially gorgeous, and she was absolutely totally without any moral compass, no scruples at all. Coming off a second divorce she'd found a way to repeatedly enrich herself. Her method was as simple as finding a gullible willing rich man, luring him into a legal relationship, a marriage, and then emotionally and financially disemboweling him. 

The reasons for her behavior, though for a long time she never seriously thought about them, dated from the way her father had heartlessly manipulated and ruined her mother, in the end driving her mother to suicide. Since then Cathy had become the incarnation of Oliver Twist's man eating Estella. She both hated herself and loved herself for it. 

Her hatred, her loathing of men was a complex affair. She knew somewhere there might be someone good enough to deflect her predatory inclinations, but so far no man had appeared, and she was fairly confident no man ever would. Two foolish husbands aside her cynicism regarding men knew no limit. They were all affection and attention till they got what they wanted, then they became increasingly cold and indifferent. They all got what they deserved.

She'd more or less decided all she needed was one more great score; find one more stupid gullible self- righteous, self-centered, egotistical, conceited lug head, marry him and clean his clock. That's where Steve Murphy came in. Steve was the classic example of someone with too much money and too little ambition; the typical sheep ready to be sheared. His father had money, and Steve, being an only child, had gotten it all and had gotten it much too soon. At twenty-nine Steve was the perfect target; easy going, overly generous, friendly, but not exactly the smartest or the most attractive guy in town.

Cathy had already scoped him out. Through her friends, reliable acquaintances, and the lawyer she'd used to emasculate her second husband she'd gotten the dope on the young ass hole. He'd been married once, but the girl had suffered and died of a life ending malady, something to do with cancer, leukemia or something maybe. She'd only been gone a year or so. In short he was rich, stupid, and vulnerable. She'd swoop in, sweep him off his feet, catch him at his weakest, talk him into marriage, and then clean him out. She'd be in and out inside a year. 

How stupid was Steve?

Of course he was grief stricken. His wife, his first great love, his childhood sweetheart had literally died in his arms after months of chemotherapy. She had been sweet, pretty, good. He missed her desperately. His carefree manner had at first been displaced by the most profound depression, followed by a series of self-destructive behaviors. Finally he'd started to come to terms with his suffering by devoting his time and energy to charitable work; especially cancer research and hospice care for children suffering from cancer. It had given him a new opportunity. Then he met Cathy.

Was Steve ready for a new relationship? Was he ready for anyone quite like Cathy? Was she ready for him? What if he discovered her ulterior motive? What if she discovered someone who defied all her preconceived notions about men? What if their discoveries coalesced at the same time? What if their responses took them in two entirely new directions? What if he became the quiet slow moving predator and she found herself slowly falling into the trap of unwitting victim. Would it matter? Would they discover something about themselves and about each other before it was too late?

First Contact:

Steve Murphy, one time play boy, married man, swinger, now alone, lonely and wifeless had, after months of self pity found a new reason to go on. A small underfunded hospice facility in his area had been struggling along without any leadership or connections. Worse the hospice was too generalized and too specialized. They had too many patients with too many different problems, plus the problems they tried to treat were too narrow in scope. The result was the facility couldn't get a real deep dished commitment from any large reliable charity. The place needed to target something; a disease or some kind of ailment that attracted more widespread sympathy and in turn the money from the big donors that would make it a success. In desperation they'd had too many patients with too many too narrowly focused problems; sickle cell was one, and though it was a heartbreaking problem, when a third of the beds were devoted to a malady that impacted only a tiny percentage of the national population it became a lost cause getting the money needed to run and be successful. 

Steve had lost his wife to leukemia; a disease millions could identify with; it took young and old alike, but it was particularly heartrending when it took children. Steve had the administrative expertise to turn the place around, he just lacked the experience. With the support of local politicians and a few fairly well connected private individuals he managed to gain managerial control. From there it was a matter of garnering the money to make the place a success. Things moved fast, and within a handful of months the operation was moving forward. But Steve thought it was too small; he wanted to turn it into something, something that would eventually gain national attention, and that meant money, lots of money. He started campaigning. He started opening the place up for visits, and he devised new creative ways to raise funds. Of course the old stand by for the kinds of operations like the hospice was the big donor, or in the absence of a really big donor lots of good donors. 

With leukemia that wasn't hard to achieve. Nearly every family had a tale to tell, everyone knew someone who'd lost someone at a tender age. It was just a matter of pulling on the right heartstrings, and the cash would come in. To be sure, some charities had grown to become more about collections than about caring. Steve's plans weren't like that. He wanted the money, not to set up some kind of on going collection scheme, but to get the money to really help as many sick children as he could. That made it harder, since it meant less for advertising and more for actual care. He didn't care about that. He knew if he put in the hours the money would come, and it did, there just was never quite enough. There was never quite enough because he knew he always needed just a few more beds. There were always a few more little kids.

Cathy Shoreham had just cleaned out her second husband, an asshole if there ever was one. Now she was sitting on a pile of cash, and didn't know quite what to do with it. She wanted to move on, she wanted to find another man to cheat, but in the mean time she wanted to hide her money. That was when her lawyer suggested a way to help herself was by giving some of it away. He explained it in the old way; charitable giving saved money because it meant large deductions come tax time. 

Cathy had an open mind; she just didn't know which charity was the best place. That's when her lawyer mentioned the children's cancer hospice that Steve Murphy was building. He gave Cathy the run down on who Murphy was, and how he came to be involved in charitable work. It didn't take Cathy long to put two and two together, a deadbeat husband with feelings of guilt and too much money. She could invest her sexual energies and a little extra money in a charity and clean out the operator in the process. All she had to do was get on the inside. For sure she was no ravishing beauty, but she knew how to package and sell the product. It didn't take her long to find an apartment near the hospice; from there she figured it would be like plucking the fruit off a ripened tree. She wasn't far wrong.

It was his third mediocre charitable fund drive in four months, and Steve was getting nowhere. Sure there were a few donations, but everyone said times were tough, and besides, except for the hardcore giver, most people weren't looking to help others. This was the era of trickle down, and that meant maximizing self promotion and minimizing any actual giving; get ones picture in the paper as a big donor, but quietly disappear when it came time to write the check. 

That's when his friend Barry pointed her out. She'd been to his last two fund raisers, and on both occasions mentioned to Barry her interest in doing something. It seemed she'd mentioned something to Barry about a girlfriend who had been diagnosed with leukemia. While she was dying in a hospital bed her girlfriends were all in the hall flirting with boys. The woman was never quite able to shed her guilt.

This was the type of donor Steve was looking for; someone with a big checkbook and a personal reason to give. She was standing over by the small orchestra he'd hired. He could tell right away she wasn't very pretty, but she worked hard to conceal it. She had a rinse in her hair, and probably was wearing contacts. She was a small woman, and she was wearing clothes that covered an underdeveloped body; probably a push up bra, uplift panties, tight hose that shaped the legs, and extra high heels. 

He walked over. She had a sympathetic look about her. By sympathetic he thought someone who could use some understanding. She had a lost waifish look like someone who was unhappy about something. He had a suspicion they were kindred spirits, "Hi, they tell me you're Cathy Shoreham?"

"You must be Steve Murphy, the paragon of virtue who's putting on this little shindig."

He caught the defensiveness in her tone of voice but ignored it, "Sure am, what do you think?"

"You could use some help."

"I could use some money."

She pretended to relax a little, ""I hear you're trying to expand your hospice." 

"Have you seen it?"

"Is that an invitation?"

"When are you free?"

"How about tomorrow?"

"Do you know where the Biltmore is?"

"Sure do. How about I pick you around 1:00. We can make a visit and then a late lunch."

She ponied up another fake smile, "See you then."

Steve gave her a real smile, "See you tomorrow."

A Tour and Lunch:

Steve got to the hotel promptly at 1:00. He had the concierge call upstairs. He got word she was running a little late, but would be right down. Steve sat down on one of the benches and tried to read the morning paper.

Upstairs Cathy had her battle plan laid out. Never appear too eager. Make them think you've been busy all morning that makes them less secure and more appreciative. She finished getting dressed and took the elevator downstairs.

Steve recognized her as soon as she stepped from the elevator. His prior assessment was correct. She was wearing a black business suit and white blouse. The blouse was a V-neck and even from where he was he could she had on a padded support bra. He could tell it looked like three of the buttons were undone down the front; a nice distraction, but in her case hardly effective. The blazer was a good cut. It showed her wasp like waist to full advantage. Her black slacks were smartly tailored, and she had on what looked like four inch black spiked heels, much too high for her. Hair was a light brown with blond highlights. It looked a little long, and she was wearing it in a too complicated swirling twirling kind of semi-bun. It would have been pretty on someone with a fuller figure; it just didn't work for her. His primary thought as she approached was how he'd like to redo her attire, redo her entire appearance. She could be almost pretty if she didn't try to be something she wasn't.

When she got close enough he started, "Hi, ready for a ride?"

She stopped just short. She held up her hand and an index finger. She pulled her cell phone from her over large pocket book and flipped it open. She made a serious effort at looking like she was going through several text messages. She snapped her phone shut, "Where did you say we were going?"

Steve smiled. He wanted to laugh. He thought, she's not even very good, "I thought we'd visit the hospice; then maybe grab a bite. Is that all right? I mean do you have the time?"

At first she wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic, but the look on his face was too banal, "No I'm good till late."

He walked her to his car. It was parked in the fifteen minute zone. He helped her in. He'd chosen the Malibu today. He had a Ford Explorer, but thought she would have been put off by something like that. He got in, "It's only a few miles."

She sat back. Nice car, American made, another indication she was dealing with a rube, "Beautiful day."

"It is beautiful isn't it, I mean considering its still winter."

They drove on for the twenty minutes it took them in silence.

Cathy liked the scenery. It was a nice area, clean, no litter, the people around the area clearly weren't rich, but they took care of things, another sign of easy pickings.

Steve pulled up to the hospice; an ambulance was at the front entry. He pulled the car into his space, "We lost a little boy two days ago, a little girl is here to take his bed."

"You lose many here?"

Steve blanched, "This is the end of the trail for nearly all our little ones. Some get picked up by one of the larger places where they do research, but mostly this is where they say good bye."

Cathy caught the buried emotion, "It hurts doesn't it?"

He watched as they rolled the stretcher in the front door. He wondered how long she'd be with them. He glanced over at his guest, "Yes." He recovered, "Come on, let's go in. We can get acquainted with our new guest." He walked around, opened the door and helped Cathy out of the car.

As she got out she thought, he really needs the money, "How many children are here right now?"

"We have beds for twenty-six. There's a waiting list of sorts."

"Of sorts?"

"Sometimes they don't stay on the list for very long."

"Really?"

"They get called home before we can get to see them."

"Called home?"

Steve pointed skyward,

Cathy hadn't thought of that, "Oh, I see."

He smiled again, "It's OK, people on the outside seldom think about those things." He took her elbow and they walked through the door together. 

They walked up to the front desk, "Hello Ms. McCrary? This is Cathy Shoreham. She's here to look the place over. She might be helping us out."

Ms. McCrary smiled, "I'm glad to meet you. She turned to Steve, "Steve, Doctor Morrison is in with Jimmy."

Steve paled, "Is it time?"

Ms. McCrary responded, "Pretty soon."

As they walked down the corridor that led to the room where the new child would be placed Cathy asked, "What was that about?"

In a gravelly voice Steve replied, "Jimmy will die soon. He's seven." 

Cathy's only response was, "Oh."

They found the new girl's room. Steve picked up the chart and started to study it. He looked over at Cathy, "Technically I'm not supposed to look at these charts. I'm not on the medical staff, but since I manage the place they sort of overlook it when I get nosy." He walked over to the new girl, "So you're Ginger."

The little girl was medicated, but still alert, "Yes, who are you?"

"I'm Mr. Steve." He reached back and pulled Cathy forward, "This is Miss Cathy."

Cathy tried to resist his grasp. She hadn't come there to see a lot of sick children. She smiled at the little girl.

Ginger smiled weakly up at Cathy, "You're pretty. "I'm going to look like you when I get my make-up on."

Cathy gave the little girl a stiff artificial smile, "I'll bet you'll be beautiful."

The little girl's eyes did cartwheels. She gave Cathy one of the prettiest smiles the cynical woman had ever seen.

Ginger asked, "Are you two boyfriend and girlfriend?" 

They answered simultaneously; Steve said yes, Cathy said no.

Steve corrected, "Technically we're just friends, not boy and girl friends."

Ginger's smile dropped a tiny bit, "You looked like you were."

Steve laughed, "Maybe we will be. If we become boyfriend and girlfriend we'll invite you to our first party."

Ginger smiled weakly but prettily, "I'd like that." She smiled at Cathy, "I like you Miss Cathy."

The nurse came over, "Mr. Steve?"

He looked at Ginger, "We have to go now. I'll stop back later."

Ginger grinned, "Bring your girlfriend."

As Cathy and Steve walked away Cathy asked, "How old is she?"

"Ginger's eleven."

"She looks a lot younger."

"It works that way sometimes."

"Will she get better?'

Steve didn't look at her, "No."

"There's nothing anybody can do?"

He did look at her then, "We can make her more comfortable, and try to make her last weeks as pleasant as possible."

Cathy silently thought she wanted to punch her lawyer in the nose for getting her involved in a mess like this, "I see."

For the next several minutes they toured the rest of the facility. They walked by the room where Jimmy was resting. Steve looked in, but left Cathy in the hall. He was crying when he came out. He looked at her, "It's hard to take you know?"

She replied, "I've seen enough. Let's get something to eat."

He drove to an Olive Garden, "Italian OK?"

She answered, "Sure."

They spent the better part to the rest of the afternoon at the restaurant. Cathy tried to make herself appear as approachable and as available as she could without appearing cheap. Steve saw and heard what he thought was genuine interest, both in the hospice and in him. He wondered if she was worth it. Did she have the money, and on the other hand would she be responsive to a make over? After the late lunch he drove her back to the hotel He asked when they got back, "Are you in town much longer?"

Cathy replied, "Probably a week or so, why?"

"Maybe I could show you around a little. We have some nice scenery."

"You have my number, call me."

He answered as he helped her out o the car, "I will."

The Dance:

Cathy extended her stay beyond her originally planned two weeks. She and Steve engaged in a kind of sparing match. They went on three casual dates; first just to dinner, a second to a movie, and third to a dinner theater where they saw a modified and truncated version of Guys and Dolls. Neither made much headway. Steve thought she had more money than she really did, and she found out he wasn't quite the easy mark she originally believed.

On the eve their fourth date Steve figured he was probably chasing up a blind alley. He'd give it one more shot, and if nothing came of it he'd have to cut bait and move on. The local Elk's Club was holding one of its annual dances, and he decided he give her the full court press then. 

Cathy had just about given up hope of getting Steve to commit, let alone just to bed. She figured if she didn't get somewhere after the stupid Elk dance she'd have to move on.

The dance was well attended. Over fifty couples were there. Steve knew nearly everybody, and Cathy saw he was quite popular. She wasn't so sure, maybe she'd hang around a little longer. A couple people thought they recognized Cathy, but said nothing. As the dance was winding down Steve asked if it was OK, might they stop at the hospice briefly. They'd picked up another new child, and he wanted to see him. Cathy wasn't excited about it. She managed to duck the hospice on two other occasions, but this time she figured it couldn't hurt; it might even help her cause.


Too Clever by a Mile Ch. 02



Chapter Two:
An Isolated Event:


Cathy stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. Steve wanted her to help out at a small dinner party he was planning for the evening. He explained that technically she'd be more a server than anything else. He'd invited another woman. A woman he needed to help him with some of the charitable work he was involved with, and that she, that was Cathy would act as the go between carrying small trays of snacks, drinks, and plates back and forth from the kitchen and the temporary bar that would be set up in the corner. 

He explained she shouldn't feel at all demeaned or debased by this since she should know how he felt about her. He explained he thought this was a small favor to ask, but if she decided she preferred not to he'd understand and she could take the night and go to a movie or something.

Of course, she agreed. She'd fallen in love with him. 

Though Steve was the man whom she mistakenly thought would be her next victim, she'd come to the conclusion she'd do just about anything for him. In fact, all things considered, she was a little disappointed she wasn't allowed to do more. He seldom took her to bed, though when he did the experiences she had were just this side of Heaven. She'd put up with some of his odd preferences like the ribbon thing hoping he'd let her become a bigger part of his work at the hospice. Though he was always making suggestions and getting her to do doing things to change her appearance she didn't care, she just wanted to do things for him. He made her happy, and she wanted to reciprocate. He hadn't said he loved her yet, but she was sure he did, and one day soon he'd say it.

She couldn't explain why she felt the way she did; it had crept up on her so slowly, one day he was this geeky fool she intended to rob, the next he was her Prince Charming. Cathy walked over to the bed to look over the outfit he'd laid out for her. 

It was wrapped in several small boxes. She started opening each one, going from the top to the bottom. The first box contained undergarments. There was no brassiere, but she hadn't expected one. Steve had expressed a strong personal dislike of what he called 'women's shoulder harnesses'. There was, however, a beautiful white camisole. She slipped it on. It was tight fitting but not uncomfortably so. It was translucent and trimmed with eyelet lace; quite feminine. 

She liked the camisole immediately. Though she still felt a little troubled about her breasts, she was confident it was only her imagination, but they somehow seemed to look and feel smaller. She knew they were certainly firmer. Steve didn't seem to mind. He's repeatedly complimented her on her small well shaped body, and that included her breasts. 

There was a pair of white panties' slightly ruffled around the edges of the pants legs, and they had a small bow in the back near of base of her rear end. These were made of silk and gave the impression of translucency but in fact were not. The elastic waist fit comfortably. She slid them on. They felt sexy and naughty. They were a tiny bit tight at the inseam. The cleft of her vaginal lips puckered through slightly, that hardly mattered, since the panties would be concealed beneath whatever dress he had bought for her. However, the tightness did make her feel a little self-conscious; a gentle reminder of her sexuality.

She opened the second box. Looking at its contents she knew this was why he hesitated earlier and commented that she might feel a little humbled. The second box contained a black maid's uniform. It was really quite pretty, naughty and sexy looking without being cheap. It was made of a black silken type of material but not silk. It had a low delicate sheen. Stunningly black, with short sleeved, capped shoulders, and with stiff, heavily starched, white cuffs that sat comfortably at not quite mid bicep. 

The top of the garment fit loosely. It had a thin cloth belt with a tiny black buckle. The blouse portion buttoned up the front with the tiniest black pearl buttons, and ended at the top with a beautiful white peter pan collar, again like the cuffs stiffly starched. Though the collar was a little tight and a little uncomfortable; when she looked in the mirror she immediately forgot the discomfort. As far as maid's attire went it was, if not exactly stylish, certainly pretty. 

The skirt portion was equally attractive. Slightly pleated it fell to just above the knee. Beneath the dress was a small white apron. She slipped it around her waist, just above the thin belt, and tied it off in a neat bow.

The third box certainly contained her shoes and nylons. She opened it expectantly. She wasn't surprised. Inside was a pair of shiny black leather shoes. They were high heeled, but she could tell they weren't more than perhaps two inches at most. Accompanying the shoes were a pair of white ankle length nylon socks. She slipped into the socks. The tops were trimmed in lace. She folded them over, and then slipped into the shoes. Each shoe had a small black strap in the front. She tightened the straps and stood up. They were a little tight, maybe a little uncomfortable, but she recognized that had more to do with their newness than size. 

Cathy walked back to the mirror and looked herself over. She was adorable. If this didn't excite Steve then nothing would. She supposed she should feel a little put off; what, being asked to play maid for his guests at his dinner party, but she wasn't doing it for them. This was for him. If he liked this; God knew he liked other odd things; then she liked it too. 

She stepped into the bathroom to prepare her hair and her make up. She knew the rule with regard to her hair. She liked it tied back in a neat but small pony tail. She brushed and combed it into the appropriate shape, tightened it in place with a small rubber band, and finished it with a pretty white bow that covered the rubber band.

She applied her make up just the way he liked; earth tones around her eyes, black mascara to make her already long lashes look even longer, a tiny tad of eye liner, just a smidgen of pink on her cheeks, and a hint of pink lipstick. She put her tinted contacts in. 

If there was one thing about herself she despised it was her mousy dark brown eyes. Shit brown, that's what they were. All the really beautiful people had blue, or green, or hazel eyes; not her, she had old dark brown eyes, good for nothing nobody notices brown. They weren't even that good. Still a young woman she was on the borderline between good old fashioned myopia and a genuine need for bifocals. She'd always hid the problem well. Steve had caught it though. He saw it right away. It wasn't till she saw his contact lenses and his regular glasses that she knew why. His eyes were as bad as hers. 

He'd also picked up on her hair right away. Ever since she could remember she's played the rinse game. Just a little light rinse and her ugly duckling dark brown hair turned to a beautiful dark flaxen with blond highlights. Actually is had always been a lot more than just a light rinse; it usually took hours at the beauty parlor, or what her father used to call the 'ugly shop.' Talk about the mean ugly man who had been her father. She'd almost forgotten her mission in life. Damn you Steve! I thought I knew who I was before I met you.

Yes, he'd seen the dark brown roots. He'd persuaded her to get it back to her natural color. What a jerk. He was clever that one. He knew just what to say. He said he liked the dark brown better. It was something of a first; the first time a guy, any guy, had ever said things about who she was in her natural state and liked it. Everybody else, and she meant everybody, wanted her to be something else. God she hated men. They were cold, selfish, indifferent, and sexually self absorbed. All of them; but then there was Steve. He was so odd.

She just couldn't get Steve off her mind, not ever. He liked her. He just liked just her, like how she really was! He had his peculiarities; his had his kinky preferences, but they were silly kinky not mean or hurtful kinky. She didn't think of him as some kind of weird fetishist, but he had his own ideas. She didn't like them much actually, but she pretended to like them because he did. When she got him down the aisle she'd change some of that, when she got him down the aisle.

She stood back and checked herself out. The uniform, the hair, the make-up; she was convinced she couldn't look better. Of course, she'd rather be wearing a cocktail dress and be a direct participant in the dinner, but if this was what Steve wanted, then tonight, this is what he got.

A Pretty Girl Gets a Present:

A short time later Steve drifted into the bedroom. He walked in, and was immediately delighted at the way she looked. Cathy looked the classic young serving girl; nothing of the supposed woman of the world who'd first crossed his path weeks before. 

She'd come a long way; her at first feigned interest in the children at the hospice had become real. He believed her pretended interest in him had become at least a little more genuine. Most of all, she'd foolishly let her guard down and allowed him to persuade her to turn virtually all her personal and financial assets over to his lawyer. She didn't know it yet, but at the moment she didn't own anything, not even the pretty little maid's outfit she had on. 

All her property, all her stocks, her land holdings, treasury notes, even that little sports car she drove was gone, all gone. When he decided to expose her for the fraud and liar she really was she'd be completely devastated. The question was when. He wasn't even sure at the moment if there would be a when; that would be largely up to her. She just tied him up in knots. 

He smiled as he crossed the bedroom floor, "You look adorable."

Cathy did a little pirouette, "You like me this way?"

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her cheek, "I love you this way, my little house maid. There are just one or two little things."

She looked up, she was a little suspicious about the house maid comment, but thrilled otherwise, "What's wrong?"

He took his hand and ran it through the front of her hair, "I want to see something different here tonight."

"Like what?" she asked.

"I don't know, maybe we could comb some if down in a little wave that brushed across the front of your forehead." He studied her face. "Yes, you'll be even prettier with some of that thick luscious hair cutting across your forehead. Now hold still a second." He took a couple seconds to pull a little hair from her tight pony tail and comb if across her forehead.

Not knowing what to say or do, she stood perfectly still.

Steve stepped over to the bureau, got a pair of scissors, and before she could resist he snipped a little off the front of her hair. He fluffed it a little and combed it down again, "There, that's perfect. You look like Audrey Hepburn." 

Cathy didn't know who Audrey Hepburn was, but didn't say anything.

Now let's lose the contact lens."

"My contacts?"

"Yes, let's go with glasses. I have a pair. From his pocket he pulled out a pair of dark brown wire rimmed glasses. "Now get in the bathroom, lose the contacts and put these on."

"Steve I..."

He stood very erect. He pointed to the bathroom, "Now my little maid."

Cathy was taken a little aback. She slipped into the bathroom, removed her contacts, and put on the glasses. She looked in the mirror. In two simple moves Steve had made her look ten years younger and fifty times less attractive. She looked just like what he'd called her a few seconds earlier, a little housemaid, a mousy little housemaid. Then again, the hair across her forehead did look kind of sexy in a sweet sort of way. The contacts would've been better though.

She walked back out. Her eyes were wide and wet. She was on the verge of tears. "Steve I'm not sure I like this."

He saw the confusion in her face, and her eyes looked brighter. Were those tears starting to well up? That he figured was probably good, in a few hours she might have a reason to cry. He smiled and replied, "I love you this way. You know what. Little Ginger back at the hospital would love it too."

Cathy thought back on the hospital and all the poor sick children. They were so sad. None was sadder than little Ginger. She was a plain little thing, dark hair, dark eyes, glasses, just the way she looked right now. Only difference was Ginger was terminal. They didn't expect her to last more than a few more months. Cathy turned and looked back in the mirror. She did look a lot like Ginger. She turned back to Steve, "I'm going to go see her tomorrow. I want her to see me with me looking this way."

Steve saw the look on Cathy's face. It was real. She felt something for the little girl, "Maybe not tomorrow, but for sure Monday. OK?"

Cathy looked back in the mirror. She pointed to her own reflection, "I can't remember not trying to hide from this face. Now I don't know, maybe for her."

Steve stepped up behind her. He put his hands on her shoulders. Cathy and Ginger were a lot alike; both were small, weak in many ways. Too bad Cathy had this mean streak, "She'll love you more than ever. You know that?"

Steve's comment about her and Ginger made her feel funny. When this was all over she really would marry Steve. She'd put her original plan in the dust bin. She'd use her money to help other kids. She turned around and looked up at Steve, "You make me feel funny all over. I love you, you know that?"

He rested his hands on her shoulders, "I have something else for you."

Cathy couldn't imagine anything more, at least not anything more she'd particularly want, "Yes?"

He reached in his trouser pocket and pulled out a small thin gold necklace. He held it up, "Let's try this on."

She glimpsed the necklace. It didn't look especially expensive. She wondered why he decided to give it to her. She made a short reply, "OK."

Steve held out the necklace so she could see there was a small locket attached to it. The locket couldn't have been larger than a quarter, it looked no more valuable than the gold chain necklace, and there was something etched on the top. She didn't recognize the etched object, but it looked kind of funny, like a tiny apostrophe and three odd shaped rectangles, one sitting horizontally over the other two which were vertical. It reminded her of something she'd see at Stonehenge. She knew she'd seen this symbol before, but couldn't remember when or where. A little embarrassed she pretended she knew what it was and didn't make a comment. 

Steve took it and started to reach behind her head. He had to partially raise her white collar to get the necklace to lie flat. He clicked the little hasp that held it together. He patted the collar back in place, then carefully pulled the locket down in front so that it rested neatly at her throat where the curve of the collar arced together at the center of her neck. He turned her around so she could face the mirror, "There."

Cathy took her right hand, reached up, and felt the locket. It was pretty, very feminine. It also made her appear even younger. She wasn't sure she liked it. She didn't tell him though. She said, "Thank you, it's very pretty."

He looked at the locket around her neck, but avoided eye contact with her, "It looks good on you."

She tried to get him to look at her, but he kept his eyes on the piece of jewelry, "It must have belonged to someone very special."

He had no intention of telling her who it used to belong to, but she was right, it had great personal value, "I had great affection for its prior owner."

Cathy had her suspicions about prior ownership, but kept them to herself, "I hope I can live up to the standards of the previous owner."

He put his hands back on her shoulders, turned her around, and cupped her chin up with the thumb and index finger of his left hand, "You have a lot of potential."

She didn't get that, but she liked it, "Kiss me."

He put his hands back on her shoulders, leaned down, and kissed her tender lips. He thought she had the sweetest lips and softest most delicate look he'd ever seen. Too bad there's a serpent hiding behind that mask. Grinning broadly he said, "You get on downstairs so our Spanish ladies can fill you in on your duties my little serving girl."

Sometime before Cathy ever arrived Steve had hired two ladies from Puerto Rico. They were American citizens through and through, but he liked to tease them by calling them his Spanish ladies. They accepted his low keyed bigotry with good nature. Both were married; their husbands both worked somewhere in the area. What they did wasn't his business so he never tried to pry. 

Both ladies generally knew the circumstances regarding Cathy's presence, and both had tacitly agreed to keep a safe distance. He was sure of their loyalty, especially since he paid them quite handsomely.

Feeling awkward, totally out of her element Cathy curtsied, "Yes mi' lord." She turned and dashed out of the room. As she scampered down the hall to the stairs she started to have that odd hot sensation she only ever seemed to have with Steve. No other man ever made her feel in that special way. She hoped that later, after everything was done and everyone else was gone he'd take her in his arms. She reached up and fingered the little locket again. She giggled and commented out loud, "This isn't like you Cathy. You actually could be his little maid." 

She skipped all the way down the stairs thinking, if this was how a young maid would have felt back in the days of Lords and ladies, then she could understand how some young girls might have enjoyed being the obedient little maid, serving, and waiting on some young lord hand and foot. She could do that with Steve. 

She reached the bottom step and stopped. A little out of breath she hesitated to tidy herself up before she spoke to the Spanish ladies. She pressed down her apron, and checked her shoes and socks. Everything looked excellent. 

Steve had planned well ahead for the evening's party. He'd invited five of his best friends. There were several reasons for the party, and for his selection of guests. First, of course he wanted to renew and reaffirm longstanding friendships. Second, he hoped to enlist some financial support for an addition to the small hospice he'd been supporting, and, considering their relationship with him and his deceased wife, he was very optimistic they'd give him at least some of what he needed. Then there was Cathy. All five guests knew and understood the special circumstances surrounding his current live in companion. In fact it had been through their collective efforts that he'd become fully aware of Cathy's predatory past. 

Regarding Cathy's activities during the party Steve had set thing things up as carefully as he could. He'd explained to her how important this evening's party was to him, and how important it was for her be a gracious and cooperative hostess. What Cathy didn't know was that his guests knew full well who she was, and tonight at the party they were to be participants, active co-conspirators, in some mild humiliation of the young malefactor. Steve wanted to see just how far he could push the young woman. He wanted to see, in a sense, just what she was made of. 

The Party Begins:

Steve got downstairs just a few seconds behind his erstwhile house companion, and just in time to hear the doorbell ring. He got Cathy's eye and motioned toward the door. She straightened the hem and shape of her skirt for what seemed like the eleventh time, and went to the door.

First to arrive was Theresa Stockton. Theresa had been Leah's maid of honor at their wedding, she was Steve's closest female friend, and it had been she who, more than anyone else, had held him together during those first awful weeks after Leah's tragic demise. 




Too Clever by a Mile Ch. 02



Cathy opened the front door and Theresa walked in. Without a glance at the young uniformed woman Theresa doffed her coat and handed it to her. She chided, "Please do be careful; its leather you know."

Cathy knew who Theresa was. She'd seen her once at the hospice, and a few times at the house. Steve had never introduced them since it seemed Cathy was always busy somewhere doing something when Theresa appeared. She didn't especially like Theresa. She considered her high handed and unnecessarily condescending. She took the heavy leather coat, and placed it on a hanger. She smiled sweetly at the woman, "Yes ma'am."

Theresa ignored the smarmy smile and comment. She brushed past Cathy as though she didn't exist. She saw Steve and gushed, "Oh Steve I'm so glad to see you." She rushed into the room, and gave Steve an affectionate kiss on the cheek.

Cathy stealthily watched the niceties from the foyer. She thought the other woman's hand rested a little too comfortably on Steve's inner thigh. She wondered if there had ever been anything between the two of them. The thought made her like the woman even less.

The bell rang a second time. Cathy turned and opened the door. Two couples, the Martin's and the Peregoy's, brushed by her. As they passed each indifferently dropped their coat on a nearby chair. One of the women, she guessed it was Mrs. Austin looked in her direction. Denying Cathy any eye contact she said, "Hang these up, and be careful." 

Cathy thought to herself, what am I going to do? Step on them? That's what she thought, but she kept her mouth shut and her face blank. She obsequiously replied, "Yes, ma'am." 

As the four well dressed people, none of them much older than her, sailed into the living room without so much as a backward glance Cathy imagined this must be what it's like to be considered and treated as an inferior. Whatever it was she knew she didn't like it.

Steve watched Cathy muddle around with the big heavy coats. He called into the foyer, "Cathy bring in your little pad and pencil, find out what everyone will be having to drink, and try to keep their orders straight."

Cathy sighed, took out her tiny spiral pad and scurried into the living room. She'd get their drink orders and take them to the waiting bartender Steve had hired for the evening.

While Cathy silently circled the outer edge of the small group she overheard them talking about football, politics, the war in Afghanistan, and Iran. Most of what they said was pretty mundane. With the drink orders in hand she went to the bartender and waited. 

As she stood there Mrs. Peregoy summoned her with the crook of an index finger. Cathy put down her little pad and scampered back to the seated group.

Mrs. Peregoy, her first name was Glynnis, with her right hand held upward palm down said, "You're Cathy aren't you?"

Cathy answered, "Yes, ma'am."

Glynnis let her lifted her palm casually point in the direction of the kitchen, "Well Cathy, do be a good girl. Go in the kitchen and bring us out some snacks." She glanced over at Theresa Stockton and added, "I'm just so famished, haven't had anything to eat since noon." She looked back at the still stationary Cathy, "Well dear, do go on." She took her hand and moved it as if to shush the girl on.

As Cathy walked toward the kitchen she overheard Mrs. Peregoy comment to Steve, "A little slow isn't she."

She cringed when she heard Steve reply, "She's a good girl. She tries hard."

Back in the kitchen the two Spanish ladies were busily preparing dinner. Cathy walked in and asked, "Do we have any snacks?"

The Spanish ladies both spoke fluent English, and Cathy sort of knew that, but this time they looked back and forth at each other like they couldn't understand her. 

Cathy thought they spoke English, but didn't want to get into a pissing contest with the two women she probably would need to rely on all evening so she did what everyone typically does when they think they're communicating with someone who doesn't understand the language. She spoke slower and louder, "Do we have any snacks for the guests?"

One of the Spanish ladies turned around in what was apparently anger or disgust, "We heard you the first time. What, you think we're stupid?"

Cathy was completely off her oats. She couldn't have felt worse. She was doing to these nice people what Mrs. Peregoy had just done to her in the living room, "No. I'm mean no I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

She never got a chance to finish. One of the ladies pushed a tray filled with crackers and cheeses in front of her; "here." She turned away.

Cathy took the tray, as she turned to go back in the living room she made a last appeal, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

The woman had already turned away. Cathy felt like someone who'd just drowned a basketful of kittens. She sped back to the living room.

What Cathy didn't hear as she left the kitchen was the two women speaking in Spanish. In a loose translation of their brief conversation one asserted how badly she felt having to be so rough on the girl, and the other agreed citing the considerate way Cathy had treated them the whole time she'd been there. The first agreed and suggested they say something to Steve when it was all over. The second nodded.

Cathy got back in the living room just in time to see Steve point at her and then at the bartender. Oh my she thought, the drinks. She tiptoed over to the waiting and obviously unhappy bartender. 

When she got there the bartender looked at her and said, "Where have you been. Their drinks are going to be all watery."

Cathy looked at the drink tray and saw the drinks arrayed in a neat circle. She forced a smile at the bartender, "Don't worry I'll get them right over." She picked up her tray and looked around for her spiral pad. She looked at the bartender, "Where's my pad?"

He looked incredulous, "What pad?"

She turned white. Eyes wide with fear she replied, "My pad with my notes on who gets what drink."

He looked at her with contempt, "I don't know where you put your pad. Don't you remember?"

She didn't, and what was worse when she looked at the drinks she couldn't tell one from the other. They'd all ordered something with color. She didn't have a clue. She looked over at the partiers. They were all looking at her. She looked at the bartender, "I don't know."

He didn't smile, "Don't know what?"

For all she was worth, though Cathy had been around drinkers and at parties for years she seldom drank anything herself, and never paid any attention to what other people had. Waitresses and waiters always brought those things. She'd never had to do it, not once. She was desperate, "I don't know which drink is which."

The bartender gave her a quick review, "This is a Jack and coke, this is Jim Beam and coke, that's an Old Fashioned, this here is a Margarita, that's a Manhattan, and that's a Long Island Iced Tea. 

She looked them over, "OK Jim Beam, Jack Daniels, Manhattan, Old Fashioned, an Iced Tea, and a Margarita."

He corrected her, "Long Island Iced Tea."

She nodded, "OK, Long Island." She picked up the tray and dashed over to the circle of partiers. She looked around. No one was smiling, She asked, "OK, who gets the Margarita."

Theresa Stockton raised her hand.

She passed her the Margarita.

Now who gets the Jack Daniels?" Barry Austin held his hand up. She handed him his.

Now who gets...?"

Mr.Austin tasted the drink and interrupted her, "This is Jim Beam."

Cathy looked at him. Now she was confused, "Oh." She took back the Jim beam, "Who gets the Jim Beam?"

Steve held up his hand, "I get the Jim Beam.

Cathy handed him the recently tasted Jim Beam.

Steve stopped her, "Cathy do you know what you're doing?"

She was scared. She wanted to cry, "I'm giving every one their drinks."

He looked at her with compassion; it was the first nonthreatening look she'd gotten in forty minutes, "You gave me a drink somebody else already drank from."

She was crushed. What should she do? She put the tray down on the coffee table that sat in the middle of the circle of people. I'll be right back." She looked at Steve, "You get a Jim Beam, and Mr. Peregoy gets a Jack Daniels."

Steve corrected her, "No Mr. Austin gets the Jack Daniels. I get a Jim Beam. Mrs. Austin gets the Manhattan."

Cathy wanted to cry, "Oh, I'll be right back." She started for the bartender again.

Steve stood up and caught her by the arm. He gently swung her back around. He watched as she took her index finger and pushed her glasses further up her nose. When she looked back up at him he saw she had that bright eyed near tears look again. He spoke more softly, "I'll get the drinks. You go in the kitchen and get some more snacks." 

She stood motionless for several seconds. She put the fingers of her left hand to her lips. She nodded and started to run for the kitchen.

Steve called after her, "Slow..."she slipped over the rug"...down."

When she fell forward the light frothy material of her skirt flipped up around her waist exposing her snow white panties replete with the small white bow in the back. She jumped back up. The woolen fabric of the rug had scraped some of the skin off her knees leaving red burn marks. It hurt. She ran for the kitchen.

As she ran she heard Mrs. Peregoy, "Well I never..."

Mrs. Austin chimed in, "I wonder where Steve found her?"

Mr. Austin came to her defense in that way only a self gratifying over sexed man could, "Oh come on. She looked kind of sweet. Allen did you see that cute bow?"

Carol Austin shut him up, "I thought it looked tacky." 

By then Steve had made it back with a new set of drinks. He passed them around and excused himself, "I'm going to check on dinner." 

Steve went back to the kitchen where he found Cathy squatting on a stool in the corner. He walked over and leaned down. He put his hand on her head, "You OK?"

She'd obviously just started to cry. She hiccoughed, sniffed, and wiped her nose, "I'm fine." She wasn't fine. She felt horrible, her knees hurt, and now on top of everything Steve was standing over her with his hand on the top of her head like she was some kind of puppy dog.

He shook her head back and forth, "It'll be all right. Wait here."

Steve stepped to the back pantry where numerous odds and ends were stored. He came back in the kitchen with two small bottles, "Iodine or Mercurochrome?"

Cathy sniffed, "Mercurochrome."

Steve opened the bottle and took the small swab and dabbed the medicine on each knee. He closed he bottle, and patted her head again, "Now get yourself together and let our Spanish ladies show you how to bring out the dinner."

She looked up and nodded. This was the stupidest she'd ever felt in her life. She was supposed to be the clever one, the one who was going to fleece the fool. Now she was the fool. She nodded again and put her hand in his, "I'm sorry. I'll do better."

He reached down, pinched her chin softly, and fiddled with the little locket, "I know." Then he left.

She wondered if he was sorry he'd given her the locket. She figured she wouldn't blame him if he asked for it back.

Steve got back in sat down with his friends, "Cathy's having a tough time right now."

Theresa smiled.

Barry looked at him, "That was sadistic sending her in for snacks then hiding her pad." 

Steve looked around at his friends, "I'm beginning to wonder. She's supposed to be some kind of sophisticated clever bitch. She doesn't even know her drinks. She's in there crying right now; she thinks she's letting me down."

Glynnis Peregoy, so far the biggest bitch of the night, but in reality the sweetest of the women suggested, "Maybe we should go easier on her at dinner."

Steve agreed, "Yes, let's keep it light at dinner, and then afterward during after dinner drinks and dessert we'll tighten up a little."

Barry had a better idea, "Steve this girl is no femme fatale. Maybe we could trick her into answering a few questions."

Theresa Stockton nodded her agreement, "I agree. If this girl was able to clean out two other men then what kind of fools were they?"

Carol nodded her agreement too, "I don't think she's even that pretty." 

Barry trumped his wife. He looked at Steve, "You see something don't you?"

Steve sort of looked away, like he was off somewhere else, "She has potential."

Cathy stepped from the kitchen door. Everyone could she'd been crying, her eyes were red, her make-up looked smeared, and her knees were orange, "Dinner is ready." She held out her arm and, palm up, pointed to the dining room. 

Dinner went pretty smoothly. Cathy got the salads out; some wanted Caesar, some a regular tossed, one wanted spinach. She noticed she must have made a mistake because when her back was turned the men exchanged their plates. 

The entree was a lot harder. She was a nervous wreck, especially knowing she'd screwed up the salads. She got the pork and the lamb confused, and the Cod and the Flounder mixed up, but nobody said anything. She rationalized, why hadn't Steve arranged that everyone have the same thing. If they all had spaghetti things would have gone great.

Mr. Austin deliberately dropped his napkin on the floor, and she had to bend down to pick it up. 

She could tell he was trying to see something. For once she was glad she had on a tight collared dress and a skirt long enough to cover both her legs and rear end. She also felt affirmed about the exercises Steve made her do, and Steve's preference for a snugly fitting camisole rather than the padded uplift bra she might have worn had it been any other time. She also caught the disapproving look Steve gave Barry; that she thought was very reassuring.

Following dinner everyone retired back into the living room for after dinner drinks. Cathy figured she was probably in for another round of watery fluids and humiliating mistakes. To her surprise she found after dinner alcohols were commonly handled directly by the bartender. Later she found out the truth that the bartender was afraid of losing his gratuity, but that didn't come till later. All she was expected to do was carry around a few trays of snacks and a small after dinner dessert tray. 

After Dinner:

It was while she passed around the desserts that her number came up again. She'd just finished her first round with the tray when Ms. Stockton stopped her. Theresa eyed Cathy up and down, "Come over here."

Cathy dutifully scuttled over to Ms. Stockton. 

Theresa eyed the locket around her neck, "Kneel down a minute."

Cathy knelt in front of the woman.

Theresa took her left hand and fidgeted with the locket. She traced the outline of the etching on he locket with her fingernail She wondered if the woman wearing it knew what it meant, "Steve wasn't this Leah's?"

Steve gave Theresa a look like there was no tomorrow, "Yes."

"You gave it to her?"

"Yes."

Theresa leaned way forward and took the fingers of her right hand and placed them against Cathy's left cheek, "Come over closer." 

Cathy looked up, confused, she about as close as she could get.

Theresa took a long nailed finger and pointed to the carpet directly at her feet, "Down here."

Cathy didn't want to, but she knew Steve wanted her to be cooperative. She got up and moved closer. She knelt directly on the carpet. It hurt her sore knees. If she'd gotten any closer she would have been on right on the woman's feet. She kept her eyes focused on the carpet, not daring to look up. She was afraid. Why she didn't know, but she knew she should be afraid of this person.

Theresa took her left hand and touched the locket again. She used her finger tips and almost lovingly smoothed over the white collar of Cathy's uniform. She let the tips of her fingers lightly touch beneath Cathy's chin. She commented, "It's pretty, very stylish, youthful."

Cathy wasn't sure of she was talking about the necklace or her.

The woman slid her fingers up and down Cathy's right arm, using them to touch the thin white edges of the sleeve of her blouse. Then she took both hands and rested them just below Cathy's breasts, "Do you mind?"

Cathy kept her head down but shifted her eyes to the woman's face. She realized Ms. Stockton was asking for permission to touch her breasts. She felt so small; she wished she could've crawled away and hid someplace. She looked up back down at the carpet, "It's OK."

Theresa used both hands. She reached down and gently lifted her breasts. She was able to hold them comfortably in her hands, "They're quite small."

Cathy kept her head down but looked up with her eyes. This was certainly the most humiliating moment of her life. She barely murmured, "Yes."

Everybody watched the little drama that was playing out in front of them. Ms. Stockton, best friend of Steve's deceased wife, primary investor in all Steve's activities, certainly the most influential person in the room was evaluating the young woman they all suspected of being a swindler and cheat. Ms. Stockton, tall, confident, Cathy small and looking very frail; it was like watching a mantis about to wrap its arms around a butterfly. They wondered if she would suck the life out of the young woman right there where they sat.

Theresa let go of the woman's breasts. She took her right hand, placed it under Cathy's chin and lifted her face. Cathy still kept her eyes averted, looking downward. Ms. Stockton said, "No woman's harness I see."

Cathy did look up then. She smiled softly and answered with a little more confidence at the inside joke, "No."

Theresa continued to hold her chin, "How old are you Cathy?"

She blushed, "Twenty-seven."

Theresa commented, "I would have guessed much younger." She looked away, "OK, you can get up."

The group breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Cathy was overcome. She realized Steve had given her a locket that had belonged to his wife, and she knew Theresa was the dead wife's best friend. Cathy also sensed that Theresa knew something more, something very important about her, but she wasn't saying anything. She also felt like she'd been tested, and she thought she'd somehow failed. She got back up and stepped away from the circled guests.

She stood in the background while the guests all talked about trivia. In the midst of everything Barry brought up the main topic, "So Steve you're looking to expand the hospice?"

"Yes, I thought I'd add another wing."

Glynnis commented, "That won't be cheap."

Steve smiled, "I'll need lots of help from my friends."

Everyone laughed. They all knew this was the main reason they were there.

Theresa stopped the levity, "You have any ideas about size, about costs?"

Steve looked pointedly at Cathy, "Cathy go in my office, and bring out that stack of folders on the corner of my desk."

Relieved at the chance to do something, to move around. She got up, "Yes sir. 

She started for his office, but before she could escape Theresa stopped her again, "Wait a minute. Come back here Cathy."

Cathy looked at Steve, then came back.

Theresa pointed to the top of the coffee table, "Sit down a minute."

Sitting at the coffee table would place her directly in middle of the entire group. She'd be seated on a table that was perhaps six inches high, much lower than everyone seated around her on sofas and chairs. She took the seat Theresa pointed to.

Theresa looked her up and down, "Has Steve said anything to you about his plans to expand the hospice?" Theresa asked this because she had a suspicion that if this woman could get into anything regarding money it would be any investments in the hospice.

Cathy looked at Steve first, but before she could answer an equally suspicious Glynnis piped up, "Well?"

Cathy looked at Stave again and then at the two people she could see, "Steve and I have talked about it, yes."




Too Clever by a Mile Ch. 02



Theresa thought she had her, "Did he mention money?"

Cathy had no idea where this was going, "A little, mostly about how expensive it would be."

Glynnis asked, "Did he offer to underwrite anything in your name?"

Cathy smiled. They'd talked about things like that, "Yes, he and I talked about some of the kinds of rooms we'd, I mean the hospice would have."

Theresa murmured, "Really, do tell."

Cathy was a little excited. She thought they really wanted to know about the hospice, and in spite of her original purpose for meeting Steve, and the horrible experience she'd just had she wanted to tell them what she knew about the project, "We talked about play rooms, and parent waiting rooms, and parent sleeping areas, and a food court, and a...she hesitated"

Theresa pushed her, "Yes?"

Cathy thought of Ginger. She involuntarily put her hands on her cheeks and looked down at the floor. "There would be a room..." she couldn't get Ginger off her mind "...where we would say good bye." Her eyes had started to cloud up, but she quickly recovered "... and a special room for those in remission." There she got it out.

Theresa persisted, "How did you come into this?"

Cathy answered, "He..." she pointed to Steve"... he said my name could go on the remission room while Leah's name would go on the good bye room." 

Cathy was done and she knew it; if they asked her many more questions about the hospice she'd break down. She looked at Theresa, "Can I go get the folders now?"

Theresa looked away, "Yes go get the folders."

Cathy leaped to her feet and half skipped half ran to Steve's office.

Theresa looked at Steve, "She's wearing my best friend's locket, and you're naming rooms after her at the hospice?"

Cathy was on her way back in when she heard Steve say, "It was just talk. I haven't decided on anything."

Theresa looked at the others, "Right, just talk."

Steve got mad, "Theresa I love you. You're like a sister to me, but I invited you here to offer you a chance to get in on what could be a great and wonderful thing. Don't spoil it. I gave Cathy a locket, so what, it wasn't Leah's anymore, it was mine, and I wanted her to have it. If I name a room after her..." He pointed to Cathy, "and you're on the board of directors and oppose it, then her name won't go on."

Theresa was taken aback, "Steve."

"Theresa I need your help. I want to leave a legacy in memory of my wife. This is about Leah!" He'd completely forgotten one of the other purposes of the dinner party was to find a way to expose Cathy. He'd gotten lost in his own mental meanderings about the hospice.

Barry calmed everyone down, "Steve we know why we're here. Have you forgotten? Of course the hospice is important, and you knew before we all got here all of us are in it for the long haul. Now let's just simmer down."

Steve looked at Theresa, "I'm sorry Terry. I just, well."

She knew, she understood, "It's OK, and you know you have me."

Allen had his folder open, "Let's look some of this over."

Steve looked at Cathy. He flicked his hand and pointed to the kitchen, "Coffee."

Cathy jumped up, glad to be out of the line of fire, and double glad to have something to do, "Yes sir." She scampered back to the kitchen.

For the next two hours they read Steve's proposals and looked over the plans and the prospectus he had developed. By the time they got through everything it was close to 12:30. Steve told them where their rooms were, and where the toiletries could be found. Since everyone had been to Steve's many times before, and all of them had had many overnights there in the past, his directions were more than adequate. One by one they collected their folders and worked their way to their rooms.

To Cathy's surprise the guests, all five of them, had been asked to stay the night. Cathy was exhausted, and she hoped Steve was just about finished with her. Waiting on these people had proved to be far more tiring than she ever imagined a small dinner party could be.

An After Party Surprise:

Steve had just finished his after dinner coffee. All his guests looked like they were getting ready to go upstairs. He could see Cathy was dead both physically and emotionally. She'd taken quite a lot for him. He smiled and crooked his finger at her.

Cathy, still playing the little maid, scurried over, "Sir?"

He took her left hand in his right, "Why don't you go upstairs. Slip into your pajamas. Come back down when you're ready, and we'll say good night."

Dumbstruck Cathy nodded. Still in her role as maid she replied, "Yes sir." She walked purposefully toward and up the stairs to the bedroom they shared. She'd been confused and out of sorts all night, what between the high handed manner of that woman Theresa and some of the other guests, but this last, this strange order to get ready for bed and then come back for a goodnight? A goodnight what, a goodnight kiss, a goodnight pat in the head? She'd felt like some kind of trained pet all night as it was. Still, if that's what he wanted... 

She reached the bedroom wondering what kind of pajamas he'd laid out for her. She crossed the threshold. There on the bed they were waiting. She walked over checked them out. They weren't too bad, quite nice actually a silk pajama set, a pair of shorty pajama pants and a nice looking top. 

She quickly slipped out of her maid outfit, the panties', and the camisole, and put on the pajamas. She was careful to slip the necklace he'd given her over the collar before doffing the uniform. The pajamas were a vivid white silk, the pants were loose fitting, quite comfortable, and the top was equally loose, it buttoned up the front to a low cut V-necked collar. 

She ran into the bathroom, washed off her make up, and brushed out her hair. Since she'd been there he'd been making her cut it shorter and shorter. Tonight he'd made her have that preposterous little flip in the front. Now she liked it. She wondered who Audrey Hepburn was. She'd check her out on the Internet. She wondered what was next. She wondered what she was doing. He was taking her over more and more. She was so excited. Her brain was going a mile a minute.

Talk about being taken over, he'd even taken away her contacts. She cleaned the glasses he'd given her. She slipped the black high heeled shoes back on, sans socks, and swept on back downstairs to the dining room. On the way down she considered how much of her prior life, her prior person-hood had disappeared. Steve really was taking her over. Somehow she didn't mind; in some ways she liked it. 

When she got there Steve was waiting. He was alone. She asked, "Where are our guests?"

He walked over and pulled her to him, "They're already in their bedrooms. I had one of the other maids; you know one of our Spanish ladies lead them off."

She didn't like the way he said, one of the other maids. She wasn't really a maid, but she let it go, after tonight anything could happen, "Are we finally really alone?"

He smiled softly and pulled her over to the big sofa, "Come over here a minute. I have something for you."

Cathy allowed him to pull her along. She made sure he saw she was wearing the locket.

They reached the sofa. He sat down and pulled her down on his lap. He took his left arm and pulled her in close. He used the thumb and forefinger of his right hand to pull her chin up to his face. He kissed her, "You were a lovely girl tonight. I'm very proud of you."

She kissed him back. She thought, 'Maybe I'll get something out of this awful night after all.' She didn't want to be his 'lovely girl', she wanted to get laid. Between kisses she whispered, "I love you Steve."

He kept kissing her while he slowly, one by one, undid the buttons on her pajama top. When he got the last one undone he pulled her top out and away from her breasts. She had beautiful breasts. 

When she'd first arrived they'd been a thirty-four B cup. They were a little smaller now after the exercises she'd been doing for him and the new kind of robust ointments and salves he'd been rubbing her down with nearly every night. The ointments actually didn't cause her breasts to shrink; that couldn't happen, but the moisturizers did have the affect of helping them to tauten up a little more. 

He knew she was uncomfortable about her breast size; the exercises made them firmer, and like anything that firmed up her breasts they seemed to be slightly smaller. They were maybe just a little, but not really, but then for a woman who might feel a little self-conscious about that sort of thing it might cause her some worry. That's what he wanted; anything that would undermine her confidence. 

He leaned forward and kissed each beautiful rosebud, "I love your breasts, and your nipples and your aureoles are perfect. I like that they are a little smaller. It makes you look and act younger. I like that."

She allowed herself to lean up for the attention, but she didn't like the comment. She knew it was the exercising, and probably the moisturizers he used on her, but she did sense a slight diminution in her cup size. If he let her put on one of her old brassieres she'd be able to confirm it. He wouldn't do that though. He'd put them away someplace, and she hadn't been able to find them.

He kept fondling and kissing her breasts for another two or three minutes, then he shifted to her vagina. A few days earlier she'd let him shave her, and he'd followed the shaving with daily visits to her puss with soft creams that further eroded her vaginal hair, it added to the softness of an already delicate region, and it heightened her sensitivity to his touch. 

He'd been very careful not to overdo the fondling and rubbing. Too much attention could lead to sensations of irritation, but just the right amount of attention served to increase her awareness of her budding labia, then there was that thin deep cavern between those fleshy labial cliffs, plus her always excited always engorged clitoris, and last that added special place he'd been attending to that he called her peach which really was the gateway to the inner regions of her rear end. 

Steve got her panties down around her ankles. He stood up and pulled her to her feet, "Come on."

She allowed herself to be helped back up.

He guided her to the large full length mirror that was at the end of the dining room. He held her beside him while he caressed each dark brown nipple, "Look at them Cathy. They're beautiful."

Cathy self-consciously looked at herself in the mirror. Yes, she thought, they were pretty, smaller but certainly pretty

He took two fingers of his right hand and squeezed her labial lips together. The soft skin, denuded of all hair, looked a child's vagina. It felt that way too. He softly pinched her labia; he took his thumb and gently rubbed it over her clitoris. He used his other fingers to squeeze the bottom of her pussy. He could feel her reaction, her rising warmth at his touch. He could feel the moisture begin to emerge from her uterine walls. He took his fingers and pressed in a little more tightly. He knew not to press too hard, not this soon. He felt her press against his hand.

He kissed the top of her head. Standing side by side Steve was a full ten maybe twelve inches taller. He could look down at her and see everything, every movement, every nuanced reaction. He could see how her flesh responded to his touch, how it grew warmer, pinker, and more responsive with every careful smoothing of his fingertips, "You have a beautiful, a perfect little puss. Did you know that?"

She pressed against him more tightly. She wanted to be able to reach up and kiss him, but she was too short, and the way her head was trapped under his she couldn't see his face, "Cut it out."

"No it's true. You're beautiful. It's like a child's puss, all pink and clean and pure."

References to her new childlike appearance down there made her more self-conscious, more insecure, less sure of herself. She didn't know quite what to say, "I love you Steve."

He took her two hands and held them close together in his one right hand. 

For Cathy the power of his one hand holding her two so tightly was felt like what it must like to be in handcuffs. 

Holding her in just that fashion he led her back upstairs to the bedroom.

All the way up the steps she smiled to herself, yes she was going to something out of this embarrassing and humiliating night after all. She felt all wet between her legs.

++++++++++++

Another note from the writer:

If anyone's still there chapter three will be up as soon as this chapter is on site.Remember, this story is finished so, if you're enjoying it, you won't be frustrated by something not done. By the way this really s a love story. 

If you were reading Love in the Cross Hairs it's not quite done. Won't be long though. Last, don't forget to vote and leave a comment. Try not to be anonymous. If you join the site you can make up any name you want and use that as your comment personality. 



Too Clever by a Mile Ch. 03



Chapter Three:
The Bedroom:



Steve pushed the door open. Still holding her two hands tightly in one of his he marched over to the bed with Cathy trailing along behind. He sat on the side of the bed and pulled her close so that she was standing between his legs. He could see she was already terribly excited, her vagina was visibly damp, and her labial lips were puffy. He let go of her hands, Close your eyes and stand still. If I see you with your eyes open I'll spank you." 

His tight grip on her hands, though it hurt ever so slightly and she probably could have easily pulled free, had been very arousing. She guessed the compression on her wrists plus the feeling of helplessness was what stirred her up. 

He'd just threatened to spank her, and just the threat had a stirring effect. She had only been spanked once before by another man, and she remembered how much she'd liked it. It seemed awful to admit to it now, even if it was just to herself after so many years, but she remembered the hard swats, the tingling on her butt cheeks, the bright red hands marks, the man's tight grip around her waist, and the excitement that followed. It had a powerful emotional impact on her; he'd been in charge, really in charge, she was his, at his mercy, at least that's what she pretended. It was like a fantasy. 

It had been her first husband. She'd done something he really hated, and he wanted to punish her. That was the first and only time her first husband ever got her off, but brother it was some first and only time. Of course, imagining to be at some man's mercy, his slave, a hopeless hapless sex toy, was great fun in the mind, but she'd never let it happen in reality, that was stuff for dreams, not the real world.

Steve took his two hands and firmly smoothed down her arms forcing her her hands to her sides, "Don't move, eyes closed."

She dutifully kept her arms down and her eyes shut. He'd taken his hands away. She wondered what would happen next. She found out almost right away. She felt him putting something around her waist. It felt like cloth, but it was firm. It was some kind of waist cincher, maybe a bustier or small corset. She felt what must be small whale bone or plastic stays press in against her torso. He turned her around, and she felt him tightening up the laces in the back. It was a corset of some sort. There were broad strips of silk or something hanging down in the back. He'd finished lacing her up. It wasn't too tight. She was glad of that. She felt him take the two thick pieces of she guessed satin or silk ribbon and tie them off in what must have been a monstrous bow in the back.

She wondered where he'd hidden the thing, must have been under the bed all the time. She hadn't noticed it when she got her pajamas on a few minutes earlier. She still kept her eyes closed. She didn't want to do anything to spoil this. He turned her back around.

Steve got the corset bow tied off in the back. The thing was bright red, and wrapped around her from just above her navel to just below her rib cage. He hoped it wasn't uncomfortable. He wanted something tight around her, but not so tight as to be discomfiting. On each side of the bustier there were soft leather wrist manacles held to the bustier by short lengths of soft thick silk rope. He took her left wrist and buckled the manacle on. He did the same with the right. Now her hands were bound and attached at her waist. Of course she could squirm and wriggle the thing all out whack if she wanted to, but he doubted if she'd try that. After his little preliminary game with the red ribbons tying her hands behind her back, he had a hunch she liked being made to feel helpless. He smiled as he looked up at her closed eyes; she had no idea what he had in store for her in the days to come. 

Since the ribbon and his realization she liked being retrained he'd been looking around on the Internet. He saw this one thing where a woman's two hands were held in place by a single device that closed over both wrists and locked them together with one tiny lock. The neatest thing he thought would be to buy it but only use something like a nut and bolt or key chain hoop to hold it together. She'd see it, know she was held by something that any other time she could easily undo, but because of its location she'd know she was trapped. He thought that could be totally cool. He nearly bought it. He would have too, but he wasn't into bondage like she apparently was. Then again maybe he would buy it, fastened her in it, and leave her home to wander around the house all day. That could be fun. He could fasten her hands in front with her palms up. She be able to walk around, but she wouldn't be able to pick up or hold anything. Yeah, he thought, he'd have to buy it.

Cathy felt the wrist bands go on. This was exciting; she was going on a strange and new adventure. She was glad it was Steve. She felt like she knew him well enough not to be afraid. Besides she really loved him. She wanted to do things to please him. If he had a few silly kinks she'd play along. His hands were warm and firm, calloused like a man's hand should be but not hard and coarse like hard work was all he did. 

She smelled the coffee on his breath and she could still get a whiff of his cologne, no after shave. He wore some kind of spicy after shave, maybe Old Spice. She thought it was a manly aroma, not sweet and clingy like some of the stuff men could buy. 

He had a strong firm body. He wasn't one of those gym freaks, not like those guys who worked out all day pumping iron and then staring at their bodies in mirrors. No he wasn't narcissistic like that, but he was strong and well muscled, not muscle bound. He wasn't some Hulk Hogan. He was more the Liam Neeson type. He wasn't as tall as Liam Neeson, but he was a lot taller than her five foot four. He wasn't as pretty as Neeson either. Steve wasn't handsome, but he had personality and he was sensitive and thoughtful.

Cathy leaned forward, and tried to press against him just a little. She liked the feel of his body against hers. At night in bed his body was like a little furnace, all hot and dry. He had a little tummy, not a big gut, just a little tummy. No his abs were not made of steel, but they were nice and firm. 

She liked everything about him, his hazel eyes, his sandy colored hair, the way it always looked like it needed to be combed, his warm friendly smile, his deep resonant voice. She liked the sound of the, 'Now Cathy' he made when he wanted to cajole her about something. 

She liked that he paid attention to her, that he listened to everything she said. She liked how he asked questions. He was interested in what she thought. He did lots of things she liked. He held doors, pulled out chairs at the restaurant, walked on the outside on the sidewalk. He liked to guide her by the elbow when they walked around.

His voice was so manly, so masculine, so deep, like a father even. Not that she wanted a father, not her. Some women married men a lot older than they were because they're looking for someone like that, a daddy. She didn't want a daddy. Steve was just right. She was twenty-seven, he was twenty-nine. They could get married, have kids of their own, and help them grow up. She bet he'd be a good dad.

She sighed. He was smoothing up and down the outer parts of her upper thighs with the palms of his hands. He was always touching her, but touching her in ways that were good. Her husbands had been gropers; Steve was a toucher. He didn't paw, he caressed. She cried out in her mind, Steve reach inside. 'Get inside my thighs. You know where I want those hands!'

Steve saw how wet she was getting. He loved it. She was so responsive. He looked up. She still had her eyes closed. He stood up and kissed her. She kissed him back. He thought, so obedient, so responsive, so willing to please. She couldn't be what they'd told him. He turned her around and half walked half pushed her toward the full length mirror on the outer side of the bathroom door. He wanted her to see how she looked. He reached the mirror, "OK, you can open your eyes."

It had been a real test of her personal self control to keep her eyes closed. Now at last she opened them. Again he was standing behind her while they looked in a mirror. He asked, "What do you think?"

She leaned back against him while she looked at herself; hands held at her side, bright red bustier with tiny black buttons holding her waist in place, "Could I see the bow in back?"

He half turned her so she could see.

It was a bright red bow made of the same silk material as the bustier. She wasn't sure exactly how she looked. She liked it. It made her look sexy. It was too bad about her face; if only she were a pretty girl, not some wallflower. She leaned her face against his chest. She looked at him. He looked so big, so strong, so in charge.

She got eye contact through the mirror. He was so handsome. She told him, "Steve, you're so handsome. I want to stay with you. I want to stay with you forever. You don't have to marry me, just let me stay. I'll be your maid like tonight. You want a sex toy? I'll do whatever you want." She meant it too. He was a good man. He was genuine, and he didn't care that she was ugly.

He squeezed her little bit, "That's nice. Now tell me what you think of the way you look."

She pushed her head tightly against his chest, "It's a pretty outfit, a pretty outfit on an ugly girl."

He turned her around, "You know how I feel about that. Words like ugly and pretty. They're verbs not nouns. Right now I think you're gorgeously sexy, but pretty or ugly? Well you have potential."

"Potential?"

Cathy I don't know about you. I like to think I do, but, well, I think the jury's still out. You could be pretty, really beautiful, then again you might be a monster."

She didn't understand that. She'd been careful, she hadn't done anything to cause him to have doubts, "Tell me. What do I have to do to be beautiful for you?"

"Right now? Come with me to bed."

Together they walked over to the bed. He pulled down the bedspread and helped her lie down. He walked around and got in the other side. On his way around he stopped at the foot of the bed. She lay there, helpless, hands at her sides. She was so small. She said she didn't like her eyes, but actually she had pretty eyes. She looked so frail; she had a timid smile on her face. It occurred to him she might be a little bit afraid, like she wasn't completely sure of him, like maybe she was a little afraid he might hurt her. The thought crossed his mind; he could hurt her. He knew he never would. He knew what he wanted to do sometime. He looked at her tiny hands and feet, "You know what I'm going to do one of these days?"

She looked a little alarmed, "I don't know what?"

"I'm going to get some nail polish and do your finger and toe nails."

"You're going to do what?"

"Paint your nails. I think that would be fun." He grinned, "Right now though let's kiss some more."

She wriggled over closer to his side of the bed for a kiss.

He put his left hand around her head. He liked her hair. It was shorter than when she first showed up. The color didn't really matter. He liked brown hair anyway. He thought he'd take a little more off in the morning. He wondered how far she'd let him go with that. He wouldn't cut it all off, but he'd keep going a little at a time, it made her more self conscious every time he took some, it made her a little less sure of herself. It was a way to break her down; like peeling away a little more ego, one small slice at a time. Yeah, he thought, he'd get to the real Cathy. He'd find out. He thought, yeah, if she was really genuine they could be really happy. He leaned forward as he pulled her head closer. They kissed again and again.

Steve wanted to make her happy; he wanted to make her sexual experiences with him memorable. It wasn't so much because she'd been married twice, and had other men beside him; it was because he liked pleasing women, and he especially liked pleasing Cathy. One thing he thought he'd found out; women liked to be kept on the edge of their seat. Sex night after night soon became a mechanical operation; another,ho hum,here we go again. If he could keep her aroused, expectant, uncertain, ready to play all the time by teasing and periods of denial he'd do it. So far with Cathy it had worked like a charm.

Tonight, though they were both tired, he thought he might give her something to enjoy and remember. Of course the key to prolonged joy was to go slow, not so slow they got weary, but slow enough to keep them expectantly waiting. 

He climbed over beside her, leaned forward and started kissing her breasts. Since her hands were trapped at her sides, he was pretty much able to cover the whole range of her body. That meant he could cover the whole range of her weakest and most sensitive spots.

He took his left hand and reached down to her Mons, that little mound of flesh from which so much pleasure came. Slowly and carefully he slid his index finger up and down the cleft between her labial lips. Slowly, up and down, up and down, a little further in, a little further out. He kept kissing her breasts, licking around her aureole, and all the while his left index finger kept softly rubbing up and down the chasm between her labial lips. She was getting wetter and wetter.

Steve stopped kissing her breasts and lay down beside her. He started kissing her mouth and around her cheeks. He took his left hand and slipped two fingers inside her vagina. He slipped them in about two inches. He started to raise his fingers and pull them out. He felt her start to raise her herself as he pulled his fingers back. He kept kissing her. He whispered, "I love the way you feel. You're so soft. You're skin is so smooth. You've got the body of a young girl. You're so sweet." He kept whispering endearments.

All the while his two fingers kept pushing and pulling, back and forth inside her vagina. She was getting wetter and wetter. He knew he'd found that special place. He'd found her Grafenberg place, her special spot inside her woman's treasure. He kept working at it. She kept wetting his fingers. She kept rising and falling, pressing against his hand. He pushed a little higher, pulled a little harder, a little faster.

Cathy was under more pressure than she'd ever imagined. He'd found that place inside her. He kept using his fingers to smooth back and forth over her puss. She couldn't move her hands to get him to stop. Oh how she wanted him to stop, and no she didn't want him to stop. She was so excited. She kept arching her back up and out. She kept trying to squeeze her legs together to get his hand off her pussy, his fingers out of her snatch. He was driving her crazy. 

She started to murmur, "Oh stop it Steve. This is cruel."

He whispered, "You feel so good. You're so soft, so clean. I love the way you feel."

She kept squirming. She was crying now. Not boohoo crying, but softly weeping, whimpering a little, "Steve oh please. Steve." 

He kept kissing her mouth, fondling her vagina. He pulled his fingers out and wiped the tears from her cheeks. He moved his hand back down to her thighs. He started rubbing his thumb back and forth over her clitoris.

This was too much! She couldn't take anymore. She started jumping, trying to get away from his left hand.

He wouldn't let her get away. He used his hand to push down on her so she had lay there. His thumb kept flipping back and forth over her clitoris, while the heel of his hand pressed against the bottom of her puss. .

She felt like she was going to go insane. It didn't feel good any more. It was hurting. No it didn't hurt, it was just too sensitive.

Steve climbed on top of her. He was fully erect. He slowly pressed his organ against her. He moved up and down letting the head of his penis slide along the cleft between her labia. She felt so good. He slid inside her. Deeper and deeper he went. Cathy was a small person. Her vagina was small, narrow inside. His penis wasn't overlarge, but he imagined like most men, that his was a little larger than the norm. 

He pushed in as far as he could go. He'd reached the deep end of her uterine cavity. He started to slowly pump in and out. He started slow but began to pick up speed. In and out, in and out. Faster, and faster, Cathy was tight but wet. It was an exhilarating feeling to go all the way in and pull all the way out.

Cathy started to rock back and forth, up and down in time with his motions. She was so excited. His penis completely filled her. He went in so deep. His weight pressed down on her. Her vaginal walls were soaked. She felt like she was peeing. Oh God. She started to bounce up and down in spas-mic uneven waves of intense feeling. She hadn't felt this way since, since, well since the last time she had Steve inside her. 

God she wanted to yell out, to scream! She couldn't. Her voice was caught in her throat. She hadn't felt this alive since, since, well Steve.

He hadn't been at it long but he realized he'd been away from it too long. He couldn't hold back another second. He pushed into her as hard and as far as he could. His man meat swooshed into her harder and harder. His juices started to cream out of him. He knew they were pouring into her with terrific force. He was ejaculating at full throttle. They weren't squirts; they were massive waves of semen, three, four, five tumultuous waves of fluid poured out of him.

She felt him get harder than she ever imagined. Then it came! She felt it with her entire body. He was pouring his life's essence into her. God! He was so awesomely powerful. He had so much stuff! It was so hot. It felt like she was being washed away. It rushed into her! She pressed back. She felt like she was ejaculating too. Her pussy was sopping wet. Loaded with his sperm and her fluids. 

Cathy was awash in liquid, in sensation, and she knew it, she was awash in this overwhelming feeling of love, love for a man she'd planned on robbing. Sure her vagina and her clitoris were alive, but the sensations of warmth and excitement swept over her whole body. It was like burst of heat and electricity all over. 

What a fool she was. He'd robbed her. He'd stolen her heart, He'd consumed her. He'd taken possession of her body. He owned her. He possessed her like a man took a dog, or any animal. She was his animal, his object, his property. She loved him for it. If she just had her hands free she could wrap her arms around him. She'd hold him so tight he'd never be able to get away. 

She whispered in his ear, "Oh Steve, Steve! I love you so much!"

They collapsed together. He held her in his arms. She lay there, hands trapped at her sides wishing and praying he would release her so she could hold him, wrap her arms around him. Hug him, kiss him. 

She started to cry, really cry. Like a massive adrenaline rush, she needed some emotional release, an escape from the terrifyingly terrific high she'd been on.

He lay on top of her. His manhood was slowly receding. He started to pull out.

She lunged up with her body, "No stay inside. It feels so good.

He pressed back down. He lay on top of her for another two or three moments until he knew he was completely done. He rolled off. Got out of bed. He looked down at her, "Stay there a while. I'll be back in just a moment.

She tried to move. She sat up, hand still trapped at her sides, "Steve!"

He looked back as he started out the bedroom door, "Stay there."

She lay back down, what else could she do. Her hands were too safely tucked away for her to do anything.

As Steve left the bedroom he grabbed his bathrobe. He decided he needed to give the hospice a call. As they'd finished a wave of fear had swept over him. Call it a premonition. He wanted to call and check on things, check on Ginger. He was suddenly very afraid she might not be there in the morning. 




Too Clever by a Mile Ch. 03



Morning at the Hospice:

Steve called the front desk at the hospice, "Hello this is Steve Murphy I was calling about the kids. Are they all right?"

The nurse on duty answered, "Things seem OK. One of our nurses was in on Bobby and Ginger. Bobby's OK, but Ginger may have taken a turn."

Steve sensed trouble, "How so?"

"When the doctor gets in tomorrow morning it'll probably be time for the morphine."

"You mean?" 

The nurse tried to stay calm. Everybody knew 

Steve was constantly on edge about the kids, "Her parents are in her room."

That was the sign. Ginger was on her way out, "OK, thanks."

He went back upstairs to find Cathy sitting on the toilet. She looked up and smiled, "I had to pee."

He didn't say anything. He walked over and unfastened her hands. The bustier had an interesting feature; it worked much like a vest. He took the bottom button and pulled, all the little buttons that held it together came undone, "I think we should go to the hospice."

She was immediately alert, "What's wrong? Who is it?"

"Ginger."

She gasped in a huge chunk of air, "Bad?"

"Don't know, but I think we should go."

He left her and walked to his part of the closet. He pulled out some old denim jeans, and a pair of tennis shoes. He started for the bureau to pull out a T-shirt.

Cathy got off the toilet, threw some water in her face, brushed her hair and put it in two pig tails, gargled, and stepped into the bedroom. She decided she needed to wear something pretty, but something youthful too. She hated looking like a kid, but now? What did it matter?

Steve had his shirt on, wallet in pocket, keys, in hand, "I'll be downstairs."

She replied, "Be just a minute."

While he went downstairs she found a camisole, a simple white blouse, a pair of white cotton panties, and a pleated brown skirt that came just above the knees. She slipped on some white socks, and tennis shoes. She looked in the mirror, put on the brown wire rimmed glasses Steve had given her earlier, and checked her teeth again. She slipped out of the bedroom and hurried down the steps.

Steve had left a note on the living room coffee table for his guests when they got up. Cathy was just coming down. He looked up, "You ready?"

She ran to the closet, "Let me get our coats."

He replied, "I'll start the car."

A few minutes later they were outside the front door of the hospice. Steve held the door for Cathy. They both went inside. He saw the nurse at the desk, "Any news?"

She responded with what she hoped was a comforting smile, "Everyone's down the hall."

Steve took Cathy's arm and they walked down the short hallway to the waiting area outside Ginger's room. They looked inside the room. Ginger's mom was sitting by the bed. Her dad was standing by the window. He turned around when he heard Steve, he started to cry. "Steve. She's not going to make it."

Steve went over and wrapped his arms around the man. Ginger's dad was a farmer. He was overweight, a big man with a big gut and a big heart. Like most everyone who wasn't rich he was overworked. He looked desperately tired. He stood a cool four inches taller than Steve. They held each other in their arms, the big man's head leaning down on Steve's shoulder.

Cathy stood back hugging herself. She stepped out of the waiting room and walked through Ginger's door. She saw Ginger's mom sitting by the bed. She whispered, "Can I come in?"

Ginger's mom nodded yes.

Cathy slipped in and knelt beside the little girl's bed. Ginger was a little girl, not very pretty, but awfully brave. As Cathy looked over at her she realized they did look very much alike. She asked her mom, "Has she been awake?"

Ginger rolled her head over. She weakly whispered, "Hi Miss Cathy."

Cathy whispered back, "Hi sweetheart. How you doing?"

Ginger offered up a weak smile, "The nurse gave me some medicine. I missed you."

Cathy almost choked, "I missed you too." She reached across and held her frail little hand. She looked so small in the big bed. She was so weak, so innocent. She thought, this is an angel.

Her mom said, "They say the medicine makes it easier."

Cathy asked, "How are you?"

Mom sniffed, "I'm OK."

Steve came in and saw them. He walked over to Cathy, "The nurse is coming back in. The doctor's on his way. They only want the parents here right now."

Cathy, with Steve's help got up. By then Ginger had drifted off again.

Steve took her hand, "Let's go to the chapel."

Cathy nodded. The hospice had a small chapel, a kind of minimalist sanctuary, small altar, six rows of pews, a small section set off with candles if anyone was Catholic. A small stained glass window decorated the front right behind the altar. The window had a Cross set on an angle. Behind it was a pale blue Star of David. It had been Theresa's idea. She said no one should ever be left out during times like these.

Steve and Cathy both knelt in the front pew. Steve closed his eyes and started to pray. Cathy watched him for a second and then she began herself. It was a strange thing; before she had come to steal from Steve she'd never been to church more than two or three times in years. She'd been what they called a classic Creaster, only Christmas and Easter. Prayer she'd always thought, along with God, was for old people. She'd thought she knew everything; she knew about Bethlehem and Santa, and she'd been to church enough to know there was a crucifixion and a bunny rabbit. 

Funny wasn't it she thought as she prayed. She'd come to steal money from one man, and, looking at the Cross, another man had given his life for her soul. She realized she'd been a fool. She glanced over at Steve again. He was a good man. He was a lot like Jesus. He helped other people. She knew enough to know who she was. If he was like Jesus, she was the whore Jesus saved. 

God, she thought, this was selfish. A little girl is dying in the other room, and she was in the chapel thinking about herself. She knew Ginger was going to die soon. No one could stop that so she prayed for something else. She started to whisper. She whispered so low she hoped Steve wouldn't hear her, "God," she started, "Give the little girl wings. Let her fly home. Make her little body strong again. Put a smile back on her face." She sniffed, "Jesus please set her free. Fill her next life with white fluffy clouds, green grass, and furry puppies." She was done. She didn't know any real religious words. 

Steve heard every whispered word. He was sure he wasn't supposed to. He reached over and took her hand. He squeezed it. He got up, "I think we should leave now."

She looked up, "Shouldn't we...?"

He squeezed her hand again, "No, we're done here. We, you and I, we need to go get some more money."

She knew what he meant. His friends would be getting up soon. Steve wanted to tell them about Ginger. They'd want to contribute more. Cathy was crying again. She wiped her face with her hands.

They drove back to his house in silence. Later that afternoon they got the call. Ginger had been called home.

A Somber Several Days:

The next few days were long and tiring. There was a short memorial service for Ginger. Her parents took her to a funeral home near their home. There was a large gathering at the visitation and at the funeral. Ginger had a lot of friends. Steve and Cathy went to the viewing, but stayed away from the funeral. 

Steve was pretty morose, but he slowly worked through it. He explained how Ginger hadn't been the first child they'd said good bye too, and if they attended every funeral they'd go nuts. 

It sounded a little sanguine, but she knew he was right. They'd done all they could. Ginger left them on Sunday; by Thursday another child occupied her bed.

She and Steve slept apart for the next several days. Steve went back to work with renewed energy trying to get the money he wanted for the addition. 

There was very little for Cathy to do. She stayed away from the hospice. She spent most of her time shopping. She had other things on her mind.

She did one thing no one knew about. She stopped in at the local Methodist church; the one Steve said he'd gone to occasionally years before. She started talking to their pastor. She found herself frequenting the place more and more. She realized there was a lot she just didn't know. 

The pastor was an older man. He was a good listener. She really stuck her neck out, but she told him about her two marriages and the original reason she'd showed up at Steve's door. He promised he wouldn't rat her out if she promised not to carry out her original plan. They even shook hands on it. She told him her original plan had become the farthest thing from her mind. She talked about Ginger a lot. He really listened. He seemed to understand what she told him. He said he wanted her to come to church. She said she wasn't ready for that just yet, but she'd think it over. He didn't push her on it, but he did ask her to try to get back to the hospice for the kids. She said she would. 

There were a couple other little changes she made in her life. She quietly stopped wearing her contact lenses, and she kept up with her exercises. She did one other thing she kept to herself too; she stopped taking her birth control pills. 

Steve, Cathy, and God:

Cathy had to admit it; Steve wasn't the only man wearing her down. The Methodist minister just wouldn't leave her alone. He wasn't hitting on her or anything like that far from it; it was just every time she went to see him he left her with more questions than when she arrived. He wasn't nagging her or anything, but the more she saw him the more she realized she needed to be in church. One evening after Steve got back from the hospice she asked, "Steve have you ever thought about going to church?"

He looked up at her like she was crazy, "No, why?"

"I don't know, I just thought that well maybe there might be something to it."

He put down the novel he was reading, "I've been to church. I know what's there."

Having not actually gone to the church he'd once attended. She was curious, "What was there?"

He gave up on the novel, "You want to know what a hypocrite looks like? Go to church."

Now she had him there because she'd said the same thing to the pastor, "Tell me what a hypocrite looks like?"

"Go to church and find out."

She didn't like his answer, "No, come on. What do you mean?"

Look all churches are the same. Every Sunday a bunch of people get dressed up. They drive to church, doze off for an hour, and walk out like they're better then everybody else."

"Well don't we all think we're better than everybody else anyway? I mean we pretend, but we really deep down think we're just a little better."

He closed the book, "Yeah but they do it in public."

"Did you ever think maybe they know they're hypocrites, but they're there trying to get well?"

"No."

You honestly don't like church do you."

"Not even a little bit."

"What about God then?"

"What do you mean, what about God?"

Cathy thought she could corner him on the God thing, "I don't know. I think I believe in God, I mean I know there's a God, but I mean a God who loves me and cares about me."

Steve sat back. He got in his high and mighty pontification stance, "Sure there's a God, but he doesn't care one way or the other about us."

Cathy asked, "You mean like the unmoved first mover, the clock maker who watches his clock tick away."

"Yeah, that's about it."

"Then why did we go to the chapel to pray for Ginger?"

He sat back and smiled, "Well I could be wrong."

Cathy pushed the envelope a tiny bit, "OK, what if you are wrong. What if there is a God who cares. What if he's Jesus?"

He sat back and rolled his eyes, "Oh now its Jesus. When did you get religion? You want to send some money to one of those guys on television?"

"No I don't mean anything like that. I mean we have a hospice. We see kids die. It hurts. There has to be something more."

Steve changed position in his chair, "That's the point. If there was a God who cared, would he let a sweet kid like Ginger die?"

Cathy had asked exactly that question that very same day, "Look Steve you've heard of the acronym I.C.U.?

"Yeah."

"Tell me what do you think it means."

"It means Intensive Care Unit."

What if I told you it meant something else?"

He squirmed around again, "OK, what else does it mean."

She was a little nervous. She wanted to get this right, "It means Intended, Circumstantial, and Unintended."

He shifted his seat again, "That's the stupidest thing I ever heard."

She stopped him, "No listen. Here's what it means. First there's the intended, that's what God intends for us. Maybe God had intended that you run a hospice where you could help little girls like Ginger," Cathy sniffed, that one hurt, "see that's God's intended plan for you. Then there's the circumstantial. What if you became a drug addict and wasted all your money on cocaine and heroin. That would be the way you handle your affairs. We have free will. God can't control the choices we make. So you Over dose on drugs and die, the hospice closes up, and hundreds of kids get no help. You created the circumstances that led to the failure of the good thing God wanted you to do."

Steve interrupted her, "This is stupid."

She countered, "No its not. Look there still the unintended. You run the hospice, you do the good thing. But one day a drunk driver runs a red light and smashed into your car, and you die. God didn't plan that, but it happened. "

Steve waved her off, "You're crazy."

She wouldn't quit, "No I'm not. God intended that you do some good deed, maybe the hospice. You were married, and lazy, and did nothing. Then by accident Leah died. You started doing something good. Your good work made Ginger's last days a whole lot better. God didn't intend that Leah would die, but the bad unintended thing that happened to her made you different. You being different made another bad thing; Ginger's dying a little less awful."

Steve got up. For the first time he was really mad at Cathy, "OH just fuck off!" He got up, left the room, got his coat, his car keys and drove away. 

Cathy didn't chase after him. She figured she'd gotten to him. The pastor said people often act that way when they get confused. He also said when people are confused they're learning.

She heard him pull back in the driveway around 1:00 a.m. She thought maybe she should go downstairs. Then she changed her mind. The pastor had told her the biggest battle we fight over God is the one we fight with ourselves. She curled up and smiled. I think I'll stop back by at the church. The pastor might like to hear what I've been doing. Maybe Steve's part of my big I?" 

The next day Steve pretended like the conversation he'd had with Cathy never happened. It had though, and it bothered him.

++++++++++++

This is the end of part three. Part four will be up in a few days. If you're still reading why not vote and leave a comment.



Too Clever by a Mile Ch. 04



Chapter Four

More Turns in the Road

After he got past Ginger, as if he could, Steve went back to work. Not just for Ginger's or Leah's but for his own sake he wanted to make the hospice thing a real success. Occasionally he reflected on his days before he lost Leah. He'd been so happy, but he'd been living in a fool's paradise. Sure he'd had fun, but he'd never done anything meaningful, nothing productive or worthwhile, and he hadn't been the greatest husband either. 

He wondered what Cathy would have thought of him if she'd met him back then. For sure, he'd done a lot he wasn't real proud of. 

The hospice gave him a purpose in life. While he worked, mostly begging for money, he thought about Cathy. He knew he loved her, but he just had these nagging doubts. Lately she'd disappear during the day for hours at a time. He had no idea where she went. He wasn't going to have her followed, and he didn't feel it was his place to start asking questions. Ginger's loss had touched her too. Still, every time he turned around she was bringing in more stuff, dresses, blouses, skirts, and shoes, and boxes of stuff she wouldn't open and share. He'd never seen a woman with so many shoes, well shoe boxes. 

++++++++++++

Steve thought about including Cathy in the planning and work regarding the hospice, but Theresa's suspicions, backed up by Glynnis, put that off. He was sure Cathy could be a big help. She was good with computers, she knew her way around a lot of the business aspects of what he was doing, and Ginger was proof she was good with kids. 

Ginger, that had been one homely little girl, he missed her. Cathy was a problem there; she looked so much like Ginger. Cathy wouldn't let Ginger's memory die. Cathy Ginger, Ginger Cathy. Ginger had been so good. Cathy looked like her. She couldn't be anything but good. 

What about Cathy? He wasn't sure. What if he let her near the money, what if she started to get cute, that would be the end of any support he'd get from people like Theresa, and that would mean the end of the addition. Cathy had to stay out of the loop when it came to the hospice.

As the days dragged by Steve grew more suspicious about Cathy's comings and goings. Still too proud to ask, and too insecure to hire someone he decided he'd find out his own way. He'd bring things to a head. Yes, and he'd do it in his own way. 

Finally he came up with a plan. It was probably a stupid plan, but under the circumstances, the circumstances of him being too stupid to think of anything else, the plan still looked pretty stupid. He decided to go with it anyway. Cathy, he figured liked bondage. OK, he'd do a bondage number on her. He'd do a bondage deal on her that would knock her socks off. He'd do such a number she'd cave in, she'd crack. He'd so terrorize her she'd confess. Confess to everything. Confess to what he wondered? Did he say it was stupid?

OK it was stupid, but he couldn't think of anything else. Sure he could be sincere. He could be totally completely and blissfully honest. He could just come out and ask her. He could ask, 'Cathy I've been told the only reason you're here is to get me to marry you so you could steal my money?' He could ask that. But what would she say? What if she admitted it? What if she said that it had been true; it had been true but she'd changed her mind? Could he believe that? He knew he would if she said it, but Theresa would tell him he was stupid. He trusted Theresa, and Theresa was usually right

Then again he could tell Cathy he loved her. He was convinced she loved him. She'd already put up with more crap from him that he had a right to expect. His deceased wife Leah would never have agreed to anything as dumb as playing house maid. Leah would have told him to forget it. Leah would have told him to shove it up his ass. Heck, Leah would never have let him get involved in anything like the hospice; that just wasn't Leah's kind of thing. Leah liked parties and dining out, and going to the theater.

Steve bet if he confronted Cathy she'd tell him the truth. But what of she really didn't love him? What if she lied and said she loved him when she didn't? No, he knew, she loved him. Of course she did. But then again, what if? 

++++++++++++

Cathy had been back and forth with the Methodist pastor. Since she wasn't Methodist, like that really mattered, and he couldn't get her to commit, he'd sent her to another man of the cloth for a second opinion so to speak. The other man, a Catholic, had persuaded her to go to confession. She had. Her confession sort of made her realize she had to tell Steve she hadn't been completely honest. That scared her. Steve was a good person, but she sensed an underlayment of steel to his normally affable persona. She was afraid. What of she told him the truth, told him everything. Would he let it go? Would he forgive her? Actually there wasn't anything to forgive. She really hadn't done anything wrong. All she'd done was find a way to meet. 

Cathy figured it out. She didn't have to tell Steve anything. All she had to do was follow her heart. She loved Steve. She knew he loved her. She loved his ministry. He didn't know what he was doing was a ministry yet, but she'd show him. She had a plan. She'd prove herself, and in the proving she'd pull Steve to a better understanding of what he was doing. One thing she'd figured out from the pastor and priest was there was a spiritual piece to the hospice that was still missing. She had to find a way to get that in the picture. Imagine, her, Cathy Shoreham, a disciple. Go figure.

++++++++++++

The weather was pretty warm; spring seemed to be coming fairly early. He and Leah had built a gazebo in their backyard. It was a nice size, homey and warm; it was well furnished, it had a refrigerator, an Internet hook up, a television with satellite reception, and it was well heated. The place was clean, had good thermal windows, blinds and shutters for privacy, and a pretty good view. Nobody had bothered with it since Leah had passed. Now he thought he had a purpose for it. 

Steve got some people out to look the gazebo over; tidy it up, shampoo the carpeting, restock the refrigerator, and just generally get the place up to speed. He thought he had it figured out. Cathy was a loner; nobody beyond the few people he knew even knew she was alive. He'd put Cathy on ice, scare her, and then he'd wring the truth out of her. He thought about it some more; it sounded even more stupid than he'd originally thought. He decided to do it anyway. If it started to work the way he wanted, he'd move the operation into the house. He gave his Spanish ladies a month off with pay, and put the plan in high gear.

++++++++++++

One early evening Steve invited Cathy out to the gazebo. She'd noticed there had been workmen out there. She supposed Steve had done something with it, and wanted to show it off to her. She had no idea what she was about to be lured into.

Steve led Cathy up the four steps of the gazebo, and held open the door, "Come on in I want to show you the place."

Cathy walked in with Steve right behind. It had been nearly three weeks since they'd made love so she was happily surprised when he took her in his arms and kissed her. He said, "This place is special to me, and I want to share it with you."

His comment made her feel all warm inside. Her imagination started to ramp up. She eagerly returned his kiss and presented him with a warm smile, "I'm glad you invited me." 

He looked her over. She was wearing a pretty white blouse, most certainly a camisole underneath, probably just panties, and a very pretty skirt that came down just above the knees. More important, since Ginger, she'd been a lot less concerned about the superficialities of her appearance. She'd started keeping her hair extra nice, shorter even than he expected. Her clothes were all always young and demure looking, and the make-up was minimal. 

Steve guessed she'd been reading his mind; a less shallow babe, more genuine girl even if she wasn't the hottest honey in six states. But he wasn't sure if that was a good thing. Theresa would have said it was part of her scheme. He didn't think so though.

He kept kissing her, but as he kissed her he started to take off her clothes. He got her blouse and camisole off. He undid the zipper on her skirt, and down it went. Last came the shoes and socks. All that was left was a pair of pretty white cotton panties. He let her keep those on. 

The gazebo had a smallish sofa at one end. There was a rather large stand alone mirror by the door. Both would be a part of his initial plan. He kissed her neck again, "Come back over to the sofa. I have a special gift."

Together they moved to the couch. She wondered what he had. Maybe he wanted to give her a ring? That would be great. If he did, she'd take it, and she'd take it for real.

They got back to the sofa. He reached under and pulled out a small box. It was too big for a ring. He opened it. He pulled out a collar.

She looked at it diffidently, "What's that?"

He smiled and held it up, "It's something I got for you to wear."

"That's a collar!"

"Yes, I know. Here, try it on." He handed her the collar.

At first she simply sat there. She couldn't believe it. He was giving her a collar, "You want me to wear this?"

"Yes, here," he pressed it toward her again.

This time she took it. She held it in her hand like it was something that would bite her, "You want me to wear this?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Yes, try it on." 

She held it in both hands. She turned it this way and that. It was heavy, and made of metal, "It's heavy."

"It's stainless steel. See how it glistens? It's quite solid, and extremely well made. Put in on."

She kept staring at it. She never thought... This was a far cry from the pretty ribbons from the other night or the sexy bustier with the waist cuffs. She thought about that. A few nights before while they were in bed he'd pulled out a box of red ribbons; he'd tied her hands together behind her back. It had been a little kinky, but it had been fun. Then there had been the night with the bustier, that was the hottest night of her life. But this was a lot different from a few ribbons or a tight fitting corset. She looked at him, "Why are you doing this?"

He put his arm around her shoulders, "Look inside, see what's inscribed there."

She took the collar and read what was inside.

He asked, "Well, what does it say?"

She was incredulous, "It says property of Steve Murphy."

He grinned, "Isn't that neat? Put it on."

She put it down on the sofa, "What does that mean, property of Steve Murphy?"

He let the object sit there between them, "What do you think it means?"

She looked at him suspiciously, "I think it means whoever wears this collar belongs to you."

He smiled, "Or it could mean simply that collar belongs to me."

She paled, she felt a little afraid, "Well, which is it?"

He kept smiling, "It means whatever you want."

She wasn't smiling, "No I want to know what you think it means."

He stopped smiling, "I think it means...I want it to mean that the collar belongs to me, and anything inside it is mine too."

She was visibly disturbed by his comment. She wasn't sure exactly what it was, but she was afraid, or was she just excited. This was something new, totally different from any experience she'd had before, it was different from experiences they'd had before. She'd seen pictures on the Internet, bondage pictures, spreader bars, harnesses, gags. She wasn't into that. Everything they'd done before had been fun. This seemed different. She didn't know whether to be scared, angry, or maybe, what, she didn't know, "I don't know."

He took the collar off the sofa, "I thought this might scare you, but look." He opened it up. There aren't any locks. It's held together by this tiny clasp, a tiny bolt with an eye ring, and another equally small bolt that fits into this small hinge here." He fiddled around showing her all the little parts. It looked innocuous enough. 

She took the collar back and held it. She looked at it more closely. It was true there were no locks; only a little hooked clasp that would hold it in place, then a small, very small, threaded cylinder about the circumference of one of her fingers, with a small hub and a ring at the end and threads inside presumably to screw over the clasp, and she also saw another small bolt that apparently screwed down into the place where a hinge would normally be. It was a simple device. She could put it on, and if she wanted she could take it off. Nothing about it locked in place. She held it in her hands like it was something scary, something dangerous, like it was a snake or a hand grenade or something, "I can put it on and take it off whenever I want?"

"Whenever you want." 

"I'm not promising anything."

"No promises."

She took the collar and put it up to her neck. She let it wrap around her neck without closing it. 

He looked at her like they were experimenting with something together for the first time and in fact they were. He said, "When you close the clasp it will make a tiny click. That's how you'll know it's on."

She still had it around her neck unclosed, "I can take it off whenever I want?"

"Anytime."

She took it away from her neck and closed it together in front of her. She saw the little clasp snap shut. She took her fingers and undid the clasp. She looked at Steve, "That's how it works?"

He smiled, "That's how it works." 

She stared it again. She looked back at Steve, "This is not a trick."

"No tricks."

Cathy put the collar back around her neck. She squeezed the ends of the collar together. There was a faintly discernible click when the small clasp went into place. She took her finger and felt all around it, "It feels heavy."

He answered, "It's made of steel. Let's look at in the mirror." He stood up and proffered his right hand.

She took his hand in hers and together they walked to the full length mirror.

He still had his arms around her shoulders, but he was careful not to obstruct her view of the collar, "It looks beautiful on you."

"I can take it off when I want."

"Absolutely, but don't you want to tighten the clasp with the eye ring, and maybe screw in the hinge bolt?"

She didn't really want to, "You do it."

"OK," he said, let's go back to the sofa."

They walked back to the sofa. She sat stiffly while he used his fingers to tighten the eye-bolt over the clasp. This concealed and fixed the tiny clasp in place, and it also left a small O ring on the end. He knew he could use this if he wanted to fix a small chain, or maybe a leash to it. He didn't tell her that though. He took the other small bolt and screwed it down into the hinge. He told her again, "This last bolt serves as a hinge that holds the collar in place.

She just stared at him. She wasn't happy.

"One more little thing," he said. "I have this small screwdriver I need to use to tighten the hinge bolt. I only need to do it so the darn thing won't just come loose and fall out on its own." He held up the screw driver. "Here see it's a star shaped screwdriver that fits into the hinge bolt. Just a single turn..." He tightened the hinge bolt, "There now it won't fall out." He handed her the screwdriver, "That's yours."

She took it, not knowing what else to do she placed it on the sofa.

He leaned back and smiled again, "You look lovely."

Cathy wasn't so sure. She sure didn't want to go back over to the mirror and look at it again. She was just about ready to tell him she wanted to take it off when he said something else.

"I have something else."

She looked startled, "What?"

He reached back into the box and pulled out a small object. It was a metal disc, like a coin. He handed it to her, "Here look at it."

She took the small fixture. It was like an amulet. She saw there was something written on it. She was afraid to find out what it said so she asked, "What's this?"

He said, "Read what it says."

She read it.

He asked, "What does it say?"

She fidgeted with the little coin like object, "It says Property of Steve Murphy."

He kept smiling, "Let's put it on."

She was absolutely unhappy with the turn of events, but was afraid to stop, "I don't know how."

He said, "I'll do it." He took the silver object. It had a small snap on clip at one end that would allow it to hang loosely once it was in place. He leaned forward and attached it to the O ring on the collar.

She sat back and felt the circular object, "Now what's this mean that I belong to you?"

He put one hand on her left shoulder and pulled her close, "If you want. Would you like to be mine?"

"How do you mean?"

He answered, "How would you want it to mean?"

She kept her eyes looking down and away. She was afraid to tell him what she really felt, that she wanted to be his wife, his life's mate. She wanted to tell him she wanted to start to go to church. She wanted to tell him she wanted to be a help around the hospice. She wanted to tell him how she'd been scouting around on the Internet about nursing school, and how she could be a nurse at their hospice. She wanted to tell him she wanted to have his children. She wanted to tell him she would do anything, anything, to make him want her. But she was too scared to say anything like that. She figured he'd back off. Still she had to say something so she copped out, "I want to be what you want me to be."

Steve pulled her over and kissed her again. He caressed her breasts again; he reached down and felt the warmth and the wetness between her legs. He knew she was scared. He wondered if she was ready for the next step. He thought he'd try, "I have something else."

She froze, "What?"

He reached under the sofa and pulled out another box, "This was really just an afterthought. I thought we'd both like them." He opened the box and held up a pair of shackles, "They're for your feet. Look."

She saw them. They were a pair of stainless steel shackles made of the same high gloss steel as the collar she now had around her neck. She saw there was an expensive looking connecting chain with maybe seventeen or eighteen inches of links holding the two shackles together.

She took one look at the ankle shackles and said, "No, I won't wear them."

He chuckled, "I don't blame you. I only bought them as a kind of afterthought. You know a kind of what the heck. Here I'll put them away." He put them back in the box, and put the box on the floor, but he didn't slide the box all the way back under the sofa.

She pressed up against him. She thought that was close. She leaned up for another kiss.

Steve leaned back down and reached under the sofa, "I got something else that's better." He pulled out yet another box.

For Cathy this was getting to be too much. She felt around her neck, the heavy metal collar scared her. She touched the metal ornament and felt it move. It emitted a soft jingling sound she hadn't noticed before, "What have you got now?"

"I got you two bracelets to go with the collar." He opened the box and took out two bracelets. Unlike the leg shackles they weren't connected by anything or to anything. They were just two harmless looking metal bracelets.

She looked at the two bracelets in near disbelief. This was really happening. He'd gotten her to put on a metal collar, and now he held out these two metal bracelets. Then again, there weren't any locks, only little screws and a clasp. She could take the collar off any time she wanted. In another sense she looked at the bracelets with relief. They weren't anything like the ankle chains he'd just shown her. These were just two metal bracelets.

She looked at Steve, "You want me to wear these things?"

"They're bracelets Cathy. Yes, I would."




Too Clever by a Mile Ch. 04



She held out her left hand, "OK, hand them over."

He handed her the two bracelets.

She looked at one then the other. They were constructed just like the collar, "If I put these on I can take them off whenever I like."

"Of course."

Cathy clipped the first one on. She heard the faint metallic click of the clasp. She slipped the other one on and heard the same faint melodic sound. She took the two small O ring bolts and tightened each one around and over the clasp, then she dropped the hinge bolts in and tightened them with her star shaped screwdriver. She looked over at Steve, "There, satisfied?"

He gave her one his best inscrutable looks, "No, I want you to put on the ankle pieces too."

She gave up. She knew she could take them off whenever she wanted. She leaned back on the sofa, "You do it."

Steve reached back down and found the ankle pieces. He affixed one to her right ankle, and the other to her left ankle. He closed the clasps, tightened on the metal O rings, and screwed in the hinge bolts. They clanked and clattered as he put them on. Once more he looked at her, "There, all done."

She looked back, "You sure?"

He graced her with his best smile, "Almost." He leaned down and got her blouse. He helped her slip it back on, and buttoned a couple of the top buttons. He slipped the camisole and the skirt in one of the empty boxes, "I want to go to bed, How about you?" 

She willingly stood up, "Finally."

He held her close against his body for what seemed like the umpteenth time, "I have a special new arrangement right here in the gazebo just for us."

She leaned up to kiss him. He leaned down and their lips met.

They sat there together, He asked, "Want to look in the mirror again?"

She answered, "No."

"OK, we'll do something else. I want to show one more new thing. Stand up."

Cathy stood up. She was almost totally unnerved.

Steve turned around and opened the top drawer of a small chest that was by the door. He pulled out a length of chain. It looked just like the chain that connected her ankles together, only this one was a lot shorter. He said, "Come here."

Cathy stood still.

He said it again, "Come over here."

She knew what the short length of chain was for, "Steve."

He pointed to the spot right in front of where he was standing, "Come here and kneel down."

She stepped back slightly and fell back on the sofa, "Steve don't"

He pointed again, "Here."

This was preposterous. What kind of sick game was he playing? She slowly got back up, walked over to where he was standing, and knelt down.

He said, "Hold up your hands."

She held up her hands.

This time there were no little clasps. Attached to each end of the chain he had now there were two small open ended ovals. At the open ends there were small holes. He took her left hand and fitted the open ovoid through the O ring of the bracelet. He picked up a small bolt and nut. He pushed the bolt through the holes and tightened them together. He took the star shaped screwdriver and further tightened down the bolt till the open end of the ovoid was completely closed. It was obvious the reactive pressure of the closed oval would make it impossible to reopen without the screwdriver. 

Cathy saw what was happening. She looked up. Big tears were dribbling down her cheeks. She wondered, what happened to the wonderful man she'd been in the chapel with? She murmured, "Steve, please."

He ignored her, "Almost finished. He took her right hand and performed the same operation with the bracelet and chain. He used the chain to pull her to her feet. He gave her a kind of idiosyncratic smile, "One more thing."

He reached in the drawer and pulled out one more length of chain. This one was easily twelve feet long.

She reached for the collar and felt for the fearful O ring. She knew what was coming next,"Please Steve. Why are you doing this?"

Steve took the long chain. He locked it to an O ring that had been discreetly hidden under a futon on the floor. He took the other end, and using the same procedure he'd used with her wrist chains, he affixed the other end of the long chain to her neck. He gave her another one of those strange smiles, "There you are dear, all fixed up."

Cathy tried to laugh. She evoked a kind of phony supercilious giggle. Even though she knew there was something particularly dark and sinister going on she pretended this was still something light and frivolous. She pretended to dance around. Every move brought the ominous clatter of metal. She sang, "Oh here I am, just a bird in a gilded cage."

Steve didn't smile

She stopped, she burst into tears again, "Steve stop this. Undo me."

He stood there, facing her like she was some kind of war criminal.

She cried, "Steve what wrong? What have I done? Why are you doing this? Say something."

Finally he said something, "It's getting late. I have some more work to do, you know, about the hospice." He turned toward the door.

She stepped forward, "Where are you going?"

He glanced back, "First to my office, then probably in an hour or so to bed."

Eyes wide in utter and total disbelief she asked, "What about me?"

He gave her another of those inscrutable stares, "You'll be fine. I'll be back sometime tomorrow or maybe in a few days."

"A few days?" she wailed, "I can't stay here a few days. Steve!"

Steve knew he had to leave right away. If he waited another second he'd cave in. He kept telling himself he had to do this. This would break her down. It was like water boarding. He'd break her, and then she'd tell him what he needed, what he had to know. He looked back one last time, "There's food and water in the refrigerator. I've got the heat set high enough that you won't catch a cold. Get a good night's sleep." He turned and walked through the gazebo door and closed it.

Cathy called after him, "Steve don't leave me out here like this. Steve tell me what I've done. Whatever it is I'm sorry. Steve! Steve you want me to do the maid thing again? Steve I'll do whatever you want, I will." He was out of sight. 

She sat down on the sofa. She held up her hands and looked at the manacles. She pulled her hands as far apart as she could. Looking down at her captured feet she did the same thing. She held her head in her hands and cried. 

In fact she cried almost all night. She didn't go to sleep. She didn't try to go to sleep. She fumbled around with the chains a little more, but she knew beforehand, when he took the screwdriver she was stuck. The manacles he'd so carefully helped her put on might as well have been welded in place. This was so degrading. All she did was sit on the sofa and cry. She cried until she ran out of water for tears. The only thing that diverted her attention was around 4:00 a.m. she knew she had to pee. Steve had apparently thought of everything, well almost everything. 

Steve went inside. For a few minutes he pretended everything was OK. He sauntered around the house whistling and acting like he had everything under control. That lasted almost twenty minutes. 

Finally he went upstairs and looked out the bathroom window. The bathroom was the best place to get a view of the gazebo. Damn, he'd left the venetian blinds open. He saw her. She was just sitting out there, sitting on the sofa. He could tell she was crying. He turned the bathroom light out so she wouldn't know he was watching. 

He watched her from the bathroom window almost all night. He'd turned the bright overhead light in the gazebo off when he walked out, but the softer table lamp by the sofa was still on. She didn't move. She didn't try to move. She just sat out there. He could see the chains glisten every time she shifted position. He just sat inside. 

The occasional glimmer of the chains was a constant reminder of what he was doing to her; it made him feel small and mean. He knew his father would have been ashamed of him. He heard the old man's voice, 'Son, men don't take advantage of women. They're not like we are'. 

His father had treated his mother like she was a saint. She was a saint too. No man had a better wife. No woman had a more doting husband. Steve felt like a bastard. If his mother were alive she'd be mortified. What he was doing to Cathy sucked; it really sucked. 

Even though there was no way she could hear him he started talking to her. He started yelling at her, "Why don't you turn out the light? Turn out the damn light! Put out the light and go to sleep. I know you're guilty so turn out the light. Go on go to sleep!" He got madder at her for not trying to get to sleep than he was for suspecting she was a possible thief. 

Cathy sat up all night. She was in utter disbelief. Why had he done this? Why was he doing this to her? Didn't he know she loved him? She shouted at the lifeless gazebo door, "Steve I love you. Let me out."

Steve, of course, heard nothing. What he was doing made absolutely no sense. He really did love her. Her senseless cruelties to those other two men notwithstanding, he really loved her. He was just afraid he couldn't trust her, not yet anyway. She needed to be taught a lesson. This was the first part of that lesson. He started asking himself, 'What was the lesson?'

Steve stared out the bathroom window and argued with himself till 6:00 a.m. He half hoped when he went back down she might come clean about her reasons for getting involved with him. If she did then that would prove a lot, and all of it in her favor. Still, he was afraid she might not have the courage or the moral fiber to open up. But what did he know? She sure cared about Ginger. She sure took a lot of shit off Theresa. He'd sure dished it out at the party. For someone who told herself she didn't know how to pray, that was one hell of a prayer she made for Ginger. To tell the truth, though he'd been warned she was a gold digging thief, she hadn't said or done one thing to indicate any of that was true. 

What was wrong with her? Shit! What was wrong with him?

He'd watched television once about how detectives could tell when someone was guilty or innocent of something. The guilty were all always calm and controlled. The innocent were always in a panic. Cathy was downstairs in a panic. She was behaving like she was innocent. If she was innocent, then why had he done the mean thing he'd done. They'd played with ribbons and a corset, that had all been fun. Even Cathy had liked it. What he was doing to her in the gazebo now was just sadistic. It was mean. He wasn't like that. What was wrong with him?

He checked the clock. Almost 6:00 a.m. He'd waited long enough he went back downstairs and out to the gazebo. He opened the gazebo door, "Good morning, Cathy, you awake?"

Cathy looked up with tired bloodshot eyes, "Steve, why are you doing this to me?"

He couldn't go on. He just couldn't do it anymore. He had to either get it out of her or just tell her right then and there. He asked, "Cathy is there anything you want to tell me?"

Still totally unaware that he had the slightest clue about her past she answered, "I know I love you."

"I know that, or at least that's what you've been telling me. I mean is here anything else? Is there anything you might be hiding?"

She sat more upright on the sofa. The chains rattled as she moved, "Nothing that would interest you."

"You sure?"

She slid around. The chains clattered. She pleaded, "Come on Steve let me loose. Unchain me. I'm tired, I'm hungry, and I have to pee."

She wasn't going to say anything. He decided to give her one more chance, "I think you're hiding something."

She kept squirming, the metal kept rustling, "I have to pee. Let me up, please?"

"You are hiding something aren't you?"

"OK, I'm hiding something. If you say I'm hiding something just tell me what it is, then let me up so I can pee."

He watched her squirm about. In spite of himself he thought she looked awfully good, and he hadn't gotten any relief yet, "Don't you have a confession to make?"

She squeezed her legs together, "OK, I confess. I have a weak bladder. Now let me go to the bathroom!"

"That's not it."

"Steve let me out. I can't hold it any longer."

"Not till..." It was too late she really couldn't hold it any longer. He watched as she finally let go. It was a nice smooth long pee. She watered the whole sofa, herself, her blouse, and of course her panties.

He relented, "OK, I'll let you loose."

She had started to cry, "It doesn't matter now. Look at me. I'm a mess."

He felt real pity, genuine empathy...and guilt, "Yes you really are one hell of a mess, and I don't mean the pee either."

She was crying again. She'd thought she'd run out of tears, but more were coming out, big tears, huge globules of saltwater poured out of dark brown eyes. She used her shackled hands to wipe the water away from her face.The cold metal bracelets made her grimace as they rubbed across her cheeks.

He felt terrible. God was he an ass hole. This couldn't be the nasty bitch all the people he'd talked to said she was. It just didn't make sense, not to him anyway, not right then, not any more. He went over and sat down beside her. He unscrewed the ovoid that held the long chain to her collar. He grabbed her and let her fall softly to the floor. On the way down he kissed her. He was a real ass hole.

She kept crying and talking, "You're so mean. What did I do to deserve this?"

He was already pulling the soggy pillow case off the sofa. He wished he understood what he was doing. He started to act aggressively. What else was there to do? "You must have done something. Try to remember."

Cathy crawled over to a corner of the gazebo, actually the only corner that wasn't crowded with junk. She knelt there; hands locked, feet askew and ratcheted together with shackles, a metal collar around her neck, face soaked with tears, mousy brown hair all unkempt, half blind because her glasses were still back on the sofa, the bottom of her blouse sodden with yellow pee, the once pretty collar all gnarled and wrinkled,her wet cotton panties provocatively outlining her woman's crease, and her poor vagina starting to itch from un-wiped urine.

Steve kept working on the sofa. Actually he was stalling, "You might as well come clean. Try to think back on your past life. Is there anything back there you might be ashamed of?"

She stopped crying. She sniffled. Her antenna finally went up. He knew something. Hell, she bet he knew everything. He wasn't stupid, but she'd figured that out after the first few days. He wasn't just another ego-centric male shit bird either. He was the genuine article, the kind of guy women dream about; that one in a million man who actually had his act together, cared more about other people than himself, and actually poured his heart and soul into something bigger than himself. 

It was coming clear. His first wife had died, died of what, leukemia. What had he been doing since then; he'd been helping sick children, children sick with cancer. 

She watched as he finished trying to clean the sofa. She had to come clean. He needed to hear the truth, but would he accept the truth, her version. She looked down at her chained feet. If he knew, and he most certainly did, then why didn't he just get rid of her? He was no sadist. This game with the collar and chains was just that, a game. He wasn't into bondage; he was into helping and caring for other people. The loss of his first wife had taught him a terrible lesson; just like what had happened to her mother had taught her something. Would he buy that? 

She waited for him to finish with the sofa. At last he turned around. He looked at her, "Well?"

She stayed in her corner. She looked up at him. He was a blur, "May I have my glasses? Please?"

He looked back over across the sofa. Yes they were there. He leaned over, picked them up and started toward her, "You have something to tell me, a confession maybe?"

It was as good as over and she knew it. All she ever wanted was walking toward her, and in her blind hatred for all men she probably would lose him. She gave up, no more games, no more tricks. 

In a soft low and deliberate voice she started. She sniffed and then hiccoughed, "OK, I guess you know all about me, or at least you know what other people have told you. Well it's all true." 

She saw his face start to harden, she dropped her head. She tried to wipe her face again, but the manacles and the chain kept getting in the way.

She had to find another way to tell her story, "I knew about your wife before I came. I knew she died of something. I also knew when she was alive you weren't the same man you are today." She watched. He wasn't softening.

Steve was listening. He was thinking about his own problems as much as he was thinking about what she was saying. He also watched and saw how helpless she looked. She looked so vulnerable an so innocent squished over in the corner. It occurred to him how much he'd always hated the gazebo. She was so mussed up. She needed to be fixed up. He had this terrific urge to pick her up and hold her, squeeze her close and smother her in kisses. 

He was getting excited, all hot and bothered. He thought about how cool she'd look in a black low cut dress with dark nylons,black high heeled shoes, hair done up in a bun with her dark glasses giving her that super intellectual aura she so easily exhibited. She'd have her hand on his arm, and he'd be walking through a crowd of richly dressed people like he was the King of England and she was his queen.Prince William, or whoever you are,eat your heart out!

God was he a stupid ass hole! His stomach was all churned up. What if she got so mad she left him? He had to be the stupidest man alive. Still, he pretended to be tough, "Go on."

Cathy thought this was her only chance, "Look you weren't this All American Good Guy when your wife was alive. I mean before you found out about her cancer, you were something of a jerk. I know who you were. You cut out on her. You lied, you broke her heart." She watched. She knew she was telling the truth. He'd been a cad. She could tell he didn't like it, he was pissed, but this was all she had.

He sat down opposite her, "Can you give me one good reason why I shouldn't just kick you out?" It was a bluff and he knew it. He'd never kick her out. If she chose to leave he'd beg her to stay.

This was it, her moment of truth, "I suppose you could do that, you could do that, and feel good about it, at least for a while. But you can't really, and you won't."

Play it tough he told himself, "Oh yeah, why not?"

She felt like she was on the Titanic cruising for an iceberg, "I'll tell you why not." Well here goes she thought, "First you're better than that. You couldn't just do that, just throw me out I mean. It's just not in you. You see you're basically a very good person, probably the best man I've ever met. Besides I know you love me." 

He stiffened. She had him and she knew it.

She watched him stiffen. He was going to kick her out, she knew it. Still She kept at it, "You do love me. I know you do. I know you do because I know you. I didn't at first, but I do now. When I first came along I thought you were just another self-serving male egomaniac. Well I found out you're not, and in finding out about you I found out about myself." She prayed this was the right track. It was her last chance. She asked, "You listening?"

He was scared to death. He was the only man he knew who could screw up a two car parade. H e was going to lose her.He nodded.

"I was a bad person, a monster, but I'm not anymore. You fixed that. You changed me." She squirmed around, the chains on her feet rattled, "Your wife died. It hurt. You suffered. You changed. You went from a simpleton to a real man. Well that goodness you found in yourself rubs off. It's rubbed off on me. Don't ask me how, but it did. Who knows? Maybe I was ready? I watched you with those children. At first I just watched, then I wanted to help, then I wanted to be like you, do what you do, to be to those kids what you are to them."




Too Clever by a Mile Ch. 04



She tried to get up, get closer, but it was too hard, "Don't you see. I'm not what I was. I'm not saying I'm good, but I'm not what I was. You talked about Ginger. She was dying. She had mousy brown hair, and wore glasses. You reminded me about that, and right then, that very night, I realized the one thing I really wanted to do was show up in her hospital room with dark brown hair and glasses."

Cathy started to cry...again, "I mean it. I wanted her to see me. I thought I could make a difference. OK she died, but I made a difference. I did Steve. I made a difference. I made her feel good, if it was only for a minute. I did something really good for a little girl. I did too. You saw it. I did. Another little boy or girl might die this week, maybe tomorrow; I want to make a difference for them too. For Ginger's sake, for her memory I'm entitled to that. If it's only cleaning the toilets at the hospice, I'm entitled. You're entitled to that. I never met your wife. I never knew Leah. Steve I know she would have been proud of me. She would have told you. Give Cathy a chance."

He listened with relief. She wouldn't leave him, but she didn't know Leah, that was for sure. He interrupted, "How am I entitled?"

Cathy felt like she was pleading for her life, and he was Judge Roy Bean, "You made me different. Look, my mom was treated real bad by my father. It was so bad I swore I'd get even with all men. I never dreamed there were any really good men, then I met you. Sure I came to steal from you. Maybe I did. Maybe I stole some of your goodness. Look let me out, just for Ginger. I won't try to run away. Look let me just help out around the hospice. Bring me back here every night and lock me back up. I don't care. No I do care. I want to be a good person. I want to be like you. I know you love me. I don't know how many times I've said I loved you. Well I do. Let me earn your love, if not that then at least your respect."

He was full of all kinds of conflicting emotions. He wanted to grab her and smother her in kisses. He wanted to kick himself in the ass. He wanted..., "What's wrong with me Cathy. Can you tell me that?"

She reached out and touched his knee, "I'll tell you what's wrong with you. You know what I've been doing the last couple of weeks when I wasn't shopping?"

This was interesting, "What were you doing?"

"I've been seeing another man. That's right. I've been going to that Methodist church you mentioned. I've been talking to the pastor. He wants us to start going to church. You know what else. I've been researching the Internet. I've been studying up on nursing courses. I fantasized about how I could be a nurse at the hospice, at our hospice. You could run the hospice, and I could help take care of the kids. Check my lap top if you don't believe me. I'll tell you what's wrong with you. You make everybody you meet want to be better. That's what's wrong with you. You happen to be one of those people who want to make the world a better place. And I want to marry you! I want to be your wife. I want to make babies with you." There she said it. Where the water came from she didn't know, but she broke into tears again.

He started to cry too. Then he smiled down at her, "You really are full of piss aren't you?"

She kept crying, "No I'm not. I meant every word."

He smiled broadly. Relief swept over him like a morning breeze in springtime. He started to laugh, "No I mean your blouse and your panties. You really are full of piss." He reached down and took her in his arms, "I believe maybe half of what you said, but I think half is enough to give you a chance, or maybe whatever you want. How about that?"

Her hands were locked up. Her legs were cramped and sore. All she could do was lean toward him. She pressed against him with all her might, "I'm sorry Steve. I'm so sorry. Let me make up for things. Let me show you how much I love you."

He didn't unlock her. He helped her to her feet, and half carried half walked her to the gazebo door. He pushed the door open, and picked her up like a baby. He gently kissed her. She kissed him back. As tired and as sore as she was she wanted him, she wanted him very much, but not in the way of sex. She just wanted to be near him.

He let her head fall back on his right arm. Her chained legs dangled over his left arm. He ran his fingers through her dark brown hair. He passed a soft kiss over her forehead. He whispered, "I'm not letting you loose. I'm taking you upstairs, and we're going to bed together. We're going to sleep together, sleep you hear me, no sex, no more crying, no more wondering, just sleep, and I'm not letting you loose. God she looked so tired, but so beautiful. Yeah he thought, 'pretty is as pretty does, and she sure is pretty'.

Steve carried Cathy upstairs to the bedroom. He was tired, and it was a long haul, but they made it. He had a lot of thinking to do. He realized everything he'd thought about Cathy had been wrong. Now it was time to figure out what his problem was. He still had a problem with what she'd done to two husbands. He somehow felt he and she had to make amends for that. He figured it was stupid, but he also figured it might be the right thing to do. Then there was Theresa and Glynnis. They had to be set straight, not in a punitive way, but in a loving way. Last, of course, there was the hospice, always the hospice.

++++++++++++

From the author:

This is only chapter four. I think I'll drop the succeeding chapters with more frequency. Vote if you like; a five every now and then would be most encouraging. Comments are always welcome. In fact if I got some comments.



Too Clever by a Mile Ch. 05



Chapter Five: Stupid games, dumb mistakes, and more misunderstanding 

She was already almost asleep when they reached the bed. He pulled down the bedspread and the top sheet; he laid her on the new soft cotton sheet. He'd shifted to cotton from satin; thought it was more manly. 

They lay there side by side. She had her back up against him. Brother was she tired.

Cathy lay beside her man on the bed. Her hands and feet were still imprisoned by the chains. She still had his collar wrapped snugly around her neck; the tiny medallion that asserted his ownership lay comfortably below her chin in that soft valley of flesh at the bottom of her throat. 

The manacles that embraced her wrists and ankles limited the movement of her arms and legs. Though none of the things hurt he was sure she disliked them. They were a little heavy, not heavy enough to be a bother her, but still just heavy enough to be reminded they were there. 

Cathy lay there; she wondered if he had any plans of taking the infernal things off. It didn't look like it. Though she felt soft and snug, all cuddled up next to her man, she wished she were free of restraint. She began to furtively move about. She hoped the movement might send a message.

Steve felt her move. He heard the faint jingle and jangle of her chains. He supposed he should let her loose, but he liked the idea of her lying helpless beside him, and the soft tintabulation of the metal was like an aphrodisiac. He pressed himself more closely against her back. Her soft warm body plus the helplessness of her situation aroused him. He pressed his manhood against her rear end. 

Anal sex had its appeal, but he wasn't inclined that way at the moment. He allowed his hard member to slide below her ass and let it rest insistently at the base of her vagina. He maneuvered her panties away from her crotch and pushed a little harder. She pressed back.

Lying side by side, back to belly, he slowly allowed himself to enter her. She was warm and wet. He slowly, ever so slowly, pushed in a little further; then he allowed himself to pull back slightly. She followed his penis with her behind. He pushed forward again. He moved slowly, back and forth; with her moving in unison, they enjoyed the moment. 

They were both exhausted; it was over in minutes, but it was delightful, warm, wet, and too him anyway, romantic. He liked the feeling of his manly fluids filling up the inside her cavern.

Cathy, though still chained, enjoyed the interlude. She liked the way it felt when he was inside her. It occurred to her he was going to feel mighty guilty when they woke up. Maybe she could act out on it a little; maybe, just maybe, she could get him to see the ridiculousness of what he'd done. He wanted a chained up girl, a pet, some kind of slave girl. Maybe a day or two of play acting wouldn't hurt. She drifted off to sleep. Yes she'd pretend, and he could too, but she intended his pretense be rooted in self-conscious embarrassment. She sort of liked the idea; pretending to be his slave girl.

Hide and Seek!

Cathy awakened first. At first arousal she'd forgotten about the manacles and tried to stretch. Oops, she thought as she brought her hands back down. She pulled her hands up under her chin and rested her fingertips on her cheeks. She moved her feet a little to check on how much freedom she had down there. Not a lot she surmised. 

She felt the collar around her neck. She took the index finger of her left hand and tapped the little amulet that dangled there. It emitted a faint jingle. She stopped the sound by holding it in two fingers. She thought to herself, this is going to be my lucky charm. I'm going to wear it from now on. She thought about the locket. She'd wear that too. She'd wear them both. 

Cathy tried to roll a little to her left. She been sleeping on her right side all night, and wanted to give it a rest. Slowly she managed to get over on her back. She thought why not further, she kept slowly rolling till she was on her left side. She looked over at Steve, "Oh!"

He was wide awake and looking back at her.

"Steve, I didn't know you were awake?"

He yawned, "I just woke up. He stretched. Since he wasn't confined by anything he could stretch the full limit. He stretched again and then said, "Let me get you out of those things."

Cathy blew on his nose, "No you can't."

He eyed her with his left eye, "What?"

"I'm your slave. You chained me up. Now you have to take care of me."

He sat up on his right elbow, "Wait a minute. You're the slave. You have to wait on me."

She pushed herself up so she was sitting on her left butt cheek, "Your slave needs to be bathed."

He lay there, "Well go get a bath."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"My master has to carry me into the bathroom, and cleanse my body."

He still wasn't exactly playing along, "You can get a bath without my help."

She rolled so that she was kneeling on the bed in front of him, "You mustn't let your slave out of your sight. She might try to run away."

He chuckled. He reached up and pressed his hand against her right breast. It felt firm and warm. He chided, "She can't. She's been chained hand and foot."

Cathy wiggled her chest so he had to let go of her breast. She climbed off the bed and started for the door.

He sat up, "Hey, where are you going."

She looked back as she closed the door behind her, "I'm running away, and you'll never find me."

Steve got out of the bed and started for the hall. This was silliness. By the time he got there she was already at the top of the stairs. He shouted, "Hey wait!"

Cathy was on her rump bouncing down the steps one at a time.

He ran to the top of the steps just in time to see her as she slipped into the foyer. He said to himself, "Holy shit, she really is trying to run away."

He hurried down the steps, through the foyer, and to the front door. He saw Cathy scudding along awkwardly down the driveway; her seventeen inches of chain made it hard to cover much ground very fast. Still, in another ten seconds if she wasn't stopped she'd be in the street. 

Steve took off after her, but stopped. He watched and realized she didn't have anything on except her chains and a soggy pair of panties, and both were seriously inhibiting her rate of speed. In fact if she didn't slow down she'd probably soon fall down.  

He looked down. Shit. He didn't have anything on either. He figured; she's not going far because she doesn't want to get caught out on the street totally chained up and naked. Why the police would take her to jail, and then she'd be in a real world of shit. 

Steve went back inside. He slipped on some jeans, a T-shirt, and a pair of tennis shoes. He found his wallet and keys. Laughing to himself he nonchalantly strolled out the front door and looked around. The house fronted the street very closely, only about a hundred feet, but it was on a two acre lot. The front was tree lined with hedges immediately around the drive and along the road. The front of the yard was small, but the back was substantial, with the gazebo, a shed, a swimming pool, and a healthy stand of evergreen trees. The trees covered nearly an acre at the far end. 

Cathy reached the edge of the property and realized she was almost to the road. Traffic was never heavy, and even less so this time of day, but she certainly couldn't allow herself to be seen and caught the way she was. She wasn't stupid. Once at the front hedge she looked back. Steve wasn't anywhere to be seen. He probably hadn't made it out of the house yet. Already out of breath and perspiring heavily she leaned over and gasped for air. She decided the thing was to cut along the hedges to the back end of the yard. Once she reached the trees she could probably hide out for hours. Beyond that she didn't know; she only knew her key goal was not to get caught.

Steve stood on the front portal and looked around, but there was no sign of the girl. Well, he thought, if she wanted to make a game of it, he was up for it. Certain she hadn't made for the road he casually strolled around the house. 

This was too easy. He walked around the house to the backyard. She couldn't have made it to the gazebo. Hiding in the shed would be crazy, and if she went to the pool he'd see her right away. He stood very still, put his hand over his forehead to cut down the glare and slowly scanned the back yard. She was very light skinned, white actually, she was certainly wet with sweat, and she was wearing bright shiny noisy chains. 

He let his eyes ski across the back yard looking for any sign of movement. He saw her near the end of the yard. She looked to be trying to find a good spot to hide. Most of the trees were evergreens; a mixture of white pines, blue spruce, Serbian spruce, Norway spruce, and Douglas Firs. This was going to be fun; he'd track her down and drag her back to the house and punish her. But first he needed something with which to bring her back. 

He went to the shed and rolled out the lawnmower. Then he went back into the gazebo and unhooked the chain he'd used to tether her to the floor the night before. He'd run her down with the tractor, chain her to the back, and then ride back to the house where he'd take her inside, clean her up, and give her some kind of punishment. Oh was this going to be fun. He could chase her around the trees all day.

She knew she wouldn't dare run out in the road, so she decided to run down and hide in the trees at the far end of the yard. She could watch him run around while she hid out. It would be a great game, kind of like hide and seek; only he'd never catch her. 

Cathy had run out of the front door fully expecting Steve to follow her also completely naked. She conjured a plan. She'd dart around in the trees till she got between him and the house, then she'd dash for the house, get in, and lock him outside. She'd be inside in the cool comfort of the house, while he'd be outside with nothing on. 

The only drawback to Cathy's plan had been he hadn't followed her script. He was fully clothed, unhampered by metal restraints, and about to start the lawnmower. 

She sat hunched behind one of the trees and waited. She saw Steve come out. What was he doing? First she saw he'd gotten dressed. Somehow that didn't seem quite fair. He already had the advantage of not being trussed up, now he had clothes and she didn't. 

She watched him go to the shed. What was he doing? Then she saw him push out the lawn tractor. Damn him, he could ride around on that all day and never break a sweat. It didn't matter she still had the advantage. All she had to do was move around every now and then. She'd always be just once step ahead. She looked around for a better spot. She saw one over on the far side. She started for it. As she turned she stumbled and almost fell down. Her darn ankle chain had gotten wrapped around a root. She had to pull it free. As she pulled, it rattled and popped up and hit her shin. She yelped, "Ouch!"

She looked up to the far end of the yard. She thought Steve might have heard her. She stood perfectly still and watched. It didn't look like he'd heard anything. This wasn't going to be as easy as she originally thought. She'd have to be more careful. 

Steve had gone in the gazebo and gotten the length of chain. He went back to the shed and got two old master locks. He wasn't going to play around with the little screwdriver. When he caught her he would lock her up good and proper. 

How would he do it? He thought things over. He got the wire cutters and another master lock. He had it figured out pretty good.

He stepped back out in the yard, and looked around. He heard her before he saw her. She was standing at the far west end of the wooded area. This was going to be easier than he thought. He climbed on the lawn tractor and started it up. 

Cathy heard the lawn tractor. She pushed back as far into the trees as she could. The sap and the needles were making her itch. She decided to wait and see what came up.

Steve started off slow. He already knew where she was. He figured he'd add to the fun if he acted like he wasn't sure. He drove down to the end of the yard and stopped at the tree line. He turned the engine off and pretended to listen. He turned the tractor back on and veered off to the left away from her general direction. He went very slowly, and didn't go into the trees. He rode down the front. He wanted to make sure she didn't escape out of the wooded area.

Cathy heard the lawn tractor drive off in the opposite direction. She crept out of her hiding place to see where he was. When she got to the tree line she saw he was at the other end, but still not in the trees. He was turning the tractor around. Too far from the house to carry out her plan she slipped back into the trees.

Steve drove the tractor at low rpm up the tree line. He knew exactly where she was. First he thought he could turn the engine off, get off the mower and sneak up on her and catch her that way. He changed his mind. That wouldn't be as much fun. He wanted to make her run around a little.

Cathy heard the engine slow down. She heard it coming closer. There were butterflies in her stomach. She knew it was just Steve, but the idea of getting caught was still kind of scary. She moved from her spot and stealthily crept toward of the front tree line.

Steve turned the tractor into the trees and went all the way to the back of the yard. He was glad he'd had the big anchor fence put up. He knew she couldn't climb it. She was trapped inside the yard. Heck, he knew she wouldn't leave the yard anyway. She didn't have anything on. 

He continued to power along the rear of the tree line. He thought he heard something so he stopped. He turned the engine off. Yes, he heard her chains as they clattered across the woods floor. There wasn't much grass among the trees, so there wasn't much chance of anything muffling the sound of the metal. He kept listening. She was just ahead and off to the left. He turned the engine on and gunned it forward.

Cathy heard the engine come back on. He was a lot closer than she thought! She ran back across the front of the trees thinking she'd get to the other end before he broke into the cleared part of the yard. 

Steve heard her and took off. He saw her. Then he watched as she sort of ran sort of loped across the grass in front of the trees. She had her hands together and in close to her body. Her foot shackles rattled noisily. She was having trouble maintaining her balance. He hoped she didn't hurt herself. Just the same he let her rustle by. He turned the tractor away as she passed so she'd think she'd escaped again.

Cathy slithered across the grass as best she could. She saw Steve on the tractor. He was going in the other direction. He missed her!

Once she went by he turned the tractor back around and started to motor at high speed down the back of the tree line. They were traveling in parallel paths; her in the front, him in the back only he was going much faster.

Steve reached the end of the woods and turned right. He pumped the throttle and broke free into the yard just about fifteen feet in front of her. He'd cut her off! 

Cathy was stunned! She'd thought she'd outsmarted him. There was no sense in running back in the trees. He'd be right behind her. She looked up the yard. There was the gazebo, the pool, and the shed. She made a dash for the shed. She figured it was solid and the path between it and the gazebo was too narrow for the tractor. He wouldn't be able to navigate the lawn tractor in the narrower space. He wouldn't be able to get her if she made the other side. If she ran fast enough she could get to the house, get inside, and still be able to lock him out.

Steve gunned the engine and took off right behind her. She was trying to run but she only had eighteen inches of ankle chain. He caught her about half way up the yard. He stopped the engine, jumped off the tractor and easily ran her down. Tackling her gently he eased her to the ground.

He shouted out, "I got you!"

Cathy was prone on the grass on her stomach. She tried to get up. Gasping for air, covered with dirt and grass she tried to kick out, but he had her. He grabbed the chain that held her wrists, pushed her arms out in front of her, took the wire cutters and snipped them apart right in the middle.

With her hands free Cathy thought she had a chance. She tried to squirm around to push Steve off her. It was a futile effort.

Steve got her left hand, pulled it behind her back, and hooked one of the master locks in the end link. He got her right hand, pulled it behind her back, and locked the two ends of the recently cut chain back together. Her hands were safely locked behind her back. 

Cathy squirmed and tried to get free.

Steve got another perverse idea. He made like he had to find the longer chain he would use to attach her to the lawnmower. He feigned ignorance of its whereabouts.

While he was pretending to fiddle with the chain and mower Cathy clambered to her feet and started back toward the trees again. Steve let her escape.

Cathy got back in the trees, out of breath, but now with her poor hands chained behind her. She'd gotten away, but she was worse off. 

Steve casually got back on the lawnmower. He chuckled and said to himself quietly, "So the game of cat and mouse goes on."

He restarted the mower and went back toward the trees. This time he thought he'd have a little more fun. He figured Cathy would certainly prefer the relative safety of the trees to the open dangers of the yard. 

Cathy was temporarily safely hidden in the trees, but she heard the tractor coming. She was breathing quite heavily. She figured she was better off where she was in the trees. She knew now she couldn't outrun the tractor, but in the trees she still had a fighting chance.

Steve came rolling down. He knew right where she was. First he could see her glistening little boobs, and second it was twice as hard to keep the chains quiet when she was out of breath. He drove straight in her direction.

Cathy heard the tractor before she saw it, but pretty soon it was right there. She dodged out and started to run toward the back of the trees.

Steve saw her and swerved ahead cutting her escape route off. 

Cathy ran back to her original spot and scoped the situation out. She didn't have much time she heard the tractor on its way.

Steve powered right in her direction. She was a goner if she didn't run pretty soon.

Cathy saw the tractor. The larger part of the trees was lost to her now, and the open yard was out of the question. She scampered back toward the last of the trees in the far western corner of the yard. 

Steve saw her and started to power in her direction. She saw Steve and ran for the last of the copse of trees. It was a small stand of Douglas Firs. Why did it have to be Douglas Firs? They were the most prickly of all the trees. She has no choice; into the Douglas firs she fled.

Steve, riding the mower, was right behind. She wasn't more than five feet from the tractor. She made a dash for the main group of trees. Steve let her. Then he powered up the tractor and started to run her down. 

Cathy ran for a white pine; her last chance. She ran to one side just in time to see Steve catch up with her. He was right there, not more than three feet away. 

She ran toward the yard. This was her last gasp.

Steve jumped off the tractor; it was time to bring the chase to an end. Running and carrying two locks and fourteen feet of chain he caught her not more than fifteen feet into the yard. 

Cathy stopped running. Out of breath, no place to go, and not enough chain to be able to lengthen her stride she gave up.

Steve caught up with her, "Aha, the slave is recaptured!"

Out of breath, out of energy, but not out of spunk, she turned around. Hands behind her back, caught in the yard, she tried to kick him. That was the dumbest thing she'd done all morning. In trying to kick him she lost her balance and fell over backwards. She landed right on her behind. She cried out in pain.




Too Clever by a Mile Ch. 05



Steve watched her fall. Thank God the grass was thick and hadn't been cut in over a week. The fall certainly hurt, but he was sure she wasn't injured. He rushed up and quickly wrapped the chain around her waist.

She looked up. Her heart was pounding. She was horrified, but in a way glad. He was going to chain her at the waist, a bad thing, but he could have chained her neck.

He laughed; he used a master lock and joined the chain tightly around her waist. He gave it a tug, "Up you go."

She exclaimed, "No!"

He reached own and grabbed her collar. He pulled up. "I said up you go." He took the chain and held it up. You want me to chain you around the neck?

She shook her head in the negative.

"Follow me then."

She followed as he led her back to the lawn mower. Once back at the mower he locked the free end of the chain to the back of the mower. He looked back at Cathy. She looked tired, but still fit enough for a little activity. He smiled, "Try to keep up." He thought he might around the yard a little; he'd make her try to scamper along behind.

He turned on the engine and started slowly across the lawn.

She followed, connected to the back of the tractor by about twelve feet of chain. She was tired and absolutely exhausted, but she saw one more chance. He was driving the tractor without watching her. She charged the tractor. Her plan was to knock him off the seat, and drive away before he could get up, then he could chase her around the yard all afternoon. 

Cathy hit him in the back with her body as hard as she could. It wasn't enough.

Steve realized his mistake right away. He turned off the tractor, dropped the key in his trousers, and turned around. She was scared, "So you still want to play? That was stupid Cathy. How are you going to drive the tractor with your hands behind your back?"

That had been her last chance, it was dumb anyway, and she blew it. She collapsed on the grass.

He looked at her, "Oh no. It doesn't end like that." 

Since he had the key he knew she couldn't do anything with the tractor, but in the shed he had another tool. A year before Leah died they'd had a raccoon problem. Rather than kill them he'd purchased a twelve foot pole with a rope attachment that looped at the end. He'd used it to loop the roped end over the raccoon's head, and then push the animal into a wooden box for shipment someplace to be released in the wild. 

He found the pole and returned to the tractor and Cathy, "Hold up your head."

She saw the device and knew what it was for, "No!"

He repeated, "Hold up your head."

"No, Steve, please that's so degrading."

He was firm, "Up."

She wanted to just cry, "No Steve please. That's for animals."

Again he ordered, "Hold up your head."

Defeated, and thoroughly humiliated, she held her head up.

Steve circled her head with the rope and pulled it taut. He walked to the back of the tractor, as he moved the rigid pole forced her to follow at precisely twelve feet. He leaned down and unlocked the length of chain he'd originally used as his tool to bring her to the house. With the pole in one hand, and the chain in the other he ordered, "OK, back to the house."

She looked at him and mouthed an obscenity.

He repeated, "March." Not waiting he started toward the house.

Cathy had no choice; the long rigid pole impelled her forward. She slowly and uncomfortably was pushed and walked to the front door. The chains around her feet slathered across the grass, while another chain held her hands tightly behind her back.

As they reached the top of the steps, he looked around, "Well here we are, right back where we started."

She got more butterflies in her stomach, "What are you going to do to me now?"

He pushed the pole down so that she was forced to kneel on the hard concrete paving of the front porch. "You've been very bad, a really naughty little slave. First you're getting a lot of kisses, then a nice warm bath followed by a soothing massage finished with some creams and salves to fix up your many wounds. Then I think I'll have to punish you."

She looked up with sad pleading eyes, "You wouldn't spank me would you?"

He laughed, "Oh I think a spanking is definitely in order." Then he walked over and undid the evil pole that held her head. He helped her to her feet. He kissed her on both cheeks, and then on both eyes, "Come on little slave girl. It's time you learned who the master is around here."

Cathy giggled; it had become a silly game again, just like the bustier and the red ribbon. She looked up pleadingly, "Oh master, please have pity on your little slave?"

He laughed, and took her gently by the elbow, "Come on, let's go inside and get you cleaned up."

She laughed, "Oh yes sir."

Together they walked back inside the house. Both were pretty happy. Steve's stupid and mean spirited introduction of the chains could have been the tragic end of a budding love affair, as it was Cathy's morning game of hide and seek had turned his stupid act into another childish sex game. 

A Thorough Cleaning Leads to More Love: 

Steve got Cathy inside and upstairs to the bathroom, "My oh my, you're a mess."

Together, standing in the tub, Cathy saw what she felt; her naked flesh was a mass of tiny cuts and scrapes' "I really hurt Steve."

He turned on the water, and they both stood under the wet spray. For him it was just a nice tepid little rinse, but for Cathy every place where the water hit a scratch or an abrasion there was pain. 

He was careful. Using his hands he took a bar of unscented soap and lathered her from top to bottom. He thoroughly soaped her hair with the simple soap, scrubbing deep into her scalp to get all the sap, pine needles, and dirt out. Being a lot taller he could lather and re-lather her hair from above. With her hands behind her back he could see her little boobs as they bounced and jiggled about. With the soap suds and the silky wetness glistening around her nipples and aureoles he was getting very aroused. 

He used his fingers and massaged her scalp. He was gentle but firm. He could tell she really like it. Her hair hung down just below her ears. 

He soaped up her ears, keeping a finger in each one; he took the flexible nozzle and sprayed them out. He nuzzled and kissed each ear, he nibbled on each tiny lobe. 

While her hair was wet he took a brush and combed the knots out trying to get any residual sap. He combed a part in it straight down the middle. He thought how her hair, thanks to his incremental efforts, was several inches shorter than when he first met her. He'd also gotten her to stop using any rinses, and though there were still traces of her past life there, her hair was mostly back to its natural color. 

He knew she liked her hair longer and he knew she didn't particularly like her real color, but that had been a part of the plan. Women identified very strongly with their hair. Their impression of their sexuality and self-image was closely connected to the way they thought their hair looked. He'd been slowly working to her erode her self-image through his piecemeal attack on her hair. He thought it might be working.

Standing in the shower with her hair lank and wet he thought maybe another visit to the beauty parlor, another minor diminution of her ego was in order, "Cathy let's get some of these uneven ends trimmed later today."

She would've liked to reach up and try to feel what he was describing, but her hands were still chained behind her back, "Oh I don't know. I thought it was OK, and it's already pretty short. Steve do you think there's enough to cut?"

He used his hands to gently massage the back of her head and neck and clean out the sweat and grime that accumulated under her collar. He kissed the side of her face, "Just another trim."

Knowing he'd insist, she sighed, "Do we have to?"

He used his hands to soap her shoulders, rinse the soapy water, and gently apply pressure to her upper back. He could feel the tension in her muscles back there, "Yeah, I think so." He kissed her again and felt her press against him with her head.

He washed up and down her arms, and got all the grit off her wrist chain and from under her wrist manacles. He looked at the master lock that held her hands together. It was out of place, "Raise your arms a little honey so I can get your underarms better. 

She raised her arms upward and backward, "Stop it that tickles." She pressed back against him.

He kissed the nape of her neck while he lathered and slathered down her back. He turned her around and soaped her breasts and stomach. Her exercises had firmed her up nicely. Her soft little boobies stood out and up like two perfect little pears, her dark brown aureoles made two perfect circles surrounding darker perfectly erect nipples. He took his lips and kissed and then nibbled on each one, gently sucking each gorgeous little nipple outward as he finished. 

He looked in her eyes while he kissed and scrubbed, "You have beautiful little nipples. He patted her soapy stomach, "You're getting a little tummy. I like it" 

He leaned down and kissed her navel, "You have a pretty navel button. You have an innie. It's cute."

The mention of her navel was embarrassing. She blushed.

Just as bad, the way Steve was holding her made it impossible to see if her stomach was that much bigger. She knew she'd gained a little weight lately. She attributed it to the rich foods Steve had been encouraging her to eat, and his refusal to let her weigh herself to find out what the damage was. She had never been a fat person, not by a mile, but she'd always been careful about her weight; skinnier girls always looked better when dressed. 

She had worn a size four most of her adult life, but lately when shopping she'd had to buy a size up. It was partly due to her growing complacency, what being comfortable with Steve's approval, and his observations of other women's softer features. Though it made her a little more self-conscious she wanted to be the way Steve wanted her to be. She asked, "I'm not too fat am I?"

He rubbed over her tummy, "You're just right."

She felt better.

He got down on his knees and went to work on her lower body. Eyeball to vagina he said, "We need another little visit from the Nair doctor. He took his fingertips and lightly rubbed over her vaginal mound. Lately the flesh inside and between her labial lips had started to extrude more when she was aroused. He took his fingers and carefully pulled her labia apart. He felt her response. She shivered ever so slightly. He took his tongue and licked up and down her cleft. He smelled and tasted her vaginal fluid; it was a combination of urine and a sweet sticky maybe oily substance that had its own distinct sort of fishy aroma. He liked it.

He pressed his nose against her crease, and felt her push back against him. He got his nose right inside her vagina. It felt neat.

He held her ass and pulled her tighter to his face, sticking as much of his face in her pussy as he could. He softly bit a morsel, and heard her low breathy sigh. 

He leaned back, got soap on his hands, and pushed his face into her pussy while he used his soapy hands to push and wipe over her rear end. Though his hands weren't overlarge, her ass was small. He was able to nearly grab and hold each ass cheek, one hand for each soft pink cheek. The more he kissed her lower lips the wetter she got. He took his lips and started to nibble and pull on the flesh that extruded between her peachy pink labia. 

Cathy would have liked to run her fingers through his hair, maybe pull him in tighter to her puss, but her hands were still trapped behind her back. She giggled as she pushed against him, "Steve stop it. This isn't fair." 

He backed off, and started to scrub up and down her thighs. The wetness from her vagina was starting to seep down her inner thighs. He cleaned out around her ankle cuffs. The chains clanked noisily on the floor of porcelain tub. 

Finally he got up. She was a lot shorter than he was. He had a terrific erection, but it stood well up on her stomach, way above her navel. If she were a little taller he guessed he could've got inside her while they were standing there. As it was he would've been standing too awkwardly to accomplish much. 

He gave her whole body a final rinse, climbed out of the tub, and then lifted her out. The bathroom was hot and steamy, "Stay here. The screwdriver's in the bedroom. I want to unshackle you."

She didn't object. She wanted to stretch her arms.

He was out and back in a second. He got the wrist and ankle cuffs easily enough. The collar came off last. He took a hot wet washcloth and wiped around her neck and each wrist and ankle one more time. He held her tightly to his body and kissed the top of her head. He whispered, "Let's take a nap."

A nap was the last thing on her mind, but she nodded and followed him in the bedroom. He helped her on the still unmade bed, "Lie down on your stomach." he softly commanded.

She did as she was told. He hoped she knew what was coming next.

Steve sat on the bed and pulled her over, "I hope you know what's coming next." 

She lay next to him anticipating something special.

He moved quickly. He got her on her stomach and on his lap and over his knee, "I told you that you would have to be punished."

Gee, she thought, that was fast, "You're not going to spank me are you?"

He answered, "Well you've been a naughty girl now haven't you?"

She thought he'd been kidding about a punishment. She thought a punishment meant more love making, certainly not what he seemed to have in mind, "Steve I'm a grown woman. I haven't been spanked since my father spanked me when I was five years old."

"Well then, you're long overdue."

She squirmed a little, but not much. She knew he was a lot stronger. Her best way out of this was with her mouth, "Look you wrapped a collar on me, chained my hands and feet, locked me out in the gazebo for a whole night, chased me naked around the yard, ran me down, yoked me with a rope and pole, forced me back in the house at the end of a pole, and then soaped and washed me from head to foot. Isn't that enough?"

In an uncharacteristically light and lilting voice he answered, "But I did it all for you."

She tersely answered, "Thanks, now let me roll over I want to kiss you."

He gently took his right hand and smoothed over her bare ass, "But I want to kiss your ass with the palm of my hand."

She softly replied, hoping for a better response, "If you let me roll over, I'll make you very happy."

He knew what that meant. It didn't make him happy. He wondered if she hadn't used the same phrase and the same enticement on her husbands. He told her so, "I bet you've said that to all the boys."

She knew what he meant, "Look Steve, I just don't want to be spanked, but I do want to make you happy."

"A spanking would make me happy."

She got sarcastic, and knew it was a mistake as soon as what she said came out, "Then let me spank you."

"Ah the naughty little girl comes back." He gave her a hard swat on the left cheek.

"Ouch, come on that hurt!"

He smacked her again, this time on the right cheek.

"Steve!"

He gave her another on the left.

She tried to squirm off his lap.

He walloped both cheeks again, really hard. He watched as the marks of his hands left bright red splotches on each cheek.

It wasn't funny anymore. It hurt! It hurt really bad! She squirmed and wiggled, "Let me up damn you!"

He let her have it again and then again on each cheek.

She panicked, and really started to fight to get off his lap. 

He held her even more tightly, and let her have several more loud cracks on each butt cheek.

She kicked her legs up and down, then back and forth. She leaned down and bit him hard on the leg.

Steve jumped at the bite. It made him mad. He really went at it. He wailed into her ass. Time after time he brought his big hand down on her tender little ass. He lost count. He was angry! Her ass went from pink to red, and then in places blue. This is what she deserved. She had it coming. It was all her fault! She was to blame! She should never...he started crying. He grabbed Cathy by the waist and rolled her off his legs. He shouted at her, "Get out of here! Go in the bathroom!"

Crying, Cathy fled to the bathroom.

Steve sat on the bed. He'd stopped crying as soon as he'd started. What had he been doing? Who was he mad at? What was wrong with him? He finally got control of himself. To the tune of Cathy's tears from the other side of the door in the bathroom he whispered, "Cathy I'm going for a ride. Why don't you get dressed while I'm gone? I'll take you out to lunch."

From the other side of the door she shouted, "Go away!"

Steve, shoulders slumped, went to the closet, got a pair of pants and a shirt. He grabbed some socks and a pair of shoes. He walked back over to the bathroom door and heard her crying on the other side, "Look Cathy I didn't mean it. I'm really sorry. Put on something pretty while I'm out. I want to take you to lunch. We'll talk."

Through the door she shouted, "Go away." She kept crying. 

He walked out of the bedroom down to his car, started it up and drove off. He started to softly cry. He'd hurt her, and in a way men weren't supposed to hurt women. He'd never, ever, not in his whole life, done anything like what he'd done to her. This was so wrong. What was wrong with him? What was it about Cathy that brought this side of his nature out? Was it because she was so small and homely? Was it that she always had that helpless and weak, that waifish needy look? Why did she have to say what she said? What had she said anyway?

Cathy sat in the bathroom and tried to dry her eyes. Why was she always crying? What was wrong with her? Shit, what was wrong with Steve? He really went deep. She was hurting very bad. She checked her little ass out. A few moments earlier they were on the edge of something wonderful, and then she'd said something. She'd made him an offer, and he'd gone off the wall. He'd misinterpreted what she said.

In her pain and her anger Cathy began to realize there was something about Steve she hadn't understood before. She'd gone after him believing she had another fish on the hook. He wasn't. Then she must have gone too far the other way. He wasn't some kind of manly saint. No he wasn't a fool, and he wasn't some perfect hero, but he wasn't some brutal bastard either. He was a man, just a regular guy, but there was something wrong, there was something else there. He never talked about his wife. She wondered. Hell, he'd done so much to change her. But what of him? He had his scars too. Wasn't there anything she could do for him? If there was she had to find out what the problem was.

OK, she'd get ready, she'd get dressed, and she'd wear something nice, something clean looking. They'd go to lunch. She thought. They'd talk. They'll start over, but if she didn't like what she heard, she was out of there.

++++++++++++

Steve got back in the very late afternoon. He hoped he hadn't hung out too long. When he walked in she was waiting in the foyer. She looked marvelous, no she looked perfect.

Cathy had selected a simple white cotton day dress. It buttoned up the front from the hem all the way to the collar. It had long, actually three quarter length sleeves. There was no trim, no shirring, no ruffles, just a simple dress, with a simple round collar. Around her neck she wore the one piece of jewelry Steve had given her, the locket that had belonged to Leah. She completed the dress with a pair of white saddle shoes, white socks, and a small white clutch purse. She wore no make up so she looked particularly plain; to accentuate the austere look she kept her hair in a simple tight pony tail. She had her glasses on. 




Too Clever by a Mile Ch. 05



He never thought anyone so simple, so unadorned could be so beautiful. She exuded the kind of raw untrammeled beauty he loved more than anything else. Sexy no, pretty, not really, but just downright lovable. He wished he'd never heard about the two husbands. 

He held out his left hand, "May I take you to lunch?"

She coolly accepted, "Yes, please."

They drove to the restaurant in silence. He didn't know what to say, and she had no intention of letting him off the hook. The restaurant he chose was a classic Mom and Pop type of place, a local family owned eatery that had been around for forty years, it provided good home cooking, no elaborate foreign sounding entrées, a menu with the actual prices on it, and a simple wine list. 

They were seated and the waitress came around.

He asked, "Would you like a drink?"

"I'll have a white wine."

Steve told the waitress, "I'll have the same."

As the waitress left to fetch their wines he started, "Look I'm sorry for...back there."

She wasn't sure if he meant back there as at the house or back there as in her behind, "I didn't feel like it was me you were hitting."

He heard what she said. She used the word hitting. It would have sounded better if she'd said spanking; hitting sounded meaner, "I know. I think I was mad at the woman I thought you were."

"Look that woman's dead, but I don't think you were beating her either."

He was exasperated! Now she said beating; he hadn't meant it that way. This was all wrong. She was really hurt. He felt like a real piece of shit. He was so sorry. His lips started to quiver, "Hey I'm sorry. I didn't mean it to be that way." Then he recovered a little, "Look you tell me then. Who was I spanking?"

"Another dead woman."

"What, who do you mean, Leah?"

Cathy believed Leah was his problem, "You never talk about her. Tell me about her."

He hesitated, "She was my high school sweetheart. We got married. She got Leukemia, and she died."

"You mean she loved you and she left you."

The waitress came back with their wines, "Are you ready to order?"

Cathy answered, "I'll have the salmon, and a salad."

The waitress asked, "Baked potato?"

"No, I'll just have the fish and a salad."

The waitress looked at Steve, "And you sir?"

"I'll have the same."

The waitress smiled, "It'll only be a minute. The salmon's on special tonight." She left.

Steve looked at Cathy, "The man usually orders for both."

"You're not my man."

"I thought I was. I'd like to be."

She stiffened, "You were, you could be again. Look I'll let you tie me up in ribbons. I'll wear any special clothes you want me to. I'll pretend to be the maid for your friends. I'll even let you chain me up. But I won't be beaten, spanked, or hit, not ever again."

There it was again. Steve squirmed, "I didn't mean..."

"Yes you did. You meant every stinging slap. But if I thought it was me you were spanking I might put up with it, but it wasn't me you beat."

Steve didn't want to get into how things had been with Leah, but Cathy wasn't going to let him off. He studied her face. She was such a little person, physically small and weak, but there was steel there too. He could see that now, "OK, I was mad for a while, mad about losing Leah, mad at her for dying. I guess I thought of you and your husbands. I got mad, and I thought how you left them."

Cathy heard the pain inside the stalwart visage. She reached across the table and took his hand, "I never left them. I couldn't have, because I was never really with them. I married them to steal their money. They were targets, not people. But Steve, I'm not like that anymore. That part of me is dead." She patted his hand, "I..."

The waitress was back with their meals. For the next several minutes they ate in silence. They had another wine, declined dessert, and left.

As they drove back to his house he suggested, "Would you like to stop by the reservoir? I have a blanket. We could sit by the shore, look at the water, maybe talk some more."

She answered, "That would be nice."

A few minutes later and they were by the water, on a blanket, looking at the tiny wavelets ripple in from the lake. There were a few other people about. The sun was weak in the sky. The day had been abnormally warm for that time of year, and it was still quite comfortable.

Steve looked at her, "I don't deserve it, but I'd like to marry you."

That was what she wanted, but she realized he wasn't ready, not yet. "I'm not ready to marry you yet."

"What do I have to do to get you to say yes?"

"We just need more time. I'd like to see more of you at the hospice. I want to become a bigger part of that part of your life."

"You are already."

"No, I mean in other ways. I want to be there in some sort of official capacity, and I have money. You know that. Your lawyer has been investing it for me. I don't know how it's doing, but I'm sure it's good. I want to take my money and put it in the hospice."

He listened at first with a sense of prideful happiness, but it quickly turned to dread. She had no money. When he'd found out about her, he and his lawyer had manipulated her. They'd gotten her money and it was all a part of his estate. Though she didn't know it, she was penniless. He had to come clean, "Cathy."

"What do you think of what I just said?"

"Cathy you have no money."

"Don't be foolish. I'm rich."

"No you're not."

She looked at him through tightened eyes, "What do you mean?"

"I thought you were a swindler. We tricked you. Remember the papers you signed? I got all your money. You have no money. In fact, you don't have anything. Technically you don't even own the dress you have on."

"Nothing, you took all my money?"

"Well no...Actually you gave it to me."

"I'm penniless?"

"Flat broke. You have nothing."

She sat there for a few moments. She stared out at the water, "Broke, nothing. Not even this dress."

He kept his eyes fixed on the water too, "Nothing."

Cathy took off her shoes and socks.

He looked over, "What are you doing?"

She slowly unbuttoned the dress, one button at a time. She started at the hem and worked her way up to her neck. She slipped it off. She slipped out of the camisole. She pulled down her panties.

"Cathy what are you doing?"

"These clothes, they're yours. I'm giving them back." 

He started to get up, "No wait."

Cathy stood up. A cool evening breeze fluttered through the loose fronds of hair that had escaped her pony tail. She was totally naked. There were a few people, not many, a few; they had all watched her undress.

Cathy handed Steve the clothes. All she had on was the locket. "If it's all right, I'll be back at the car. You can take me home. I'll decide what to do from there." She started walking up the grassy knoll to the car.

Steve grabbed her clothes. Pulled the blanket off the grass and ran after her. He tried to cover her with the blanket, but she shrugged it off, "Cathy!"

She walked toward the car. She didn't run she walked steadily and deliberately. The grass felt cool on her feet. There was a slight breeze. She felt it as it blew her hair. She felt the air waft around her denuded vagina. It was the second time that day she'd been barefoot in grass, the second time she'd been naked, and like the last time, she was trying to get away from Steve. 

As she walked she started to think. He's going to pay for this. She wondered what she could do.

They drove back home in silence. Steve had a million things he wanted to say, but her demeanor precluded any attempt at comment. This was the second time in a few short hours he'd been stupid. He didn't have to tell her about her money. He could have lied. He could have simply gotten his lawyer to fix it. He just wanted to be honest, but all he'd done was hurt her. 

She sat stiffly in the passenger seat of the car. The leather felt cool and clammy. It bothered the scratches on her legs, her rear end, and her back. The leather was sticky, and when she moved her ass hurt. The cool air had stimulated her vagina, and she knew there was a damp spot where it touched the seat. Any other time she'd have touched herself down there, but with Steve beside her she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her doing something like that.

They reached Steve's house. Cathy got out of the car and looked through the open window. "I'm going upstairs. Don't follow me." She started to walk away but stopped and looked back, "It's your house. You will let me in won't you?"

He ran ahead and unlocked the front door. He whimpered, "Cathy I..."

She ignored him. She walked by as though he weren't even there.



Too Clever by a Mile Ch. 06



Cathy plip plopped her tiny feet up the porch, to the door, through the foyer and living room, up the steps, and into what had been their bedroom. She sat on the side of the bed. She looked at Leah's picture as it hung on the wall, "You bitch. You're not ruining our lives." She scouted around till she found the place where Steve had left the chains; those awful chains. She picked them up and placed them on the bed. Over on the bureau was that shitty little screwdriver. She went and got it. These were hers too.

Cathy went to work. Going through all the steps she put the collar back on. Next she did the ankle chains. The chain that held the wrist manacles had been cut in half when Steve had used the master lock to fix them behind her back. God she was lucky, the oval fixtures at the ends attached to the wrist cuffs also required the same star shaped screwdriver. With difficulty she managed to get one off. She took it, threw the unneeded piece of chain on the floor, and with great difficulty managed to get the oval thing attached to the still connected piece of chain and then screwed it in around the O-ring of her other wrist. The only difference now and when she'd run out of the house earlier was the length of chain that held her wrists together was only three not six inches long. 

She was, once again, chained up. She left the bedroom and reached the stairs. Instead of childishly plopping down the steps one at a time like she'd done before she very carefully walked down each step; it was tricky and she almost fell once. She wondered what Steve would do if she did fall down his steps and really got hurt. She wondered if he actually honestly even cared. As she started down she saw Steve sitting on the sofa in the living room. 

Steve saw her at the top of the stairs. He was in utter disbelief. What was she doing? Was she completely crazy? He'd originally gotten the chains to humiliate her, break up her poise, and wreck havoc on her self-confidence. Wearing them now only humiliated him. 

Afraid she might fall he moved quickly to the steps and watched her come down. He stood by feeling almost numb, "Cathy why are you doing this? It was only kind of a joke. I didn't mean it to be so mean, honest! Come on I'm sorry."

She just ignored him so he tried again, "Oh Cathy please don't do this. I'm so sorry. Please let me make it up to you. I promise I'll do whatever you want." 

When she got to the last step Steve reached out and tried to put his hands on her shoulders. She evaded his grasp and stepped away. Moving maybe three feet away she looked him in the eye, "If you want her, your slave will be in the gazebo." She spun around, nearly losing her balance, and walked toward the kitchen and the back door, ass wiggling, chains dragging across the living room rug.

He watched her with relief tinged with remorse. At least she wasn't leaving him.

For the next three days, when he wasn't at the hospice, Steve stayed in the house, usually at the bathroom window watching her in the gazebo. As far as he could tell she never came out except to go to the bathroom or to empty the trashcan. He knew she had to do something soon; there wasn't enough food to last much longer. She was driving him crazy. He was afraid to go out and talk to her, afraid of what she might say and afraid he'd screw things up even worse, but he knew this couldn't go on.

Finally Steve called his friend Theresa. He told her some of what happened, how he'd been a fool, how they'd had a fight, and how she'd offered all her money to the hospice. He explained to Theresa how he'd told her she had no money, and how she'd taken up in the gazebo. He didn't tell her about the bondage or the spanking, or that she had chained herself up with nothing on, that all sounded just too sick.Steve was just sick with shame. 

Theresa offered to take her out to lunch; if Steve was too scared maybe she could talk to her. Steve fell over himself with gratitude, but suggested she offer through a note rather than direct contact. The last thing he wanted was Theresa to see her attired the way she was. He felt degraded enough just knowing she was out there all chained up.

On the fifth day Steve found Cathy had left a note on the kitchen counter. It was a grocery list. He immediately went out and bought everything she wanted. He also bought and signed an 'I Love You' card. He added a short note begging her to come in. He promised he'd do anything she wanted if she just stopped being so darned stubborn. Cathy didn't respond. 

The next day Theresa dropped off a sealed envelope. She told Steve it was the note he'd asked for. He promptly took it to the gazebo. Cathy watched as he slid it under the door. He waited while she opened and read it. She wrote something inside and slid it back out. He read it and nodded.

Cathy had agreed to a meeting with Theresa, but only if Theresa picked her up and took her to lunch. She set a firm time and date, and scribbled a p.s. saying that Steve should be out of the house when Theresa came, and that he shouldn't try to follow. 

He wrote back that he'd agree to everything. He also added a lot of X's and O's so she knew how he felt about her. It wasn't just that he loved her, he really did, but he'd been behaving so stupidly, what if it got out that's he'd been doing the things he'd done. He wasn't Albert DeSalvo; he was Steve Murphy. If what he'd been doing ever leaked out it could ruin what he was doing at the hospice. No one would give money to a pervert.

Cathy thought it was time to turn the tables on Theresa. By then she'd figured out who'd been behind the maid thing and the silly outfit. She wondered how Theresa might feel if she had to face her again displayed in the same way. 

The day Theresa came by to pick her up she was dressed in the same little black maid's uniform she'd worn the night Theresa had humiliated her. The only thing she left off was the apron.

Theresa saw the uniform and knew right away what Cathy's intentions were. Theresa had certainly underestimated the woman. She felt like a fool. She also realized she could be wrong about her motives, and that she needed to find a way to fix things. She wasn't completely sure of Cathy's intentions, but there was no time like the present to begin to find out. She smiled as Cathy got in the car, "Hi I thought we'd go to the restaurant down on Fourth and Sullivan Streets. It's a nice place, mostly home made food. You'll like it."

Cathy answered icily, "I've been there. Steve took me."

Theresa replied, "Someplace else then?"

Cathy nodded, "Someplace with Italian."

"There's an Olive Garden?"

"Olive Garden's good."

The women drove to the Olive Garden in silence; one decked out to the nines, the other dressed like a servant. They went in and got seated pretty quickly. Both got the red wine and the afternoon lasagna entree. The food was reliably good. They both got coffee afterward.

While they were drinking their coffee Theresa opened the conversation, "I'm sorry for the way I've been behaving."

Cathy was terse, "You're forgiven."

"I want to talk about Steve."

"I'm here."

"Steve loves you very much."

"I love him too, but he has peculiar ways of showing his affection. I'd say he's just about out of time."

"I know a little about what's been going on with you two, but I'm not here about that."

Cathy looked at her. She wondered how much Steve had told her, "Then what are you here for?"

"Tell me what do you know about Steve and Leah?"

"They were childhood sweethearts. He loved her. He married her. They lived happily ever after until she got cancer and died."

"You don't know anything else."

"Is there anything else?"

"Leah was pregnant when she died. The baby wasn't Steve's and he suspected she was pregnant and he had his doubts as to whether he was the daddy or not." Theresa could tell she had Cathy's attention.

Cathy wasn't about to give Theresa anything to work with. She asked, "What does he know now?"

"He still has his suspicions.I mean he know now she was pregnant, but about the other..."

Cathy was curious. She interrupted, "Does he have any idea who the real father was?"

"I don't think so."

"Do you know?"

"Yes."

"Why don't you tell him?"

Theresa shrugged, "I love Steve, not like you do, but I do love him. Besides what good would it do?"

Cathy had to claw at the woman just a little, "Oh I don't know. He might want to know who had been screwing his childhood sweetheart; you know who had slipped her the meat package and knocked her up."

Theresa looked at the other woman thoughtfully. She'd only then come to fully realize just how badly they'd treated the person who was sitting across the table. Theresa regretted it, "Steve is my best friend. I've known him a long time." She saw the suspicion on Cathy's face. "No nothing like that, never. Ever wonder why I'm not married. I prefer women. I mean I'd do you, but frankly I don't think you're into women."

Cathy's whole sense of perspective had just gone out of kilter, "You're a..."

"Yes, and I have someone new right now. Earlier there was another woman who was very special to me. Our state won't acknowledge same sex marriage. Until they do I'm a Miss."

Cathy had to ask, "Which one are you?"

Theresa, for the first time smiled, "I'm the dike."

"Then you'd be Mr. Somebody."

"I'd be Ms. Somebody."

"Oh, do I know her? Your current significant other I mean."

"No. Would you like to meet her?"

Cathy looked at Theresa with new appreciation, "Yes I think I would."

Theresa was pleased, "I'd like that, but let's get back to Steve."

Cathy answered, "All right."

Theresa asked, "You want to ruin him?"

Cathy wasn't sure what to say. She really hated him right then, but she still loved him too.She wondered, 'did she really want to hurt anybody?' She reflected on the kids at the hospice. She answered, "No."

Theresa watched the other woman. She could see the turmoil in her demeanor, "Look I'm going to give you something." She took out a pen, and on the back of a piece of napkin she wrote down a name, "This is the man."

Cathy took the napkin. She looked at it in disbelief, "Him?"

"Him."

Cathy didn't know what to say. She thought she should hate the woman across from her, she had every reason to, but she just couldn't. She opened up, "Look has Steve told you what's been going on between us?"

"Only that you two had a fight."

Cathy sat there, and for the next forty-five minutes gave Theresa a detailed, a virtual blow by blow account of every single sexual and social event of her and Steve's short relationship, She described their dinners, their casual talks, and she talked about the ribbons, the corset, the chains, the horrible spanking, the backyard, the visit to the reservoir, and her current occupancy of the gazebo.

When Cathy was finished Theresa whistled, "Gosh, you two have been around the world a few times. And you're still together? The whole thing sounds crazy. Honestly, the chains and the stuff in the backyard? That's about as far from the Steve Murphy I know as a person could get"

Cathy frowned, "You think I'm making this up?"

Theresa answered, "No. I just can't get over it. Let me tell you a little more about Steve Murphy."

Cathy sat back. She cupped her hands under her chin, "I'm all ears."

Theresa began, "First there's not a lot to tell. He was a mediocre high school and college student, never showed any ambition for anything. He liked the girls, fooled around a lot in college." She looked at Cathy studiously, "Never dated anyone quite like you. I mean he liked the big girls, big breasts, blond hair, Swedish types, you know.

"I saw Leah's picture. She wasn't a blond."

Theresa answered by putting her hands over her chest, "Big though, and popular, and loud. Leah sort of took Steve over when they were young. Right from the beginning she ran him around. He never got away from her."

Cathy held up the scrap of napkin, "But this?"

"Steve wasn't reliable. He had a wandering eye. He was hard to manage. While they were both at college, her at one school, him at another, it was easier for Leah to look the other way. Once they got married it was different. She couldn't control him any longer." 

Cathy replied thoughtfully, "I haven't seen any of that."

Theresa gave her head a tilt and twisted the palm of her hand, "It's hard to explain. Leah's death crippled him. Then there's you."

Cathy visibly stiffened.

"Look I'm not being cruel. You're not like any girl I've ever seen Steve with. I mean you're not exactly pretty, your personality, your whole demeanor, it doesn't add up. A few years ago Steve wouldn't have given you the time of day. Honestly, now he's tying you up, dressing you up, locking you up and chasing you around on a lawn mower. He called me up the other day and begged me to help him save this relationship. I mean he was begging. It's like he's flipped his lid."

Cathy had a problem with some of the things Theresa had been saying, "I know I'm not pretty, but see here, the things Steve's done; I think I could have stopped any of it anytime. I'm no masochist; I just thought, well it was with Steve. I know that doesn't make any sense, but it wasn't till he spanked me that I got scared. Honestly Theresa, I think Steve and I, I think it could work. People can change." 

Theresa stared at Cathy, "After what he's done and you're still around. That says something. I don't know what. I guess that's what they call true love."

Cathy sat and listened to the other woman's astonishment, "So tell me, what do we do next?"

Theresa sat and stared at Cathy for several seconds, "You really do love him?"

"Yes I really do."

"You know he hasn't done an honest day's work in his life. The only positive thing he's got is the hospice."

"I want to be a part of that."

Talking to Cathy was making Theresa horny. She drifted off a little bit, "Have you ever been with a woman?"

Cathy stiffened, "I like men."

"Just wondered; look let me think this over. You have a phone out in the gazebo?"

"No, but I'll get one."

Theresa smiled, "Let me buy you one today before we go back?" She kept looking at the pretty black maid's uniform, the snow white collar, and short cuffs, the pretty black shoes, the way Cathy's little boobs pushed against the material, her heart shaped mouth. No better not she thought, just the phone.

Together they went to the mall and Theresa bought Cathy a cell phone. They had another coffee at a kiosk. Theresa had an idea, and she explained it. The way she saw it the best thing to do was to give Steve something, one last fetishistic bonanza. Let him name his fantasy and play it out. If he didn't have the maturity to go ahead after that, get it out of his system once and for all then he wasn't worth it and Cathy should cut bait and run. 

Cathy thought it sounded crazy but might help, it certainly couldn't hurt. She'd be taking a risk, but she was sure Steve would never hurt her no matter what the fantasy might be. It would be sort of like using fire to put a fire out.

Theresa offered to buy Cathy a laptop, but Cathy said there was one in the gazebo, and it was Internet ready. In fact she explained that's what had kept her busy the last several days.

At last Theresa dropped Cathy off. There at the front door before Cathy got out Teresa said one more thing. "There's something I'd like you to do for me."

"Yes?"

Theresa leaned over, "Will you kiss me."

Cathy leaned over and the two women kissed.

As Cathy got out of the car Theresa reminded herself half heartedly, no not my type, she drove off.

Cathy felt as little queasy after kissing Theresa. She went back to the gazebo to await events. She didn't have to wait long. Steve was at the door within the hour. She hadn't even gotten out of the maid's uniform yet.

Steve walked out to the gazebo and softly knocked on the door.

Cathy looked over from her seat on the sofa, "Yes?"

"May I come in?"

"It's your gazebo."

"No please."

"Come in if you like."

Steve went in. He looked at her. He really liked the little outfit. All men did, it was a part of a whole fetish fantasy, some beautiful woman all dressed up, a willing little servant, a voluntary slave, a willing pet, the kind of thing all men dreamed about it, "I'm concerned."

Cathy listened. She thought he was reading Theresa's script, "Yes, really?"

"Yes," he said, "If you're my slave I want you my way."

Cathy sat on the sofa and curled her feet under the skirt of her dress, "You don't say."

He watched her shift her feet. He thought she looked extra demure. He wished he'd handled things differently. He knew he was lucky she was still around, "Yes."

Cathy knew she had every reason to hate Steve. She knew she could cut his emotional balls off knowing what she did about Leah's pregnancy. Heck, she could show everybody the chains and destroy him publicly. She just couldn't do it; neither thing. He had all the same weaknesses other men had. She remembered once she'd read a book about male sexuality; it had said all men had two sex lives, one they shared with the world and another they kept hidden, their darkest fantasies. She just couldn't hurt him, "Well what's that?"

"I want..."

"Yes?"

"I..."

"Yes, speak up."

Steve blushed. He turned as red a McIntosh apple, "I..."

"Steve you better get it out."

"I want my own little school girl."

"You want a what?"

He turned even more crimson. Theresa was wrong. She wouldn't go for it. He stammered, sort of mumbled, "I want you to be...my...uh...school girl."

Cathy was both relieved and a little disgusted. The last thing she wanted was to climb back into a lot chains, or pretend to be some stupid harem girl; things she figured most men would want. But a school girl? Wow, stupid Steve. She could do that though. She tried to control her relief and her limited enthusiasm. This wasn't too far from what she'd thought she'd be doing if she got to work at the hospice. A school girl, she was already small, had smallish breasts, and he'd already commented on her innocent childlike appearance. 

She thought yes, this was just the kind of stupid thing Steve might want. Sure it made sense. All men had their dumb fetishes, but Steve's weren't mean, not really. In spite of the chains, his peculiarities were childlike, silly even. She carefully worded her next sentences, "Well Steve, you weren't thinking about a spanked school girl?"

His heart leaped for joy. She was interested, "Oh no!" School girls never get spanked."

"What would a school girl do?"

"She'd wear a uniform."

"Just one uniform?"

"Oh no, my school girl would need several."

"What would she do?"

"She'd go out with her school master."

"School master?"

"No I mean teacher, no I mean daddy."

"Where would they go?"

"Every place. They go to the zoo, the movies, the theater, the opera, out to eat, everywhere."

"Would she be treated well?"

"Oh yes, she'd be treated like a princess. She'd get anything she wanted. She'd get to do whatever she wanted, anything," he hesitated for emphasis, "I mean like anything."

Cathy wanted to protect herself, "Would she ever be punished?"

Steve's answer leaped off his tongue, "Oh no! Never! She be spoiled! She'd get anything she wanted. I mean anything all the time!"

Cathy felt better, but there was something else she had to clear up, "Could she go to the hospice?"

"Oh, of course, the hospice. She'd be at the hospice all the time. She'd see the children. I mean the other children."

Cathy was home free at last. This was going to perfect, just perfect, She went over and knelt down in front of the lap top computer on the small table that rested in front of the sofa, "Gee, maybe we better look at uniforms and such."




Too Clever by a Mile Ch. 06



Steve jumped across the gazebo to the laptop. He knelt down beside her, "Oh Cathy." He tried to put his arm around her shoulder. 

She lifted his arm away, "Let's look for uniforms."

"Oh sure, uniforms." He was so excited. Theresa was brilliant. How did she know? He looked at Cathy. Of course, but what did it matter? He was back in her good graces.

For the next several hours they scanned the Internet looking at school girl clothes. They looked at dozens of different types of Catholic school girl outfits all trimmed out with pretty little peter pan collars, high hemmed jumpers, and saddle shoes. There were dozens of English prep school uniforms with their cute ties and blazers. They perused the many Japanese uniforms; the sailor suits with the middy collars, short pleated skirts, and glossy Mary Jane shoes. There was an array of pretty coed fashions with crisp white V-necked blouses, short skirts, and thick wool knee high stockings. 

They studied shoes; saddle shoes, tennis shoes, Mary Jane's with adorable buckles in the front, and pretty penny loafers with feminine little tassels and bows. There were socks, ankle length, knee high, thigh high, all kinds all colors. 

Steve said he had an account on Pay Pal so it was easy to log in and order everything they needed. After they were finished he grinned, "Want to come back inside?"

She gave him a sweet childish smile, "I'm not dressed."

"You're OK."

Cathy answered very prettily, "I'm dressed as a maid. I can't leave till I get my school girl clothes."

He paled, "That could be another two maybe three days?"

She got up and walked to the gazebo door and opened it, "You can come get me when the first order arrives."

"Cathy!"

She held her hands on the hem of her maid's dress. She preened in that coquettish way women did that always made them look extra feminine, "I'm not a school girl yet."

He slumped a little, then lightened back up, "But in a couple days."

She held the door, "In a couple days."

He walked to the door. He tried to snatch a kiss on the way out. 

She turned her head, "Two days."

Steve gave her his best sad eyed look, "Not even one little kiss?"

She turned her head away.

He pleaded, "Please, just one?"

Eyes and head still averted she leaned a little closer, "On the cheek once."

He kissed her cheek.

She said tersely, "Now go."

He answered, "OK."

As he left the gazebo Cathy went to her cell phone. She wanted to call Theresa.

Steve ran in the house. He ran all the way through the kitchen, into the dining room, and through the living room. He kept raising his fist shouting, "Yes, yes!"

++++++++++++

Two o'clock the afternoon of the second day Steve was on the phone to Federal Express yelling and hollering at anybody who would listen, "What did the plane crash in the Pacific? Was Tom Hanks with my stuff? Where are the things I ordered? You said same day delivery! I need my stuff!"

Thank God for small blessings, most of the things were on his front doorstep later that same afternoon. He ran down to the gazebo, "Cathy! It's here!

She stood with the door cracked, but wouldn't let him in, "You take everything up to my bedroom."

"Your bedroom?"

"It used to be our bedroom, but I'm a school girl now. I'll need my own room."

"But it's our bedroom."

"For a little while I'll be an innocent little school girl, and you'll be an older man," She gave Steve a phony but accusatory look; "You're not a pedophile are you?"

He smiled gleefully. She was already playing, "Yes sweetheart. I mean no. I mean I'm not a pedophile." He was so nervous and excited! "Why don't you take a nice nap, while I take everything up to your room?"

She gave him his first smile in days, "What should I call you? 

"You could call me daddy?"

She put an index finger to her cheek and pretended to think, "No you're much too young to be the daddy of a girl my age. I think I shall call you Mr. Steve."

He grinned happily, "Mr. Steve. I like that. What should I call you?"

She smiled brightly, "Oh I'm just Cathy."

"OK Cathy, I'll get your clothes upstairs."

She curtsied through the opening in the door, "Thank you Mr. Steve."

He ran back in the house. Twenty minutes later he was back at the gazebo, "Everything's in."

She smiled, whisked past him, and ran upstairs. 

For the next two hours he stood in the hall and watched while she dumped all his clothes and all his personals in the hall. He took everything further down the hall to one of the guest rooms. It was a five bedroom house, so his displacement wasn't a major imposition. Once he got his stuff stacked he went downstairs and waited.

About an hour later Cathy was at the top of the stairs, "Oh Mr. Steve."

He went to the stairs.

Cathy was at the top step. Her outfit wasn't that much different, but she sure looked adorable. She had on a white blouse with slightly capped short sleeves, and a pretty peter pan collar. The top button was undone. She had one of those old fashioned circular virgin pins girls used to wear affixed to her collar. Leah's locket dangled sweetly at the center her neck. She had on a tan miniskirt that came to just about mid-thigh. She was wearing brown and white saddle shoes, with white knee high socks. Her hair was in two tight pig tails, and she had her brown wire rimmed glasses on.

Steve was delighted. She was definitely still a very plain looking woman, but she had a vivacity that endeared her to him. She looked young and virginal. He asked, "Would you like to go out?"

She started down the steps. It was a lighthearted sort of a skip step stride she used as she came down, the kind of stride a twelve or thirteen year old might use, "Yes, let's go to the mall."

He was exuberant. They were together again, "Anyplace."

When she reached the bottom step she held out her hand, and accepted his the way a child would accept an adult's hand. They walked out to the car together. 

Steve owned two cars, a Ford Explorer and a smaller Chevrolet Malibu. He was no xenophobe, but his father had been an American car owner all his life, and he'd passed the tradition on to his son. Today he had the Malibu out. He held the door, and helped her in. She slid across the seat demurely. Steve knew he was in trouble. The sight of Cathy this way, so innocently sexy and so warm and sweet was tearing him up. He needed some kind of release, something sexual or he'd go mad.

Cathy swept in the car comfortably. She saw the bulge in his pants. She knew it. She had him now. The next few days would be all hers. When it was over she'd have everything she wanted, and for sure, he'd get all he wanted too.

He got in and looked over, "I love you."

Cathy preened, then looked through the windshield, "To the mall."

He turned and faced forward, "To the mall."

She smiled at him, "And then Theresa's."

"Theresa's?" he said.

"Yes, there's something I have to do there."

He wasn't sure, but whatever she wanted she got, and that was from now on.

They started off. She turned on the radio and found a station that played Country Music, She flipped him a grin, "You might not know it, but I like country twang. I don't go for some of their right wing politics, but I like the music." 

He grinned sheepishly, "Well rock my world, a little country girl. I like it too. Do you have any particular favorites?"

She leaned back; she lifted her arms over her head. Her small firm breasts pressed out against the fabric of her camisole and blouse, "I always liked Alabama the best, but I like Toby Keith's early stuff. You might not agree but I loved the Dixie Chicks, and I don't care what Natalie said about George Bush, I still like her stuff."

He smiled, "We'll leave the politics to the voting booth. I liked the Chicks. I didn't like that she said what she did in another country though. Now Alabama, there's a group. Toby Keith's OK, I prefer Willie Nelson."

"Oh Willie Nelson, I love that man. He's lost his voice but who cares. You're right Natalie should have kept it at home." 

Just then the station kicked in an old George Jones tune. Cathy leaned over and turned it up, "The Old Possum."

He laughed, "Wow you really do know your people."

She started to sing, "I stopped off at the quick stop for some beer and..."

He joined in, "Cigarettes. The old man took my money as he stared at my Corvette."

They both started to laugh. He laughed really loud. She had tears in her eyes. Something good, really good, was going on.

After a few more minutes Steve spoke up again, "You know Cathy you and I have never really talked. I mean talked about the important things like what we dream about, what we want. I mean what we want in our lives."

Cathy didn't answer right away, but then, "I don't think we're there yet. I want to be. I mean I love you, and I want to make a life with you, but I just don't know."

Steve pulled the car to the side of the road and stopped the engine, "We don't have to do this; the school girl thing. If you say so we can ditch the whole thing and start over right now"

Cathy sighed and pushed her hands against the dash board, "Start the car. Let's go to the mall. It's your stupid fantasy, but I have something in mind too."

He gave her a quizzical look, "Really, what?"

She impatiently replied, "Start the car."

He did as he was told.

They got to the mall a few minutes later. She took his right hand in hers the same way she'd done at the house, his palm down with hers up. Since he was a cool ten inches taller they really did look sort of like an older younger something. The way she kept smiling up at him made him feel proud, but a little self-conscious.

They got in the mall and walked down the wide aisle. They checked out the stores. They went into the shoe store and she bought a pair of Mary Jane's. In the fabric store she bought several pieces of silk, a lot of satin, and some kind of sheer cloth Steve didn't recognize. In the clothing store Cathy picked up a couple jumpers and a dark blue blazer. They stopped at the perfume shop; she got Steve some Old Spice and she bought herself a couple new fragrances. 

The main store she targeted was the craft shop. They went in, and Cathy told Steve to sit and hold their bags while she walked around. She walked up and down the aisles until she found the two locations she wanted. First, she hit the make-up section. Steve saw her, frowned and crossed his legs disapprovingly. He didn't like make-up on her but she smiled and went ahead and gathered in several things. Then she skipped over to the paint section where she found the body paint. 

Steve watched; he was a little confused. What was she up to? 

Cathy hauled down two separate sets of body paint. Once she got all her make-up and body paints together she brought them over to Steve, "Here buy me these."

He looked at the stuff, "Cathy you don't need this."

She was ready to play. She placed her hands on her hips and stood there, arms akimbo, "Yes I do."

"What for," He asked?

She smiled broadly like a twelve year old, "That's for me to know and you to find out."

He gave up. He had one last question, "Will I like it?"

She gave him a warm genuine smile, an adult smile, "You'll love it."

He was skeptical, "You sure?"

"I guarantee it."

"Well OK," he didn't want to but he bought the stuff for her anyway. Then he asked, "Any place else?'

She turned and gave him a sweet but quizzical smile, "Theresa's."

He replied noncommittally, "OK."

They went back outside; him loaded down with packages, while she clung to his right arm. They got in the car, loaded it up, and went off toward Theresa's.

On the way he asked, "Why are we going to Theresa's?"

She answered, "I have to talk to her, and I want you there."

He said, "OK, I guess."

When they got to Theresa's she wasn't home. Cathy turned to Steve, "That's all right I'll call her later."

He replied, "You're sure?"

She answered, "I'm sure. Come on. Let's go home."

As they drove back home she decided to tease Steve a little. She nonchalantly let her left hand rest on his upper thigh. While he steered she slowly stroked the inside of his leg. Out of the corner of her eye she saw she was having the desired effect. 

She let her fingers reach up to the fly of his trousers. She pulled it down and unobtrusively let her fingers explore beneath the pleats of his pants. She let her thumb, index finger and tall man slip inside his boxers. Slowly she stroked her thumb over the head of his penis. 

She casually leaned down and with her lips found the head of his rock hard organ. She kissed him softly on the head of his penis. Then she leaned back up, re-zipped his fly, and patted it from the outside with her fingers. She looked out the window, "Pretty day."

He squirmed softly sighed, "Oh Cathy." 

They got back home about forty minutes later. Cathy didn't go straight upstairs. She went in the living and plopped down on the sofa. As Steve walked in she patted the seat beside her. He walked over and sat down in the indicated place.

Once Steve was down Cathy curled around and climbed up on his lap. She didn't say a word. She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaned in and kissed him.

He didn't need a second signal. He pulled his arms around her and they started hugging, cuddling, and kissing in earnest. 

Cathy got his shirt out of his pants and his zipper down in seconds. She found his thing in his underpants, and started to fondle it. 

Steve's boxers made it easy to get at it. Pretty soon his little man was standing tree top tall again, all the way up through the open crease in his drawers. 

Cathy started to work Steve over. She used her mouth and tongue to kiss him in the ear and nibble on his throat. She had her right hand working overtime finger tipping his right ear and the nape of his neck. She sensed and saw the goose bumps. He was looking kind of flushed. 

Cathy used her left hand to fiddle with his penis. With his help she managed to get his pants down around his ankles. His manhood was wide awake and fully erect. She took her fingertips and tickled up and down the shaft. She used the end of her index finger to make little circles around the head. She could tell he was really excited again. She climbed off his lap and got down on her knees on the floor in front of him. 

Steve sat on the sofa and tried to control himself. He figured this was Cathy's show. He'd try to stay as calm and as cool and he could.

Cathy, on her knees at his feet leaned up and softly kissed the end of his penis. It got a little larger. She placed her lips on the tip and gently kissed then sucked on it, just on the tip.

Steve squirmed.

Cathy took her tongue and gently licked up and down the side of his thing's shaft. It smelled a little, but she didn't care. This was something she wanted to do for Steve. She got her lips back on the tip of his cock and started to softly suck some more. She slowly moved further down on his thing. Gradually she took his head in her mouth. She pulled out and away. She did that a couple times, each time she made a little smacking sound with her lips. 

Steve was very excited. He was concerned that he might ejaculate right then and there. It was just too exciting. The more she did the licking and the sucking the more excited he got and the more sensitive his penis became. He wanted her to keep going, but he needed her to stop. "Cathy."

She looked up at him with her big brown eyes. She swallowed him in a little more.

"Cathy come on."

She pressed her lips tightly around the head of his dick and sucked a little harder.

"Cathy you can stop now."

She took her tongue while he was still in her mouth and started swirling around his shaft.

"Cathy, that's all now so stop!"

She tried to get the whole thing in her mouth. She couldn't, but she tried. She sucked and pulled her mouth off of it.

Steve was a goner. He couldn't take any more. He tried to pull Cathy's head away, but she wouldn't budge. He had to let go.

Steve's sperm came out in a massive rush. She had just taken her mouth off when the deluge reached its point of debarkation. It splashed out in great gooey waves. Cathy didn't even try to move. She just sat there with her face in the direct path of his pulsating, squirting flow. 

She felt it; hot, sticky, and wet all her over face, in her hair, and on her blouse. Though she wanted to she refused to budge. She'd heard where some men liked to see their semen all over the woman they loved, and she wanted him to have every possible experience. 

Finally when he was done she said, "Whew that was something." She was covered in his semen.

He lifted her back up on his lap. He was both exultant and appalled. She was covered in his gunk. He loved it, but hoped she didn't feel degraded by it. 

Cathy showed him just how she felt. First she took some and tasted it, "Oh you!" She grimaced, "This smells and tastes like Comet cleanser." Then before Steve could react or comment she sopped up a big wad in her finger and slapped on his face.

"Oh shit, you're right!"

He lifted her up, Come on we need a shower." 

While he carried her upstairs he said, "That was really great Cathy. I know the stuff's rotten, but honestly, if you want to, you can do it again anytime you want."

She cuddled up. She was still slathering his face up with his goo, she imitated a country song, "If you like it, then I love it, and we'll have to do some more of it."

He laughed, "Oh I love you so much!"

They went upstairs, had a great shower together, went to bed, and had a quickie, then they drifted off to sleep all snuggled and cuddled together. 

It was a great start to a new chapter. He was convinced nothing could go wrong. He'd make sure of it.

++++++++++++

More notes and a reminder.

First, like I said earlier, nearly everything happens with Steve and Cathy. 

Second, a commenter from a early chapter mentioned something about a 'pedo alert'. That got me thinking. I want to reassure every reader I'm a perfectly normal married man with several kids, five actually, two of whom are adolescent girls who have no idea I'm writing any of this. This is all just in good fun. No one in any of my stories, except for the villains, ever gets hurt. 

Third, this is the sixth of nine chapters. I assure you there is a happy ending.

Fourth, don't be afraid to leave a comment. I imagine for most writers its a way to escape the boredom of the typical seven to five. It is for me. No one who writes on this web site gets paid. Your feedback is about it. Be sure to vote. I really like fives.



Too Clever by a Mile Ch. 07



Chapter Seven

Cathy's Sacrifice: 

Not everything was perfect. One evening Cathy and Steve were cuddling in the bedroom. It had been a light day, nothing momentous had happened. Cathy was wearing a red two piece baby doll nightie. It looked really cute on her. The shoulders, top, and sleeves were made of the softest billowy pleated pieces of dyed taffeta, and the panties were very much the same. Ruffles rimmed everything; the sleeves, collar, hem of the panties, top and bottom too. It was the ultimate little baby outfit. She looked as sweet as a candied apple. 

Steve asked her, "Have you ever thought about anything like?" He took his hand and rubbed across her rear end.

Cathy had never considered anything having to with her behind as being even remotely like sex. She'd read about it, and she had to admit, out of curiosity she'd looked at some pictures on the Internet. It wasn't that she thought it was just disgusting, she considered it just about the most degrading thing a man could ask a woman to do. 

After she'd seen it she thought a woman had a vagina for sex, and she had her mouth if she wanted to give the man she loved something sweet and extra. But anything anal was just this side of female brutality, almost beastial.

She smiled at Steve, "No never, have you?"

He kept massaging her ass cheeks with his right hand, "Well yes, I guess from time to time."

Cathy paled at the thought, "You'd like to do something like that to me?"

He kissed her cheek, "Not if you don't want to."

"You've thought about it though."

"Well yeah, I guess so."

Cathy looked down and away. She wondered if he understood what he was suggesting, "I will if you want me to."

Steve had thought about it, but only as a wild pipe dream, something he'd seen on the Internet, and thought about, it was something he'd never done and probably never would. But the idea of trying it did have a certain appeal. 

He kissed her again, "You want to try it."

She inwardly cringed, "Well I guess so, sure."

He gently rolled her over on her stomach. He considered the mechanics of the thing, "Maybe you should get on your hands and knees?"

Cathy got on her hands and knees, but buried her head down in the pillows.

Steve got up behind her. He took his hands and rubbed her ass cheeks. He looked at her peach, that opening to her ass. It was very small, very pink, and very pretty. He took his right hand and carefully pushed against it with his index finger. It seemed tight. He whirled around it a little; just on the outside of the cavern. It was real tight.

Cathy cringed into the mattress. She tried to think about something else. They were at the swimming pool; she was taking a bath, something she was sure she'd want to do after this was over.

Steve squeezed in a finger. It was really tight. He bet the pressure on his cock would really feel great. He leaned forward and kissed her little asshole. He gave it a soft lick. For an ass hole it was really clean; all pink and pretty.

This was too much. Underneath Cathy was almost ready to cry. She kept praying to herself, 'No Steve, please no.'

Steve got up real close. He rubbed his penis up and down the crease of her ass. He thought about how soft it looked, how inviting it looked. Then he glanced down at her vagina. It was dry. It looked like the Sahara desert. He considered, if he was getting ready to do something great, she sure wasn't. He leaned back a little and gently smoothed up and down her puss with his fingertips. Yep, dry as a bone. 

Steve leaned back down and took his tongue and kissed her vagina. He let the moisture from his mouth dampen the cleavage between her labial lips. He'd noticed her inner labia were always a little extruded lately, but not now. He touched her ass again with his fingertips. She flinched. 

That settled it for Steve. He got down on his elbows in front of her uplifted vagina and began to kiss and suck on it. She didn't get very wet, but he'd figured out why. He sat up on his knees, and very slowly and very carefully entered her vagina. He moved as slowly as he could. In the doing he felt her start to moisten. He realized this was right. This was the place he was supposed to be. 

She felt his penis at the door of her ass hole. Then she felt him kissing her vagina. He was licking her pussy. She felt him as he slowly penetrated her puss. She pressed back against him. She shivered. Inwardly she said, "Oh what delight, what heavenly loving wonderful delight!" 

They began to move back and forth in unison. Slow at first then a little faster. He was too excited. He came in swift strong pulsating waves. His sperm sloughed down inside her vagina.

Cathy enjoyed the feeling. He'd gotten in farther this way than ever before. There was no peak moment, but it felt wonderful. He'd gone inside her where he was supposed to go.

Once it was over, and it hadn't lasted long. She rolled back over on her back and pulled his head down to her tiny breasts. She wasn't crying, but she was in tears, "I love you Steve I love you so much."

He whispered, "I'm sorry. I just didn't think it was right."

She kissed his neck. She nibbled on his ear, "I'm so in love with you. You're such a good man. I'm the luckiest girl alive."

It was then Steve realized how much she'd hated the thought of what he'd proposed. He was so happy he hadn't taken advantage of her love, of her sweetness. He whispered in her ear, "I love you too sweetheart. Forgive me if I'm a little stupid sometimes."

She snuggled his ear, bit his earlobe, kissed his neck, "You're all right Steve Murphy, You're an all right guy."

He'd never felt so good. In fact he was starting to plump up again. Of what a wonderful night this was going to be.

++++++++++++

For the next several days things couldn't have been better. The Spanish ladies had been on an extended vacation; they were back. Theresa and Cathy had first been talking and then texting back and forth. Whenever Steve appeared to see what she as doing with Theresa Cathy shut down her phone or clammed up. She tried to get Glynnis and Carol to talk on the phone or at least e-mail, but they both had too many excuses. She figured they'd come around when they were ready,

Steve and Cathy followed the same script; some occasional sex but lots of warm interaction. Cathy had her own car; actually it hadn't been, but Steve saw to it her car was signed back of over to her though her insurance was still on his policy. 

Steve started back on a more rigorous schedule at the hospice. They'd lost another child, but two new ones had come in. Steve was looking for children a little less along, but the hospitals and clinics in the area were turning to him more and more with children who were the very sickest. 

There were some theological concerns, but nothing came of it. Steve, not being a religious man only tolerated the clergy, he didn't seek them out. Some clerics, particularly some of the Protestant denominations in the community had been grumbling about not being in 'Murphy's Loop'. 

The state had been in and out, as was customary, and the facility was given the highest possible rating. The hospice had an excellent reputation; he had an excellent reputation, and the doctors who came in and out were among the best. Still, it was a place where children came to die. It was a melancholy situation. Then something very interesting happened.

It was late afternoon, a sunny Tuesday in the spring time. It was a time for new birth and optimism, but there were so many children at the other end, and no matter how hard he tried to hold his end up Steve just couldn't overcome an overwhelming feeling of ennui, a morose sense of foreboding that haunted him day and night. The hospice was his life's work, but it was killing him. There was just too much sadness, too much death. He was looking out the window. Cathy had been all over town doing things that didn't make sense. Sometimes he wondered how she could still be so positive, so full of hope when all around him all he saw was grief. 

He sat at the window thinking about the little boys and little girls, all of whom were much too close to eternity when he saw a car that looked just like Cathy's pull up. Some strange looking person, it looked like a child, got out of the car. He or she skipped up the sidewalk and straight into the front door. He picked up his monitor and called the nurse at the front, "Who was that who just came in?"

The nurse at the desk responded, "Ms. Shoreham, why?"

"What's she doing here?"

The nurse replied, "Don't you know. She's comes here every day around 3:00 p.m."

"You sure it's her?"

"Yes I am. You didn't know?"

Steve was perplexed, "You mean my Cathy?"

"She's the children's entertainment."

"Entertainment?"

The nurse started to explain, "Cathy has been coming in every day dressed up for the children."

"Dressed up?" he turned off the monitor. He had to see what was going on. He got up and left his office for the main corridor. He started down the corridor when he heard some very strange sounds. Someone was somewhere pretending to make little girl giggly sounds. He turned the corner and he saw. There in the playroom were the children who weren't in deepest need. They were sitting in a semicircle around Cathy. She was all dressed up in some kind of costume. She had her back to him so he crept up quietly to find out more.

Cathy was sitting on the floor. In front of her were eleven children all sitting or lying on big futons. She was dressed up in a bright red dress. 

He could make out some big puffy shoulders, a wide white peter pan collar, and she had on a pretty red cape. He hair was done up in red ribbons, his red ribbon. She had on white gloves, "So Little Red Riding Hood said, oh what big eyes you have! And the big bad wolf answered all the better to see you with. And then Little Red Riding Hood said, but what big teeth you have, and the Big Bad Wolf said, all the better to eat you..."

Steve fled the room! He realized why Cathy wanted the make-up, the body paint, and why she'd bought all those things weeks back. This was her way. She wasn't a nurse, she wasn't a doctor, and she couldn't help with the paperwork. Cathy had found a way to be a part of the hospice, and oh what a way! 

He sneaked back to the door and peered in. The story was over. Cathy was crawling around the semi-circle going from child to child. She was kissing, tickling, and cuddling each one. They were all laughing and giggling. He watched as she got up. What was she saying?

Cathy got up, "Now children I want you all to take a little nap. While you're resting up I'll go fetch Sheriff Black Bart. He's been out on the range. You know what the range is." 

Steve watched as the children all nodded their heads up and down. 

Cathy continued. "Well I'll go rustle up the sheriff." She took her hands and arms and made like she was rustling something up, "I'll get Black Bart, and he'll tell you about the cattle rustlers. As she started out the door she said, "Now you guys rest a while now."

As she ran out he could hear the kids laughing. Then crying back, "Come right back Miss Cathy. Yeah and bring Black Bart."

Cathy ran out of the room right into Steve, "Oh, I didn't know you were here."

He laughed, "And I didn't know Back Bart was here either."

She pushed by him, "I have to get ready. Black Bart's costume is a little more complicated than this one."

He asked "Cathy?"

"Yes Steve."

"When did you start doing this, and what gave you the idea?"

She giggled, "I saw on the Internet where they do it at other places. I guess I thought of it when I was looking at the nursing schools. I sort of got tired of the idea of being a nurse. I wanted to do something that was positive, but didn't require two more years of college training." She leaned back against the wall, "I can be a dog, a mouse, a cat, a little girl, a cowboy, Cinderella, anything I want. The children love it, and I get to make them feel a little better." 

Steve leaned against the wall beside her, "You're wonderful. Did you know that?"

She giggled, "No you're wonderful. Look I have to get back." She pointed back in the direction of the children with a white glove. "My public you know."

Steve smiled, "OK I'll leave you alone."

She laughed, "Oh I'm not alone." She scampered down the hall to get ready to be Black Bart.

He turned to go. One of the nurses, an older lady, someone who'd been around since the start was standing near him. She smiled at Steve, "Isn't she wonderful? Since she's been coming the place has changed so much. They get so excited when she comes."

He looked back. She was gone. He guessed she was someplace getting changed, "Yeah she's something."

The nurse was looking to where Cathy had disappeared, "An angel, she's an angel."

Steve had to get out. He was too emotional. He went back to his office and called Theresa. When he got her on the phone he asked, "Do you know what's going on down here."

Theresa responded, "Where you mean at the hospice? You mean about Cathy?"

"You knew?"

"She warned everyone not to tell you. She thought it was best if you found out for yourself."

He was shocked, "Who else knows, and for how long?"

"She started a while back. I've known from the start. Most everyone else has known since she started too. What do you think?"

He spluttered, "What do you think? What do you think I think?"

Theresa replied, "I think we've all been a little stupid."

He gruffly replied, "Yeah." He packed up early and went on home.

Cathy got home a little after 6:00. She was exhausted when she came in the front door. Fortunately she had her costumes all worked out for the week, and she gave herself the morning off to rest up and do other things Steve knew nothing about. She figured the only times she'd go in other than the late afternoon would be if someone was getting too close to home. She'd also been seeing the Methodist pastor, and he'd been a help in other ways.

She got in the front door and saw Steve in the sitting room. The sitting room or television room was a seldom used place in their house. Ever since she'd been there everyone was usually too busy to take the time to just pop off. She wondered what he was doing there. She walked down, "What are you doing in here?"

He sat back on the old love seat and grinned. There in front of him on one the low table was a food spread. She saw several kinds of fruit, a tossed salad, some coleslaw, and a small selection of lunch meat, especially her favorite, corn beef brisket, "What's this?"

"It's for you."

She walked over and sat down on the loveseat. "This is nice Steve."

He reached over and started to make himself a little corned beef sandwich on a roll, "You're nice Cathy."

She sat back and relaxed, "I mean it, this is nice."

He nibbled on his biscuit, "I mean it, you're nice."

She fixed herself a corned beef biscuit and a small salad.

He turned on the television, "I ordered a video."

"Really what?"

"I'm not sure it's something about a girl whose father sends her out west to marry some young guy she doesn't know. It's supposed to be a love story."

Cathy curled up on her portion of the loveseat, "Let's see what it's about."

Together they sat back on the loveseat and watched a movie. She ended up lying down with her head on his lap. He didn't get excited or anything. He just felt really warm and happy. 

Cathy dozed off a little about half way through the movie. As she lay there, her head in his lap, corned beef in her tummy, she sighed. She thought it was good to be home.

++++++++++++

Theresa had been skyping back and forth with Cathy for several days. All she heard was Cathy and Steve, Steve and Cathy, Cathy, Cathy, Cathy, Steve, Steve, Steve; they just didn't get it. 

Theresa knew the truth. Cathy knew nothing. Steve knew nothing. If they knew they wouldn't feel the way they did. No, it would be entirely different. Theresa remembered, she remembered everything. Steve wasn't this great guy Cathy talked about. He was a cad, a bounder, the worst kind of creep. She knew. She knew the truth.

When Leah had been alive Steve had been the wiliest Tom Cat in six states, a real night owl, a sexual prowler. Leah found out, she'd learned what a creep Steve was. That's when she turned to her, to Theresa. Theresa had been there for her; she'd always been there. Cathy had asked her if she had a significant other. Well she did, and she had; in fact she put flowers on her grave every week. No one else did. Steve never did. He was too weak. 

When Leah found out about Steve's wanderings she'd fallen into Theresa's to arms. They made love. Leah became her paramour. She and Leah; it was idyllic. Leah was on the verge of telling the bastard she was going to leave him. She was going to leave him for her. Imagine, Steve's wife dropping him for a lesbian. If Leah hadn't gotten sick it would have happened too! It would have been Leah and Theresa, not Leah and Steve.

But Leah did get sick, and Steve fell into a funk. He collapsed in his own effluvium. Call it guilt, remorse, regret, whatever, Steve's sadness knew no limit, but it wasn't a normal kind of gloom. Steve had felt trapped, snared. His happy go lucky life style had been overturned. He was suddenly swamped with new concerns, new problems, and for the first time he was inundated with real responsibility. 

His problems would have broken him if it hadn't been for her. When he was down, while Leah lay dying, and then afterward, it had been Theresa, good old Theresa who'd come to the rescue. Theresa had saved Leah, and then she'd saved Steve. 

But Leah had told her everything. She told her about the lonely nights, the discovered infidelities, the anger, then Leah had told her about Allen, yes Allen. Good old Glynnis never knew, and still didn't know about her wonderful loving devoted one and only. He hadn't been that wonderful loving one and only after all. 

Theresa wondered how it would all pan out if little Stevie, cutie pie Cathy, and Ms. Perfect Glynnis, and of course that stalwart of fidelity Allen all got the news. What if they all got the news at the same time? What if they did? Well they had it coming! Theresa wasn't sure what to do. In her way she loved Steve. She liked Cathy too. Glynnis was an old friend. They all mattered. They just didn't understand. How would they? It was like there was this circle. Whenever someone drew it they were on the inside, and she was on the outside. Theresa didn't know what to do; she just didn't know what to do.

++++++++++++

Cathy wasn't the best when it came to reading other peoples thoughts, but she hadn't grown up in a compete vacuum. Her father had been one mean son of a bitch. She hated him. Still, she guessed he had his reasons, not that it excused him. 

Cathy was a firm believer in retributive justice; a person does wrong, they confess, we forgive, but they still get punished. In fact, if they confessed, and are really penitent, they should want to be punished. 

Steve was still carrying around a lot of guilt and anger. After talking to Theresa she bet she had some skeletons in her closet too. Then there was Leah, but she wasn't saying anything. Then again, maybe she was. Steve, she knew, was capable of hurting people, but she was convinced it didn't happen without provocation. He beat her poor rear end mercilessly, but she'd figured it out, that hadn't been her ass he was walloping, it had probably been Leah's, and not just for dying. 

She knew a few things. She had Steve's number. She could and certainly would make him a happy man. But then what about Theresa? There was no reason for her to do anything for Theresa. That woman had done things to her that had been unnecessarily mean, maybe a little bit anyway. 




Too Clever by a Mile Ch. 07



She had every justification for getting even, hospice notwithstanding. Did she want to hurt Theresa? Did she want to get even? She would have once, but no not anymore. 

Cathy made up her mind; Theresa was going to be become her best friend. Sure Theresa liked the girls, and she didn't go that way, but so what, friends were friends no matter. Yeah, Theresa would look good dressed up as a Fairy God Mother, or a cow girl. After she got finished with Steve, after she had him had him all married and tucked away, then she'd get Theresa on board. Whatever pain and unhappiness they were carrying, she figured there was enough love to go around to fix just about anything. She knew that because every day she saw those little kids; she saw what love could do.

Cathy looked in the mirror. Steve would be home soon. The person she saw in the mirror wasn't the same one who'd shown up some time back. That artificially sexy woman was long gone. Staring back at her now was the original plain Jane, the first Wallflower; dark brown hair put up in pig tails, no make-up, mousy brown eyes, and itty bitty boobies. She had no idea what Steve saw in her, but she was sure glad he did. 

She got dressed. She got into her little uniform; a simple camisole, white blouse, cotton panties, tan pleated miniskirt, white knee highs, and brown and white saddle shoes. This wasn't one of her school girl uniforms. She'd stopped doing that a while ago; this was just what he liked, and what he liked he got. He'd get home, they'd eat dinner, she'd help clean up, and then they'd talk about their days. She'd talk about her visit with the kids, phone calls she might have made, and anything else she thought was important. Steve would comment a little bit about his day, new kids on the way, and money for the hospice. 

Then there was one other thing; Theresa wanted to take everyone out to eat. She was sure he'd agree.

Steve got home and Cathy was waiting in the foyer, "Steve we got a call from Theresa. She wants to take everyone out to dinner."

"Really what's the special occasion?"

"I don't know, she just said it was something she wanted to do."

He answered, "OK. Can we talk about it later? I've got something else on my mind right now."

++++++++++++

Steve got this wild hair up his ass. He needed to do something with Cathy he'd thought about for a long time. He'd been reading up on tattoos, women being branded, and such. He found out a lot of times those tattoos women wore meant something. 

Once he was out getting some doughnuts and this woman was in line ahead of him. She had on one of those little bra dresses; the kind with the strapped shoulders and low cut at the chest so everyone got a got glimpse of her cleavage. She was a nice looking woman, but she had these tattoos. Later he found out the bar code she'd had tattooed on the back of her neck was probably her pimp's name and phone number. She had what looked like Norse or Germanic runes on the back of her hands and on her chest right under her head across the clavicles. He read where the runes probably told people she was a prostitute. 

Steve wondered what it would be like if he had a woman with tattoos like that. He made up his mind to find out. 

Cathy got back from the hospice a little late one afternoon. Steve was waiting for her in the sitting room. He called out, "Hey Cathy. Get cleaned up and put on a dress I got you. It's upstairs, then come down here."

She wondered what Steve had in mind. She'd had a really good day. All the kids were doing well, and she felt kind of perky. Maybe he had something special in mind. She ran upstairs and into their bedroom. She saw lying on the bed a yellow bra dress and matching yellow cotton panties. She slipped out of her Snow White' costume and tried on the bra dress. It was too short, too tight, and too small even for her tiny breasts. She put it on anyway. She slipped on the panties, a pair of tennis shoes and skipped down the stairs. 

When she got to the sitting room Steve was there, waiting. He gave her a stupid grin and said, "Come on over here and sit down."

She bounced over knowing whatever it was it was probably really dumb, "OK, here I am."

He gave her an evil grin that didn't quite meet evil's muster, "Bend over my knee and pull down your little yellow panties."

This was news, "Steve I thought we weren't into spankings anymore."

"We're not my little muffin. I've got something better."

Little Muffin? Something better? "OK, what have you got?"

He smiled again. He still couldn't look mean, "You're my woman aren't you?"

"This is silly, yes, I'm your woman."

"Can you prove it?"

"I love you that ought to be proof enough."

"I mean what if you're out and somebody asked, who's your man, what could you show him to prove that you were mine?"

She got cute, "A marriage license?"

"No not that. I mean what could you show, like a brand or a tattoo."

Gee, she thought, he really is off the wall today, "I have my locket."

"No I mean what have you got. I mean what have you got that's actually on you?"

This was getting boring, "What's on your mind Steve?"

"Your ass is on my mind."

"My what?"

"Your ass, I want to brand you on your ass."

"Steve."

He smiled again. 

Now she thought that supercilious grin was starting to take on an evil glint. 

"I have in this box," he pointed to a small box sitting beside him on the sofa, "a red hot branding iron ready to be used to mark you as my woman."

"You want to brand me?"

"Right on your little pink ass!"

She didn't believe it, "Show me the brand."

"Only of you agree to let me brand you."

"You show me a branding iron in that box, and I'll let you brand me on my ass."

He smiled, "Promise?"

She didn't for a minute think he actually had anything like that in the box, "I promise."

"You won't ruin everything if I show you?"

"No I won't ruin anything."

"When I open this box you'll see the branding iron and you'll know right away how excruciatingly painful it will be so you'll have to promise not to cry too much or try to run away."

She wondered what really was in the box, "OK Steve I promise not to cry too much, and I won't run away."

"OK, you asked for it." he slowly and deliberately opened the box and pulled out a small paint brush, a tube of high gloss permanent blank ink, and a small piece of plastic. The plastic was apparently where he'd squeeze out the paint.

She wanted to laugh out loud, but choked it back. She gave him her best Joan of Orleans I'm ready to be burned at the stake look. She sniffed as if she were about to cry, "If being branded by you with that red hot iron is the only way I can prove my love for you, then go ahead, do your worst."

He grinned sheepishly, "Lay across my knee little filly."

Cathy obediently lay across his knee. She whimpered, "Please be gentle. My skin is soft and unused to such treatment."

He patted her on her head, "I understand. I've had to do this many times to other young women. I know the fear and trepidation in your heart for it will most certainly change your life forever." He gently ran his hand down the back of her head and the nape of her neck, "Be courageous my pet for this is a magic brand. You won't feel any pain, but it will be permanent. You'll wear my mark on your rear for the rest of your life. So from this day forward whenever any man asks you who you belong to you can pull your panties down and show him my initials and my insignia."

She played along, "Yes mi 'lord." 

Steve squeezed some ink on the plastic tablet, "Are you ready?"

She whimpered, "Yes mi' lord, please be kind. I'm so afraid."

He leaned forward and kissed the back of her neck, "There will be no physical pain my sweet little lamb, only the pain of knowing you will forever be known as the chattel of the great Mr. Steve Murphy." He took the paint brush and started to decorate her right ass cheek. He took his time. He went back and forth from the paint to her cheek several times, "Now I'm going to take my mouth and gently blow it dry. Try not to flinch."

She murmured innocently and sweetly, "No mi' lord. I mean yes mi' lord."

He took the next several minutes and blew the paint dry. As he blew on the wet paint he took his hand and wisped his fingertips up and down her spine giving her chills and shivers with each loving swipe. Once he figured it was completely dry he asked, "Little dove, would you like to see your new brand?"

She giggled, "Oh sir may I?"

Together they got off the sofa and walked over to a mirror that sat above a table. He held her dress up in case the paint wasn't completely dry. With her at a forty-five degree angle, and him facing the mirror they both looked at Steve's handiwork. There on her ass in dark black ink were the initials S. M. encircled by a heart.

Cathy kept up the pretense, "They're beautiful sir."

He smiled at her through the mirror, "I thought it would be fun."

She pressed against him. She put her hand on the inside of his thigh and felt his erection. She asked, "Steve don't you have three initials? Why didn't you put the initial of your middle name?" 

She thought another second. She knew the initial of his middle name; she'd seen it on checks he'd written and on mail they'd received, but his actual name she didn't know, "I don't even know your middle name. What is it?"

He squeezed her a little closer. He kissed the top of head, "My middle name is Andrew. I didn't think it would be appropriate to brand you with S.A.M. It's too close to S&M."

She stood up on tip toes, just high enough to reach his mouth. With her arms on his shoulders she kissed him, "Mr. Murphy I find you absolutely incorrigible."

He asked with pretended incredulity, "Does that mean you won't go to bed with me?"

Cathy kicked off the panties that were dangling around her ankles. She jumped backwards up on the table, "No that means I have to have you right here, right now, this minute, right on the table!"

He unbuckled his belt and let his pants drop to the floor, "If you're the one wearing my initials on your ass, then why am I always the one taking orders?"

With one hand holding his head she kissed him repeatedly on his nose and mouth. She used her other hand to guide his penis in her vagina, "Because you love me." 

He wrapped his arms around her, and they did it right there on the table. Afterward they snuggled on the sitting room sofa. She curled herself around and looked at the inked on initials, "They won't wash off will they?'

He kissed her neck, "They just have to wear off."

She kissed him back, "The ink might wear off, but never the ownership."

He kissed her again. A few minutes later they were bouncing on the sofa.

As they bumped and flailed about, he half opened his eyes. Hers were closed. Her hair was a tangled mess, eye make-up, what little of it there was, was smeared. He glimpsed her tiny nose, perfect eyebrows, adorable crescent ears. She was such an urchin, some would say she wasn't especially pretty, but she was oh so beautiful to him. 

++++++++++++

Theresa had something in mind for Cathy. She saw the tenderness and affection Steve and Cathy exhibited toward one another; plus her devotion to the children was undeniable. Still, Theresa wanted something; she wanted that singular thing that would once and for all prove her sincerity. She talked and skyped back and forth with Cathy constantly. At last, she thought she'd found it. It was something so simple, so forthright that she kicked herself for a fool for not thinking of it sooner. 

A new act had opened at one of the better night clubs in the central city. It involved a hypnotist's gimmick wherein he summoned selected subjects from the audience, placed them in a hypnotic state, and asked them silly questions. It was a dumb little show really. He got mostly women to come on stage where they performed childish tricks and outlandish stunts. It was a little embarrassing, but everybody seemed to have a good time.

Theresa paid the man a visit, and she made some suggestions that might improve his show. At first he declined, but with the appropriate pecuniary incentive she got him to accede. She also got him to agree to find a way to get her target guests on stage. 

++++++++++++

Cathy talked to Steve, "Theresa has made reservations at the Brentwood for next Friday. She wants us and the Peregoys to go with her. What do you think?" 

Steve was reading a periodical magazine and wasn't paying much attention, "If you want to."

She saw he was in another world. Just as good she thought, "Good, I'll tell her it's a date." 

Steve answered, "Mm hm."

A few nights later Cathy, Steve, Allen, Glynnis, and Theresa were all in the audience ready for the show.

The hypnotist started his show with the usual disclaimers plus promises from the audience they all understood it was just in fun, and they wouldn't hold him accountable for any silly embarrassment. This was followed by several comical little skits and a few feats of real hypnotic achievement. These were all accomplished to show the audience the authenticity of his act.

With the preliminaries out of the way the hypnotist discreetly got Theresa's attention, and went into the routine she wanted. He started his spiel with enthusiasm, "Now we're going to try something a little off the wall. To do this I'm going to need some new volunteers from the audience. Could I get three ladies please?"

Everyone looked around the room. Most were pretending to try to see who else might volunteer. They did this to avoid being volunteered by a friend. 

The hypnotist looked out at the audience, "All right I don't see anyone rushing to come up. Tell me should I choose people?"

The audience cheered. There was a general clamor for him to make the selections. He looked out in the crowd. He pointed toward Glynnis, "There! I see a beautiful young lady right there ready to come up."

Everyone laughed. People started to point to Glynnis and encourage her to come up. Finally she reluctantly agreed.

The hypnotist called to the crowd, "Let's give our first volunteer a round of applause." While everyone applauded he added, "To ease the burden on our first participant maybe we can get her to help by choosing someone else to join us on stage?"

Glynnis turned and pointed to another woman. She pointed to an elegantly dressed young woman at her table. The audience cheered, and the elegant young woman was compelled to go on stage. 

Cathy hesitantly went to the stage. She was attired in a beautiful black cocktail dress. It was very low cut with small straps and tiny short sleeves on the outer most extreme of her shoulders. The cut was low and swept broadly down and around to just above her breast line. Her small breasts were tightly sheathed in comfortable demi-cups, but still gave the impression they might spill out of the dress any second. With a little imagination one might have seen the uppermost border of two dainty brown aureoles. 

The dress had a tight but not uncomfortable empire waist, and a loosely cut skirt that drifted softly down to just above her knees. It was an elegant gown that gave the impression of revealing more than it really did. Her dress was companioned by black nylons and black leather four inch heels that shimmered as she walked on stage.

Her hair was short, of course dark brown, parted on the left side and combed across the front of her forehead. The rest of the cut did not extend further than the bottom of her ears. It glistened under the bright lights of the stage. It was lush and thick. Many of the men in the audience saw it and fantasized they were rummaging their fingers through her tight luscious coif. 

Traces of brown make-up, black mascara and dark brown eyes gave her a faintly exotic look. Steve let her wear clear contacts this evening. Nothing distracted from her appearance. On this evening the plain Jane of most days was a ravishingly beautiful woman. Cathy was the epitome of elegance and beauty. More than a few men in the audience looked at their dates with downcast eyes, for all of them fantasized, wishing they could get the mysterious beauty in bed, unfasten her tight little gown, pull it down and kiss those impish little pear shaped delights.

At last a third participant was selected, and the hypnotist was ready to begin his show.

He sat all three ladies in chairs facing the audience, "Now hypnosis only works if the subject is willing. Are you ladies willing?"

All three shook their heads. Cathy thought it could be kind of fun.

The hypnotist held up a white plastic board. On top of the board there was a black spiraling circle. From behind the board he slowly turned a small crank, "I want you to watch the board. Look at the screen. Pay attention to the board." He kept slowly turning the crank, "Concentrate on what you see. Listen to my voice. Don't think of anything. Allow your mind to go blank. Just watch the slowly moving board and let your mind go."

Steve and everyone else in the audience watched as the women seemed to be mesmerized by the spinning wheel on the flat screen.

The hypnotist kept talking. He used a low keyed slow relaxed monotone, "You feel so relaxed. You could just go to sleep. Now close your eyes, and just relax. You're not asleep, but you wish you were." He stopped turning the crank. He looked at the women, "You're all totally relaxed."

He turned back to the audience. The women behind him were sitting in relaxed positions with their eyes closed, "They may or may not be in a state of hypnosis. I'll have to ask them some question to find out." 

He turned back around and asked each one a series of simple questions; mostly things like, what was the last movie they saw, or who their favorite male and female movie stars were, and other simple stuff like favorite Christmas, or favorite color. Then he turned up the gauge just a little. He started asking them things they might not readily remember, like what they had to eat four weeks ago on a Saturday night, and what they had on when they went to their first job interview. 

Satisfied they were really under he turned back to the audience, "They're under. Now we can have some fun, but I want you to realize they won't do anything they wouldn't normally do. You can't tell someone under hypnosis to break the law unless they're ready anyway. They'll just wake up. So knowing that let's have some fun."

Over the next five minutes he put them through their paces. He had them bark like a dog, quack like a duck, dance, do simple exercises like raising their arms over their heads. Things that were funny, but still proved they were under. Then he turned around, "Want to try something a little trickier?"

The audience was all for it.

He turned back around to the women, "You're all three here with someone?"

They all nodded their heads.

"If it's someone you love I want you to go and sit on their laps. If they're just someone you like stand beside them. Are you ready?"

The women all nodded their heads.

"OK, go."

The third young woman went and stood beside the man who'd brought her. Glynnis went and sat on her husband's lap. Cathy sat on Steve's lap.

The hypnotist asked, "Is this just about right?"

The man with the third woman chuckled, "This is only our second date."

Allen said, "She's my wife."

Steve held Cathy, "We're not married, but it's true we do love each other."

The hypnotist looked at Steve, "That's a beautiful woman you've got there. I wouldn't wait too long. You never know. Someone might snatch her up."

Steve smiled at his hypnotized girlfriend, "No I don't think so."

The hypnotist said, "Want to make a little wager I can't get her to choose someone else?"

Steve nodded, "I'm not a betting man."

The hypnotist laughed, "There I thought so. You're not so sure after all."




Too Clever by a Mile Ch. 07



Steve bristled, "I just said I wouldn't bet. Go ahead do your worst."

The hypnotist looked at the audience, "Well what do you think. Should we put their love to the test?"

Everyone applauded.

The hypnotist said, "OK, all three back up in stage. He got the other two up on stage and awakened them, leaving only Cathy still on stage in a trance.

He looked at Cathy and pointed out to the audience and at Steve, "Is he your boyfriend?"

Cathy nodded.

"You love him very much don't you?"

She nodded again.

He got in her face, "OK Cathy go back to sleep."

Her head dropped to her side.

He looked out at the audience, "I'm' going to give Cathy an order. I'm going to tell her to go out and find someone in the audience she thinks would be better than Steve and bring that person up on stage. Let's see if she brings someone up, and if she does, let's see who it is. If she really loves the guy who brought her she won't know what to do. She'll just walk around till we wake her up."

He turned around to Cathy, "I want you to pretend you don't love your boyfriend anymore, you don't even like him. I want you to go out and find a replacement. Can you do that?"

Cathy didn't move.

He said, "OK, go get a replacement."

Cathy got up and walked back out in the audience. She walked up to a big tall strapping fellow with bright yellow hair; she stood in front of him for several seconds. She walked away. Then she walked over to another guy, another big strong looking fellow. She got real close. She looked him in the eye. She walked away from him too. Finally she walked over to Theresa. She stood right in front of the other woman. She smiled at her. Then she walked away. She stood out in the middle of the audience all alone.

The hypnotist called, "Cathy you have to find someone."

Cathy nodded. She started back through the audience. She looked this way and that. She didn't pick anybody. Finally she walked back over to Steve. She sat back down on his lap.

The hypnotist looked at Steve, "I don't know what you've got, but whatever it is I want some of it." He called Cathy back up on stage and reawakened her, "Cathy do you know what we just did?"

She looked at him and shook her head in the negative.

"I told you that you didn't love your boyfriend anymore and you should go out in the audience and pick someone else."

Cathy looked at him in fright. My God she thought I wonder what I did.

The hypnotist asked her, "Do you want know who you picked?"

Cathy nodded her head in the negative. She was too sacred to say anything.

He asked her, "Are you sure you wouldn't like to find out who you picked to replace your boyfriend?"

She shook her head no again.

He looked at the audience. "She doesn't want to know who she picked. Do you think we should show her anyway?"

Cathy was on the edge of her seat.

The audience clapped and laughed loudly. Everyone started shouting, "Yes show her."

The hypnotist put his hand on her shoulder, "Just sit right here."

He looked out at the audience and asked, "Will the man the young lady picked to replace her current boyfriend please come up and claim his prize?"

On cue all the men made as if to get up. Cathy was terrified. Finally all of them sat down, all but one. Steve got up and slowly walked to the stage. He climbed the steps and helped her off her chair, "You picked me."

She started to laugh, then cry, then she giggled, she wrapped her arms around him, leaned up as far as she could but four extra inches and all still could only reach his cheek, so that was where she kissed him.

The hypnotist looked out at the audience, "I think the girl and her boyfriend need a big round of applause don't you?"

Everyone stood up and clapped and cheered. The hypnotist walked over to Cathy and Steve. He put his arm around Cathy and took Steve's hand, "No one, I mean no one's ever done that before. 

You're one hell of a lucky guy."

Steve took Cathy in his arms and kissed her right there in front of the whole audience, "Don't think for a minute I don't know it."

The hypnotist looked at everyone, "Well that wraps up our show for tonight. Make sure you use your designated driver. Tell your friends we're here every night. Have a safe trip."

Steve and Cathy walked off the stage to rejoin their friends. They were more in love now than even before, if that was possible.

Theresa looked at the happy couple. She smiled and teased. Inwardly she vowed, somehow she was going to make this end.

++++++++++++

Life for Steve and Cathy got even better after the hypnotist's performance. If Steve ever wanted proof of Cathy's sincerity nothing could have done it better that evening at the night club. 

Cathy, having been hypnotized had no recollection of what happened, but Steve, Glynnis and Carol didn't hesitate to fill her in. 

In hindsight the night club for Cathy was the Godsend she'd needed. She and Carol had become friends even beforehand, but afterward it was Glynnis who called. 

Cathy still kept up a lively discourse with Theresa, usually about their past relationships, their childhoods, and prior professional and social lives. Theresa had experienced a lively past. Her college days and the discovery of her lesbianism were fascinating. Cathy found it was easy to open up and share with Theresa almost everything about her own past, her marriages, her childhood, and the fun she'd had in college. 

Yes, talking to Theresa was like a trip down memory lane; it was fun and fun in that way one had when talking about things that no longer mattered, things that had no more relevance, but was still exhilarating. She imagined it might have been kind of like the middle aged man whose athletic exploits grew more daring with each passing year. Their stories, hers and Theresa's probably were liberally spliced with exaggeration, Cathy knew hers had been. 

It was Glynnis and Carol who gradually took over most of her non-Steve and non-hospice time. The three of them found repeated opportunities to share lunch, join in on electronic conference contacts, interactive e-mails, and just a milieu of incidental communications. One thing led to another and pretty soon Carol and Glynnis were opening up about the hospice. She was glad they did, because she had lots of ideas. 

One of Cathy's most robust harebrained ideas had germinated as a result of her conversations with the Methodist minister. He'd suggested she consider some kind of nondenominational coalescence around the hospice. He explained all the better churches had missionary programs. What was to keep them from diverting some of their resources to a home grown service organization like the hospice? 

Backed by the new confidence Glynnis and Carol had in her Cathy broached the subject to her new friends one day at lunch. She suggested they start to visit the local churches and see what the effort might bring. Glynnis had warned her that Steve, though once an avid church goer might stand in the way. Carol also warned that Theresa's lesbianism could be a problem. But it was Steve's story that was the most disturbing for that was when Cathy gleaned some tragic and most unwelcome discoveries about Leah and Steve. 

Glynnis filled her in completely about Steve's philandering, and about Leah's retaliatory exploits. As Cathy listened it sounded like something right out of some soft core pornographic romance. 

That wasn't the worst though. Cathy had never been much of a church goer, and reading the Bible, Old and New Testaments never had much appeal. Sure she knew about Moses, Noah, and such, and she had a passing acquaintance with Peter and Paul, but a real examination of the Bible was as foreign to her as the landscape of the Moon.

Glynnis revealed one piece of scripture that turned out to be especially unpleasant. It seemed when Jesus was being assessed by the Roman Governor Pontius Pilate, some Jewish spectator made a stupid comment about how they, the Jews, would take full responsibility for Jesus's death. Glynnis explained the whole passage was like just one sentence long, and it was only found in one place in the whole Bible. But she explained Christians, not all Christians but quite few, had been using it for centuries to beat up on the Jews.

Cathy didn't get it at first. She remembered asking Glynnis, "So a few Jewish people were blamed for one man's death two thousand years ago, so what?"

Glynnis explained it in more detail, she'd said, "Look Cathy all the laws and all the stuff that happened in Europe and in other places can be traced to one line in the Bible. Think about what happened in the 1930's and 1940's. Preachers all over Europe used one line, one single line, to justify the worst atrocity in modern times." 

Cathy had been sympathetic, "OK, I'm sorry, but I didn't do it, and what does that have to do with anything here and now anyway?"

That's when Glynnis opened her eyes, "Cathy Leah was a Jewish girl. While she was dying Steve, went to his church for help and support. The pastor there, not the same one who's there now, told Steve a lot of terrible things."

"Like what," Cathy remembered asking. 

Carol had heard this story first so she told it, "The minister told Steve Leah's leukemia was God's punishment of Steve for marrying a Jewess."

Cathy remembered her own incredulity, "No!"

Worse explained Carol, "After Leah died the same minister performed the funeral. At the grave he specifically referred to Leah as one of the 'Christ Killers', and her death should be a warning to all real Christians."

Cathy had been dumbstruck. She remembered replying, "No Carol that can't be true; no one would ever say that."

Glynnis changed the subject a little and had asked Cathy something else. She pointed to the locket she had on, "Has anyone ever said anything to you about that?'

Cathy had asked, "About what?"

"The Chai around your neck."

"The what," she asked?

That locket Steve gave you. Haven't you ever noticed the etching? It's a Chai, an ancient symbol worn by Jewish women, it means life or something."

Cathy recalled reaching for the locket. It was then she remembered the symbol, who it was associated with, and what it meant. She remembered saying, "No I...but I can't believe a minister, or anybody would say the thing you said."

Carol looked Cathy squarely in the eye and answered, "No dear, that's a true story." 

Glynnis nodded her head, "We all heard it."

For Cathy that explained so much. When she'd first heard it she'd thought Leah was an odd name, but now she remembered Leah had been somebody's sister or something in the Old Testament. Then there was the locket. The funny shaped talisman. Why not a heart? No it was that other funny thing, for Jews she remembered. It was a Jewish amulet, and that was why Theresa immediately recognized it. Steve hated God. He hated church people. He especially hated preachers. It made sense. She remembered thinking she'd hate anyone who'd said something like that about someone she loved, and then have that someone have the misfortune to die of anything as horrid as leukemia. Oh poor Steve. Oh poor Leah! Had the preacher said the same thing to her? What a travesty!

Cathy remembered her decision. "We have to go to all the Christian churches. We have to invite them to join in supporting our hospice, but we must have some kind of test, a litmus test. Any church that wants to help us can, but they have to renounce the part in the Bible about the Jews and Jesus."

Carol asked, "What if they don't"

Glynnis answered that, "Then they won't be Christians anyway, and we won't want their money."

Cathy had asked, "What about the synagogues?"

Carol answered, "Are you kidding? First, Jews give to charities like there's no tomorrow anyway. If we made it known we'd put that kind of condition on church giving the synagogues will be knocking each down to help."

Cathy remembered smiling and leaning back, "Then we can go to the houses of worship, all the houses of worship. We can tell them our dream and our concern. After that we'll leave it In God's hands."

Glynnis asked, "Christian churches and Jewish synagogues?"

Cathy asked, "Is there a difference? It's the same God isn't it?"

Glynnis commented, "Who knows God? I only know she sure works in mysterious ways."

All three laughed out loud.

Cathy remembered saying, "Yeah, She sure is something."

They all laughed some more.



Too Clever by a Mile Ch. 08



Theresa had been skyping back and forth with Cathy for several days. All she heard was Cathy and Steve, Steve and Cathy, Cathy, Cathy, Cathy, Steve, Steve, Steve; they just didn't get it. 

Theresa knew the truth. Cathy knew nothing. Steve knew nothing. If they knew they wouldn't feel the way they did. No, it would be entirely different. 

Theresa remembered, she remembered everything. Steve wasn't this great guy Cathy talked about. He was a cad, a bounder, the worst kind of creep. She knew. She knew the truth.

When Leah had been alive Steve had been the wiliest Tom Cat in six states, a real night owl, a sexual prowler. Leah found out, she'd learned what a creep Steve was. That's when she turned to her, to Theresa. Theresa had been there for her; she'd always been there. Cathy had asked her if she had a significant other. Well she did, and she had; in fact she put flowers on her grave every week. No one else did. Steve never did. He was too weak. 

When Leah found out about Steve's wanderings she'd fallen into Theresa's to arms. They made love. Leah became her paramour. She and Leah; it was idyllic. Leah was on the verge of telling the bastard she was going to leave him. She was going to leave him for her. Imagine, Steve's wife dropping him for a lesbian. If Leah hadn't gotten sick it would have happened too! It would have been Leah and Theresa, not Leah and Steve.

But Leah did get sick, and Steve fell into a funk. He collapsed in his own effluvium. Call it guilt, remorse, regret, whatever, Steve's sadness knew no limit, but it wasn't a normal kind of gloom. Steve had felt trapped, snared. His happy go lucky life style had been overturned. He was suddenly swamped with new concerns, new problems, and for the first time he was inundated with real responsibility. 

His problems would have broken him if it hadn't been for her. When he was down, while Leah lay dying, and then afterward, it had been Theresa, good old Theresa who'd come to the rescue. Theresa had saved Leah, and then she'd saved Steve. 

But Leah had told her everything. She told her about the lonely nights, the discovered infidelities, the anger, then Leah had told her about Allen, yes Allen. Good old Glynnis never knew, and still didn't know about her wonderful loving devoted one and only. He hadn't been that wonderful loving one and only after all. 

Theresa wondered how it would all pan out if little Stevie, cutie pie Cathy, and Ms. Perfect Glynnis, and of course that stalwart of fidelity Allen all got the news. What if they all got the news at the same time? What if they did? Well they had it coming! Theresa wasn't sure what to do. In her way she loved Steve. She liked Cathy too. Glynnis was an old friend. They all mattered. They just didn't understand. How would they? It was like there was this circle. Whenever someone drew it they were on the inside, and she was on the outside. Theresa didn't know what to do; she just didn't know what to do.

++++++++++++

Cathy wasn't the best when it came to reading other peoples thoughts, but she hadn't grown up in a compete vacuum. Her father had been one mean son of a bitch. She hated him. Still, she guessed he had his reasons, not that it excused him. 

Cathy was a firm believer in retributive justice; a person does wrong, they confess, we forgive, but they still get punished. In fact, if they confessed, and are really penitent, they should want to be punished. 

Steve was still carrying around a lot of guilt and anger. After talking to Theresa she bet she had some skeletons in her closet too. Then there was Leah, but she wasn't saying anything. Then again, maybe she was. Steve, she knew, was capable of hurting people, but she was convinced it didn't happen without provocation. He beat her poor rear end mercilessly, but she'd figured it out, that hadn't been her ass he was walloping, it had probably been Leah's, and not just for dying. 

She knew a few things. She had Steve's number. She could and certainly would make him a happy man. But then what about Theresa? There was no reason for her to do anything for Theresa. That woman had done things to her that had been unnecessarily mean, maybe a little bit anyway. 

She had every justification for getting even, hospice notwithstanding. Did she want to hurt Theresa? Did she want to get even? She would have once, but no not anymore. 

Cathy made up her mind; Theresa was going to be become her best friend. Sure Theresa liked the girls, and she didn't go that way, but so what, friends were friends no matter. Yeah, Theresa would look good dressed up as a Fairy God Mother, or a cow girl. After she got finished with Steve, after she had him had him all married and tucked away, then she'd get Theresa on board. Whatever pain and unhappiness they were carrying, she figured there was enough love to go around to fix just about anything. She knew that because every day she saw those little kids; she saw what love could do.

Cathy looked in the mirror. Steve would be home soon. The person she saw in the mirror wasn't the same one who'd shown up some time back. That artificially sexy woman was long gone. Staring back at her now was the original plain Jane, the first Wallflower; dark brown hair put up in pig tails, no make-up, mousy brown eyes, and itty bitty boobies. She had no idea what Steve saw in her, but she was sure glad he did. 

She got dressed. She got into her little uniform; a simple camisole, white blouse, cotton panties, tan pleated miniskirt, white knee highs, and brown and white saddle shoes. This wasn't one of her school girl uniforms. She'd stopped doing that a while ago; this was just what he liked, and what he liked he got. He'd get home, they'd eat dinner, she'd help clean up, and then they'd talk about their days. She'd talk about her visit with the kids, phone calls she might have made, and anything else she thought was important. Steve would comment a little bit about his day, new kids on the way, and money for the hospice. 

Then there was one other thing; Theresa wanted to take everyone out to eat. She was sure he'd agree.

Steve got home and Cathy was waiting in the foyer, "Steve we got a call from Theresa. She wants to take everyone out to dinner."

"Really what's the special occasion?"

"I don't know, she just said it was something she wanted to do."

He answered, "OK. Can we talk about it later? I've got something else on my mind right now."

++++++++++++

Steve got this wild hair up his ass. He needed to do something with Cathy he'd thought about for a long time. He'd been reading up on tattoos, women being branded, and such. He found out a lot of times those tattoos women wore meant something. 

Once he was out getting some doughnuts and this woman was in line ahead of him. She had on one of those little bra dresses; the kind with the strapped shoulders and low cut at the chest so everyone got a got glimpse of her cleavage. She was a nice looking woman, but she had these tattoos. Later he found out the bar code she'd had tattooed on the back of her neck was probably her pimp's name and phone number. She had what looked like Norse or Germanic runes on the back of her hands and on her chest right under her head across the clavicles. He read where the runes probably told people she was a prostitute. 

Steve wondered what it would be like if he had a woman with tattoos like that. He made up his mind to find out. 

Cathy got back from the hospice a little late one afternoon. Steve was waiting for her in the sitting room. He called out, "Hey Cathy. Get cleaned up and put on a dress I got you. It's upstairs, then come down here."

She wondered what Steve had in mind. She'd had a really good day. All the kids were doing well, and she felt kind of perky. Maybe he had something special in mind. She ran upstairs and into their bedroom. She saw lying on the bed a yellow bra dress and matching yellow cotton panties. She slipped out of her Snow White' costume and tried on the bra dress. It was too short, too tight, and too small even for her tiny breasts. She put it on anyway. She slipped on the panties, a pair of tennis shoes and skipped down the stairs. 

When she got to the sitting room Steve was there, waiting. He gave her a stupid grin and said, "Come on over here and sit down."

She bounced over knowing whatever it was it was probably really dumb, "OK, here I am."

He gave her an evil grin that didn't quite meet evil's muster, "Bend over my knee and pull down your little yellow panties."

This was news, "Steve I thought we weren't into spankings anymore."

"We're not my little muffin. I've got something better."

Little Muffin? Something better? "OK, what have you got?"

He smiled again. He still couldn't look mean, "You're my woman aren't you?"

"This is silly, yes, I'm your woman."

"Can you prove it?"

"I love you that ought to be proof enough."

"I mean what if you're out and somebody asked, who's your man, what could you show him to prove that you were mine?"

She got cute, "A marriage license?"

"No not that. I mean what could you show, like a brand or a tattoo."

Gee, she thought, he really is off the wall today, "I have my locket."

"No I mean what have you got. I mean what have you got that's actually on you?"

This was getting boring, "What's on your mind Steve?"

"Your ass is on my mind."

"My what?"

"Your ass, I want to brand you on your ass."

"Steve."

He smiled again. 

Now she thought that supercilious grin was starting to take on an evil glint. 

"I have in this box," he pointed to a small box sitting beside him on the sofa, "a red hot branding iron ready to be used to mark you as my woman."

"You want to brand me?"

"Right on your little pink ass!"

She didn't believe it, "Show me the brand."

"Only of you agree to let me brand you."

"You show me a branding iron in that box, and I'll let you brand me on my ass."

He smiled, "Promise?"

She didn't for a minute think he actually had anything like that in the box, "I promise."

"You won't ruin everything if I show you?"

"No I won't ruin anything."

"When I open this box you'll see the branding iron and you'll know right away how excruciatingly painful it will be so you'll have to promise not to cry too much or try to run away."

She wondered what really was in the box, "OK 

Steve I promise not to cry too much, and I won't run away."

"OK, you asked for it." he slowly and deliberately opened the box and pulled out a small paint brush, a tube of high gloss permanent blank ink, and a small piece of plastic. The plastic was apparently where he'd squeeze out the paint.

She wanted to laugh out loud, but choked it back. She gave him her best Joan of Orleans I'm ready to be burned at the stake look. She sniffed as if she were about to cry, "If being branded by you with that red hot iron is the only way I can prove my love for you, then go ahead, do your worst."

He grinned sheepishly, "Lay across my knee little filly."

Cathy obediently lay across his knee. She whimpered, "Please be gentle. My skin is soft and unused to such treatment."

He patted her on her head, "I understand. I've had to do this many times to other young women. I know the fear and trepidation in your heart for it will most certainly change your life forever." He gently ran his hand down the back of her head and the nape of her neck, "Be courageous my pet for this is a magic brand. You won't feel any pain, but it will be permanent. You'll wear my mark on your rear for the rest of your life. So from this day forward whenever any man asks you who you belong to you can pull your panties down and show him my initials and my insignia."

She played along, "Yes mi 'lord." 

Steve squeezed some ink on the plastic tablet, "Are you ready?"

She whimpered, "Yes mi' lord, please be kind. I'm so afraid."

He leaned forward and kissed the back of her neck, "There will be no physical pain my sweet little lamb, only the pain of knowing you will forever be known as the chattel of the great Mr. Steve Murphy." He took the paint brush and started to decorate her right ass cheek. He took his time. He went back and forth from the paint to her cheek several times, "Now I'm going to take my mouth and gently blow it dry. Try not to flinch."

She murmured innocently and sweetly, "No mi' lord. I mean yes mi' lord."

He took the next several minutes and blew the paint dry. As he blew on the wet paint he took his hand and wisped his fingertips up and down her spine giving her chills and shivers with each loving swipe. Once he figured it was completely dry he asked, "Little dove, would you like to see your new brand?"

She giggled, "Oh sir may I?"

Together they got off the sofa and walked over to a mirror that sat above a table. He held her dress up in case the paint wasn't completely dry. With her at a forty-five degree angle, and him facing the mirror they both looked at Steve's handiwork. There on her ass in dark black ink were the initials S. M. encircled by a heart.

Cathy kept up the pretense, "They're beautiful sir."

He smiled at her through the mirror, "I thought it would be fun."

She pressed against him. She put her hand on the inside of his thigh and felt his erection. She asked, "Steve don't you have three initials? Why didn't you put the initial of your middle name?" 

She thought another second. She knew the initial of his middle name; she'd seen it on checks he'd written and on mail they'd received, but his actual name she didn't know, "I don't even know your middle name. What is it?"

He squeezed her a little closer. He kissed the top of head, "My middle name is Andrew. I didn't think it would be appropriate to brand you with S.A.M. It's too close to S&M."

She stood up on tip toes, just high enough to reach his mouth. With her arms on his shoulders she kissed him, "Mr. Murphy I find you absolutely incorrigible."

He asked with pretended incredulity, "Does that mean you won't go to bed with me?"

Cathy kicked off the panties that were dangling around her ankles. She jumped backwards up on the table, "No that means I have to have you right here, right now, this minute, right on the table!"

He unbuckled his belt and let his pants drop to the floor, "If you're the one wearing my initials on your ass, then why am I always the one taking orders?"

With one hand holding his head she kissed him repeatedly on his nose and mouth. She used her other hand to guide his penis in her vagina, "Because you love me." 

He wrapped his arms around her, and they did it right there on the table. Afterward they snuggled on the sitting room sofa. She curled herself around and looked at the inked on initials, "They won't wash off will they?'

He kissed her neck, "They just have to wear off."

She kissed him back, "The ink might wear off, but never the ownership."

He kissed her again. A few minutes later they were bouncing on the sofa.

As they bumped and flailed about, he half opened his eyes. Hers were closed. Her hair was a tangled mess, eye make-up, what little of it there was, was smeared. He glimpsed her tiny nose, perfect eyebrows, adorable crescent ears. She was such an urchin, some would say she wasn't especially pretty, but she was oh so beautiful to him. 

++++++++++++

Theresa had something in mind for Cathy. She saw the tenderness and affection Steve and Cathy exhibited toward one another; plus her devotion to the children was undeniable. Still, Theresa wanted something; she wanted that singular thing that would once and for all prove her sincerity. She talked and skyped back and forth with Cathy constantly. At last, she thought she'd found it. It was something so simple, so forthright that she kicked herself for a fool for not thinking of it sooner. 

A new act had opened at one of the better night clubs in the central city. It involved a hypnotist's gimmick wherein he summoned selected subjects from the audience, placed them in a hypnotic state, and asked them silly questions. It was a dumb little show really. He got mostly women to come on stage where they performed childish tricks and outlandish stunts. It was a little embarrassing, but everybody seemed to have a good time.

Theresa paid the man a visit, and she made some suggestions that might improve his show. At first he declined, but with the appropriate pecuniary incentive she got him to accede. She also got him to agree to find a way to get her target guests on stage. 

++++++++++++

Cathy talked to Steve, "Theresa has made reservations at the Brentwood for next Friday. She wants us and the Peregoy's to go with her. What do you think?" 

Steve was reading a periodical magazine and wasn't paying much attention, "If you want to."

She saw he was in another world. Just as good she thought, "Good, I'll tell her it's a date." 

Steve answered, "Mm hm."

A few nights later Cathy, Steve, Allen, Glynnis, and Theresa were all in the audience ready for the show.

The hypnotist started his show with the usual disclaimers plus promises from the audience they all understood it was just in fun, and they wouldn't hold him accountable for any silly embarrassment. This was followed by several comical little skits and a few feats of real hypnotic achievement. These were all accomplished to show the audience the authenticity of his act.

With the preliminaries out of the way the hypnotist discreetly got Theresa's attention, and went into the routine she wanted. He started his spiel with enthusiasm, "Now we're going to try something a little off the wall. To do this I'm going to need some new volunteers from the audience. Could I get three ladies please?"

Everyone looked around the room. Most were pretending to try to see who else might volunteer. They did this to avoid being volunteered by a friend. 

The hypnotist looked out at the audience, "All right I don't see anyone rushing to come up. Tell me should I choose people?"

The audience cheered. There was a general clamor for him to make the selections. He looked out in the crowd. He pointed toward Glynnis, "There! I see a beautiful young lady right there ready to come up."

Everyone laughed. People started to point to Glynnis and encourage her to come up. Finally she reluctantly agreed.

The hypnotist called to the crowd, "Let's give our first volunteer a round of applause." While everyone applauded he added, "To ease the burden on our first participant maybe we can get her to help by choosing someone else to join us on stage?"

Glynnis turned and pointed to another woman. She pointed to an elegantly dressed young woman at her table. The audience cheered, and the elegant young woman was compelled to go on stage. 

Cathy hesitantly went to the stage. She was attired in a beautiful black cocktail dress. It was very low cut with small straps and tiny short sleeves on the outer most extreme of her shoulders. The cut was low and swept broadly down and around to just above her breast line. Her small breasts were tightly sheathed in comfortable demi-cups, but still gave the impression they might spill out of the dress any second. With a little imagination one might have seen the uppermost border of two dainty brown aureoles. 

The dress had a tight but not uncomfortable empire waist, and a loosely cut skirt that drifted softly down to just above her knees. It was an elegant gown that gave the impression of revealing more than it really did. Her dress was companioned by black nylons and black leather four inch heels that shimmered as she walked on stage.

Her hair was short, of course dark brown, parted on the left side and combed across the front of her forehead. The rest of the cut did not extend further than the bottom of her ears. It glistened under the bright lights of the stage. It was lush and thick. Many of the men in the audience saw it and fantasized they were rummaging their fingers through her tight luscious coif. 




Too Clever by a Mile Ch. 08



Traces of brown make-up, black mascara and dark brown eyes gave her a faintly exotic look. Steve let her wear clear contacts this evening. Nothing distracted from her appearance. On this evening the plain Jane of most days was a ravishingly beautiful woman. Cathy was the epitome of elegance and beauty. More than a few men in the audience looked at their dates with downcast eyes, for all of them fantasized, wishing they could get the mysterious beauty in bed, unfasten her tight little gown, pull it down and kiss those impish little pear shaped delights.

At last a third participant was selected, and the hypnotist was ready to begin his show.

He sat all three ladies in chairs facing the audience, "Now hypnosis only works if the subject is willing. Are you ladies willing?"

All three shook their heads. Cathy thought it could be kind of fun.

The hypnotist held up a white plastic board. On top of the board there was a black spiraling circle. From behind the board he slowly turned a small crank, "I want you to watch the board. Look at the screen. Pay attention to the board." He kept slowly turning the crank, "Concentrate on what you see. Listen to my voice. Don't think of anything. Allow your mind to go blank. Just watch the slowly moving board and let your mind go."

Steve and everyone else in the audience watched as the women seemed to be mesmerized by the spinning wheel on the flat screen.

The hypnotist kept talking. He used a low keyed slow relaxed monotone, "You feel so relaxed. You could just go to sleep. Now close your eyes, and just relax. You're not asleep, but you wish you were." He stopped turning the crank. He looked at the women, "You're all totally relaxed."

He turned back to the audience. The women behind him were sitting in relaxed positions with their eyes closed, "They may or may not be in a state of hypnosis. I'll have to ask them some question to find out." 

He turned back around and asked each one a series of simple questions; mostly things like, what was the last movie they saw, or who their favorite male and female movie stars were, and other simple stuff like favorite Christmas, or favorite color. Then he turned up the gauge just a little. He started asking them things they might not readily remember, like what they had to eat four weeks ago on a Saturday night, and what they had on when they went to their first job interview. 

Satisfied they were really under he turned back to the audience, "They're under. Now we can have some fun, but I want you to realize they won't do anything they wouldn't normally do. You can't tell someone under hypnosis to break the law unless they're ready anyway. They'll just wake up. So knowing that let's have some fun."

Over the next five minutes he put them through their paces. He had them bark like a dog, quack like a duck, dance, do simple exercises like raising their arms over their heads. Things that were funny, but still proved they were under.

Then he turned around, "Want to try something a little trickier?"

The audience was all for it.

He turned back around to the women, "You're all three here with someone?"

They all nodded their heads.

"If it's someone you love I want you to go and sit on their laps. If they're just someone you like stand beside them. Are you ready?"

The women all nodded their heads.

"OK, go."

The third young woman went and stood beside the man who'd brought her. Glynnis went and sat on her husband's lap. Cathy sat on Steve's lap.

The hypnotist asked, "Is this just about right?"

The man with the third woman chuckled, "This is only our second date."

Allen said, "She's my wife."

Steve held Cathy, "We're not married, but it's true we do love each other."

The hypnotist looked at Steve, "That's a beautiful woman you've got there. I wouldn't wait too long. You never know. Someone might snatch her up."

Steve smiled at his hypnotized girlfriend, "No I don't think so."

The hypnotist said, "Want to make a little wager I can't get her to choose someone else?"

Steve nodded, "I'm not a betting man."

The hypnotist laughed, "There I thought so. You're not so sure after all."

Steve bristled, "I just said I wouldn't bet. Go ahead do your worst."

The hypnotist looked at the audience, "Well what do you think. Should we put their love to the test?"

Everyone applauded.

The hypnotist said, "OK, all three back up in stage. He got the other two up on stage and awakened them, leaving only Cathy still on stage in a trance.

He looked at Cathy and pointed out to the audience and at Steve, "Is he your boyfriend?"

Cathy nodded.

"You love him very much don't you?"

She nodded again.

He got in her face, "OK Cathy go back to sleep."

Her head dropped to her side.

He looked out at the audience, "I'm' going to give Cathy an order. I'm going to tell her to go out and find someone in the audience she thinks would be better than Steve and bring that person up on stage. Let's see if she brings someone up, and if she does, let's see who it is. If she really loves the guy who brought her she won't know what to do. She'll just walk around till we wake her up."

He turned around to Cathy, "I want you to pretend you don't love your boyfriend anymore, you don't even like him. I want you to go out and find a replacement. Can you do that?"

Cathy didn't move.

He said, "OK, go get a replacement."

Cathy got up and walked back out in the audience. She walked up to a big tall strapping fellow with bright yellow hair; she stood in front of him for several seconds. She walked away. Then she walked over to another guy, another big strong looking fellow. She got real close. She looked him in the eye. She walked away from him too. Finally she walked over to Theresa. She stood right in front of the other woman. She smiled at her. Then she walked away. She stood out in the middle of the audience all alone.

The hypnotist called, "Cathy you have to find someone."

Cathy nodded. She started back through the audience. She looked this way and that. She didn't pick anybody. Finally she walked back over to Steve. She sat back down on his lap.

The hypnotist looked at Steve, "I don't know what you've got, but whatever it is I want some of it." He called Cathy back up on stage and reawakened her, "Cathy do you know what we just did?"

She looked at him and shook her head in the negative.

"I told you that you didn't love your boyfriend anymore and you should go out in the audience and pick someone else."

Cathy looked at him in fright. My God she thought I wonder what I did.

The hypnotist asked her, "Do you want know who you picked?"

Cathy nodded her head in the negative. She was too sacred to say anything.

He asked her, "Are you sure you wouldn't like to find out who you picked to replace your boyfriend?"

She shook her head no again.

He looked at the audience. "She doesn't want to know who she picked. Do you think we should show her anyway?"

Cathy was on the edge of her seat.

The audience clapped and laughed loudly. Everyone started shouting, "Yes show her."

The hypnotist put his hand on her shoulder, "Just sit right here."

He looked out at the audience and asked, "Will the man the young lady picked to replace her current boyfriend please come up and claim his prize?"

On cue all the men made as if to get up. Cathy was terrified. Finally all of them sat down, all but one. Steve got up and slowly walked to the stage. He climbed the steps and helped her off her chair, "You picked me."

She started to laugh, then cry, then she giggled, she wrapped her arms around him, leaned up as far as she could but four extra inches and all still could only reach his cheek, so that was where she kissed him.

The hypnotist looked out at the audience, "I think the girl and her boyfriend need a big round of applause don't you?"

Everyone stood up and clapped and cheered. The hypnotist walked over to Cathy and Steve. He put his arm around Cathy and took Steve's hand, "No one, I mean no one's ever done that before. 

You're one hell of a lucky guy."

Steve took Cathy in his arms and kissed her right there in front of the whole audience, "Don't think for a minute I don't know it."

The hypnotist looked at everyone, "Well that wraps up our show for tonight. Make sure you use your designated driver. Tell your friends we're here every night. Have a safe trip."

Steve and Cathy walked off the stage to rejoin their friends. They were more in love now than even before, if that was possible.

Theresa looked at the happy couple. She smiled and teased. Inwardly she vowed, somehow she was going to make this end.

++++++++++++

Life for Steve and Cathy got even better after the hypnotist's performance. If Steve ever wanted proof of Cathy's sincerity nothing could have done it better that evening at the night club. 

Cathy, having been hypnotized had no recollection of what happened, but Steve, Glynnis and Carol didn't hesitate to fill her in. 

In hindsight the night club for Cathy was the Godsend she'd needed. She and Carol had become friends even beforehand, but afterward it was Glynnis who called. 

Cathy still kept up a lively discourse with Theresa, usually about their past relationships, their childhoods, and prior professional and social lives. Theresa had experienced a lively past. Her college days and the discovery of her lesbianism were fascinating. Cathy found it was easy to open up and share with Theresa almost everything about her own past, her marriages, her childhood, and the fun she'd had in college. 

Yes, talking to Theresa was like a trip down memory lane; it was fun and fun in that way one had when talking about things that no longer mattered, things that had no more relevance, but was still exhilarating. She imagined it might have been kind of like the middle aged man whose athletic exploits grew more daring with each passing year. Their stories, hers and Theresa's probably were liberally spliced with exaggeration, Cathy knew hers had been. 

It was Glynnis and Carol who gradually took over most of her non-Steve and non-hospice time. The three of them found repeated opportunities to share lunch, join in on electronic conference contacts, interactive e-mails, and just a milieu of incidental communications. One thing led to another and pretty soon Carol and Glynnis were opening up about the hospice. She was glad they did, because she had lots of ideas. 

One of Cathy's most robust harebrained ideas had germinated as a result of her conversations with the Methodist minister. He'd suggested she consider some kind of nondenominational coalescence around the hospice. He explained all the better churches had missionary programs. What was to keep them from diverting some of their resources to a home grown service organization like the hospice? 

Backed by the new confidence Glynnis and Carol had in her Cathy broached the subject to her new friends one day at lunch. She suggested they start to visit the local churches and see what the effort might bring. Glynnis had warned her that Steve, though once an avid church goer might stand in the way. Carol also warned that Theresa's lesbianism could be a problem. But it was Steve's story that was the most disturbing for that was when Cathy gleaned some tragic and most unwelcome discoveries about Leah and Steve. 

Glynnis filled her in completely about Steve's philandering, and about Leah's retaliatory exploits. As Cathy listened it sounded like something right out of some soft core pornographic romance. 

That wasn't the worst though. Cathy had never been much of a church goer, and reading the Bible, Old and New Testaments never had much appeal. Sure she knew about Moses, Noah, and such, and she had a passing acquaintance with Peter and Paul, but a real examination of the Bible was as foreign to her as the landscape of the Moon.

Glynnis revealed one piece of scripture that turned out to be especially unpleasant. It seemed when Jesus was being investigated by the Roman Governor Pontius Pilate, some Jewish spectators made a stupid comment about how they, the Jews, would take full responsibility for Jesus's death. Glynnis explained the whole passage was just like two incomplete sentences, and it was only found in one place in the whole Bible. But she explained Christians, not all Christians but quite few, had been using it for centuries to beat up on the Jews.

Cathy didn't get it at first. She remembered asking Glynnis, "So a few Jewish people were blamed for one man's death two thousand years ago, so what?"

Glynnis explained it in more detail, she'd said, "Look Cathy all the laws and all the stuff that happened in Europe and in other places can be traced to one line in the Bible. Think about what happened in the 1930's and 1940's. Preachers all over Europe used one line, one single line, to justify the worst atrocity in modern times." 

Cathy had been sympathetic, "OK, I'm sorry, but I didn't do it, and what does that have to do with anything here and now anyway?"

That's when Glynnis opened her eyes, "Cathy, Leah was a Jewish girl. While she was dying Steve, went to his church for help and support. The pastor there, not the same one who's there now, told Steve a lot of terrible things."

"Like what," Cathy remembered asking. 

Carol had heard this story first so she told it, "The minister told Steve Leah's leukemia was God's punishment of Steve for marrying a Jewess."

Cathy remembered her own incredulity, "No!"

Worse explained Carol, "After Leah died the same minister performed the funeral. At the grave he specifically referred to Leah as one of the 'Christ Killers', and her death should be a warning to all real Christians."

Cathy had been dumbstruck. She remembered replying, "No Carol that can't be true; no one would ever say that."

Glynnis changed the subject a little and had asked Cathy something else. She pointed to the locket she had on, "has anyone ever said anything to you about that?'

Cathy had asked, "About what?"

"The Chai around your neck."

"The what," she asked?

That locket Steve gave you. Haven't you ever noticed the etching? It's a Chai, an old symbol worn by Jewish women, it means life or something."

Cathy recalled reaching for the locket. It was then she remembered the symbol, who it was associated with, and what it meant. She remembered saying, "No I...but I can't believe a minister, or anybody would say the thing you said."

Carol looked Cathy squarely in the eye and answered, "No dear, that's a true story." 

Glynnis nodded her head, "We all heard it."

For Cathy that explained a lot. When she'd first heard it she'd thought Leah was an odd name, but then she remembered Leah had been somebody's sister or something in the Old Testament. Then there was the locket. The funny shaped talisman. Why not a heart or a cross, a chi roe even? No it was that other funny thing, for Jews she remembered. It was a Jewish amulet, and that was why Theresa immediately recognized it. Steve hated God. He hated church people. He especially hated preachers. It made sense. She remembered thinking she'd hate anyone who'd said something like that about someone she loved, and then have that someone have the misfortune to die of anything as horrid as leukemia. Oh poor Steve. Oh poor Leah! Had the preacher said the same thing to her? What a vicious travesty!

Cathy remembered her decision. "We have to go to all the Christian churches. We have to invite them to join us in support of our hospice, but we must have some kind of test, a litmus test. Any church that wants to help us can, but they have to renounce the part in the Bible about the Jews and Jesus."

Carol asked, "What if they don't"

Glynnis answered that, "Then they won't be Christians anyway, and we won't want their money."

Cathy had asked, "What about the synagogues?"

Carol answered, "Are you kidding? First, Jews give to charities like there's no tomorrow anyway. If we made it known we'd put that kind of condition on church giving the synagogues will be knocking each other down to help."

Cathy remembered smiling and leaning back, "Then we can go to the houses of worship, all the houses of worship. We can tell them our dream and our concern. After that we'll leave it In God's hands."

Glynnis asked, "Christian churches and Jewish synagogues?"

Cathy asked, "Is there a difference? It's the same God isn't it?"

Glynnis commented, "Who knows God? I only know she sure works in mysterious ways."

All three laughed out loud.

Cathy remembered saying, "Yeah, She sure is something."

They all laughed some more.



Too Clever by a Mile Ch. 09



Chapter Nine: The Fragility of Life 

One evening Steve took Cathy out to dinner and then to a movie. Dinner was nice. Steve had a sirloin and Cathy, careful about the baby she was carrying had a piece of fish. She supposed a steak would have been all right, but the lighter the meal, to her anyway, the better it was for the baby. She'd been having some nagging pains in her abdomen anyway, and always a little bit of a hypochondriac anyway, she decided to watch what she ate. 

Yes, she'd been careful about what she ate, and what she did too. About the only strenuous thing she'd done was some time ago when she got in the pool with Steve and waded around a little bit. That had been a fairly safe activity, but Steve had gotten silly that day and insisted they fool around in the water. She remembered how he backed her up against the side of the pool down at the deep end and pushed himself inside her. She didn't like it much, the water had made her dry, and she liked his stupid humor even less, something about her sinking and drowning if he took it out. He made up for it later though when he got her in the house and pleasured her with his tongue. One thing about Steve; he sure knew where to put his tongue and his lips. 

The movie hadn't been very good. Though it starred Johnny Depp and Angelina Jolie it turned out to be a senseless thing about a tourist who really wasn't. She'd felt ill at ease through the whole showing. She wasn't that far along, but it was more than that. 

When they got home she could tell Steve was feeling amorous. All the way home he'd kept pulling her close and caressing her neck. She still had a good time when they made love, but lately it had started to feel uncomfortable. Usually she could talk him out of anything that called for actual intromission, but tonight she was afraid he wanted to go the distance. If they did it would have to be side by side; she didn't want him on top of her anymore.

In the bedroom Cathy did all she could to thwart, or at least delay, her husband's advances. She took an extra-long time getting undressed. She pulled on a full length winter time long sleeved nightie. She over did it when she combed out her hair. In the bathroom she brushed her teeth twice, and put on a facial cream in the hopes the greasy otherworldly sheen would discourage him. She even took an extra-long poop hoping by the time she finished he'd be too tired. 

She didn't pay any extra attention to the toilet paper. All toilet paper looked a little brown after that first wipe, and the slight brownish hue on the second wipe, even if it was just her vagina, didn't really bother her either.

At last she got out of the bathroom hoping to find Steve asleep, only to find him wide awake and the bed covers nicely tented. He hadn't even turned the lights out. Heck, she thought, 'he had a semi at least.' She never thought Angelina Jolie was that sexy, and Cathy knew she hadn't set the world on fire lately so it had to have been something in the popcorn. Oh well, there was no getting out of it; she'd have to do her womanly duty. She left the light on, trudged over and climbed awkwardly into bed.

Steve rolled over and reached down between her legs. He gave her puss a little wipe and pulled his fingers to his nose, "Ah my little turtle dove. You're so..." He stopped, a distracted he asked, "Did you wipe?"

She rolled her head over and looked at him, "Are you crazy? Of course I wiped."

He held up his fingers, "Well what's this?"

She looked at his fingers. First they smelled funny, and second they looked dirty. She sat up, "I better go check." Cathy climbed back out of bed and went to the bathroom. She was sure she was clean. She got back in bathroom, sat down on the toilet seat, and pulled up her nightie. Something wasn't right. There were traces of what had to be blood plus some kind of brownish mucus stuff. She called out, "Steve. Come here a minute honey."

Steve grumbled and rolled off his side of the bed. Still naked and half determined, if she was still on the seat, to get something for nothing. He walked in, "Forgot to wipe huh."

She wasn't smiling, "No, look." She held up another piece of toilet paper, "I don't know what this is."

Steve looked at the paper. It didn't register that there could be a problem, "Forgot to wipe didn't you."

"No Steve. Here look." She took a clean piece of paper and wiped her vagina again, "Something's wrong." 

Steve got down on his knees and looked in at her vagina. He'd had three Jim Beams so he wasn't in the most analytical frame of mind. "Just looks dirty to me. Give me some paper."

Cathy tore off some more paper.

Steve took the proffered paper and dabbed at her puss. He still made her keep her vagina free of hair and it looked terrific, moist, labial lips swollen and engorged and the whole thing from her cute little clitoris all the way to her lovely little ass just as pink and pretty as ever. His hard on that had begun to fade started to perform a Lazarus. But it didn't smell right, and the toilet paper had more of that funky brownish mucus. He leaned in very close, so close his nose touched the ravine between her lips. Though something seemed wrong he kissed her there anyway. It was certainly damp, but not warm. Something wasn't right. He looked up. She was watching him, and he could tell she was nervous. Damn, nervous or not, her little nipples were sticking out like two little rosebuds against her nightie, "What do you suppose it is?"

Cathy had been reading up on pregnancies. She was sure it was probably something like ectotropia, a terrible malady where the fetus developed outside the placenta. It was always fatal, "I'm scared Steve."

Steve was concerned too, but he hadn't read any of the literature so he wasn't ready to call 911 just yet. He kissed then dabbed at her puss again; it stunk and he got more mucus, "Honey there's no blood, only this brown stuff, and it smells funny. I don't think it's too serious, but if you want we can go to the hospital."

She didn't hesitate, "Let's go to the hospital."

Steve kept looking from her pretty little breasts as they pushed against her silky nightie and her swollen vagina. He still half hoped he'd get something out of this, "You're sure."

She replied, "Yes I'm sure."

"OK, let's get dressed. I'll meet you at the car."

Cathy pulled his hair, "No don't go yet. I feel funny. I want you to help me downstairs."

All thought of any kind of sex died. She really was afraid. He stood up and took her two dainty little hands, "Come on I'll help you get ready."

They went back in the bedroom where he helped her into a light blue empire waist mini-dress that had a slightly scooped peter pan collar, puffed shoulders and short sleeves lightly trimmed with ruffles and tiny bows. She slipped on a pair of cotton panties, ankle high light blue socks, and a pair of brown penny loafers. The absence of any make up made her look plain, but the ribbons she used to tie her hair off in two pig tails plus the dress and shoes gave her an innocent concupiscence that set his heart a throb again. 

He was always amazed. Cathy was always able to evince a vulnerability, an innocence, that made him want to hold and protect her. She didn't do it deliberately, it wasn't something she planned, in fact she had no conscious awareness of the affect she had on him. She thought she was ugly. Brother was she ever wrong.

++++++++++++ 

After a short drive and a three hour wait they got to see the emergency room doctor. He looked her over. He told her he didn't think it was anything serious. He thought she could go home, but to stay in bed. He recommended they get an appointment to see someone fairly soon and get some tests done. 

When Cathy asked him about ectotropia he assured her that was highly unlikely, but he did warn her she might have a milder problem, maybe something like placental previa.

That scared Steve, "What's that." He asked?

The doctor explained placenta previa was a not completely uncommon occurrence. He explained it was when the placenta, the body bag that carried the baby, sometimes pressed down on the woman's uterus. The pressure could cause a slight interruption in the blood flow to the fetus, some vaginal bleeding, and could result in a mild mucus discharge. He explained the best way to prevent complications was inactivity, preferably staying in bed.

Neither Cathy nor Steve were very reassured, and asked if Cathy shouldn't stay the night and get the tests first thing in the morning. The doctor said they could, but they'd probably be better off visiting their family doctor or a specialist of their choice the next day. Both Cathy and Steve felt like they were dealing with a quack, and maybe just getting the bum's rush, but they finally agreed to go home and make their own arrangements. 

They went home. He carried her from the car to their bedroom, got her undressed and back in bed. Though all thoughts of sex were forgotten, he still took a long time helping her get situated even to the point of sponging her off from head to toe. 

While she tried to doze off he got out the lap top and did some research. He found out the placenta thing the doctor described could be serious; it could lead to all kinds of complications. 

The next morning, while Cathy slept Steve made arrangements to see their family doctor that very day. Steve wasn't scared; he was being careful, his baby and his wife needed him. Though he certainly didn't want anything bad, the whole situation made him feel important, more useful. He reflected on the way he felt. The old Steve Murphy never thought about anyone but himself. He still thought about himself, but it was like his happiness was no longer measured by personal comfort, it was measured by the happiness and security of those around him. He liked that; he liked the kind of man he'd become.

Their family doctor was an older man of good repute. He gave Cathy a thorough examination, and set up an appointment with a specialist for some serious tests. He reassured them there was nothing to worry about. Their baby was fine, but Cathy should stay in bed or t the very least off her feet, and she should avoid any physical activity. Two days later, thanks to Steve's medical contacts through the hospice, tests were administered and results indicated placental previa was the culprit. Cathy was to be confined to a life of inactivity for the duration. 

For Steve the next several weeks were his opportunity to be the doting husband and prospective dad and also to experiment with some new perverse sexual and marital pleasures he'd conjured. For Cathy Steve's new sexuality experiments became something of a pain in the ass, what she really disliked though was her inability to get out and around. She'd come to view her entertainment activities at the hospice as something akin to apostolic work; her reason for being who she was. 

Steve made some slight cutbacks in his hours at the hospice. He still made his daily visits with the kids, but much of the clerical and procedural work he could do from home. Of course there were still the visits round town to meet with people and beg for money, but those aspects of his job couldn't be altered. 

To help with Cathy he called another local facility and made arrangements for a live in helper. He still had his Spanish ladies, but they had their hands full with too many other duties to ask much more of them.

The new live in nurse helped he hired was an older woman who'd been a nurse. They moved her into one of the bedrooms down the hall. She was a tall somewhat overweight, perhaps a little too muscular woman who insisted on wearing her traditional white nurse's outfit. Her name was Nancy Trumbull. She was a nice person, perhaps a little brusque, but generally quite nice. Steve was convinced between the two of them they would be able to handle Cathy quite easily. Cathy took an instant dislike to Nancy. 

There wasn't anything Cathy could point to about Nurse Trumbull; it just seemed like a milieu of little things that got under her skin. For one this was Cathy's first pregnancy. It was a big deal. She didn't care how many times Nurse Trumbull had seen other women with the same problem, this was her baby and her first time. Another thing was her indifferent attitude toward everything she did. She made the bed each morning with Cathy still in it. She'd make her roll to one side while she pulled the sheets and put on new. Then she made Cathy roll to the new side while she put the rest in place. 

As far as Nurse Trumbull was concerned Cathy was a lump of coal or a hunk of lifeless beef. It was her matter of fact attitude about everything. She wouldn't let her out of bed for anything. She wouldn't even help her get in the big lazy boy Steve had bought and put in their bedroom. Nurse Trumbull told her the lazy boy was for her husband at night. It wasn't something for Cathy to sit in during the day. There was a television in the bedroom, but Nurse Trumbull kept the remote. Cathy was going nuts watching soap operas. 

One of the worst things had to do with her personal hygiene. When she brushed her teeth the nurse brought in a pan and an already paste dabbed brush. Cathy wasn't allowed to decide how much toothpaste she got. Then Nurse Trumbull watched while she brushed. It was like Cathy was a five year old. The nurse wouldn't take the pan away till she brushed for three solid minutes, and then rinsed twice. She made her tuck a napkin under her chin when she ate. She sponged her off morning and noon. Steve did her at night. Still the worst was when she had to pee or poop. Nurse Trumbull stood at the foot of the bed and watched the whole time. Then she took thre toilet paper and wiped her ass for her. Cathy wasn't even allowed to wipe her own ass.

One good thing though was the way Nurse Trumbull gave her twice daily massages. Since Cathy was trapped in bed her muscles were getting soft, and there was always the chance of bed sores. Nurse Trumbull really knew how to massage her lifeless limbs. Thank the Lord for small blessings.

But the absolute most worst thing of all was how much Cathy missed the hospice, she missed her visits with the kids, she worried that they missed her. Cathy missed dressing up and playing make believe with the boys and girls. Nurse Trumbull acted like her dress ups and visits to the children was just her, Cathy's, way of play acting, pretending she was a child again. She couldn't get it through the woman's head that though it was play acting, and she was pretending to be a child, it was for the children that she was doing it. 

Cathy really missed her kids. She called the hospice every day to check on them. One little boy was especially sick. She was afraid she'd never get to see him again. Ion the end that was what broke up Nurse Trumbull's little reign of terror.

One afternoon Theresa made one of her twice weekly visits. Up to then no one had seen Nurse Trumbull in action; what Cathy had come to call her polite condescending little cruelties. She'd complained to Steve, but he had his own agenda, and wouldn't believe her. 

Theresa was in the bedroom and Nurse Trumbull didn't know she was there. Anyway nature called, and Theresa had to excuse herself to the bathroom. Just as Theresa slipped into the bathroom Nurse Trumbull walked in, "Good morning dearie. It's time to make your bed and get you ready for the day."

Cathy tried to sit up, but the nurse firmly pushed her back down on the pillow, "Now, now we mustn't try to get up."

Theresa watched quietly while she saw the nurse keep Cathy prone with one hand while she changed first one half then the other half of the bed. She watched as every time Cathy tried to move the nurse firmly pushed her down. 

Theresa watched and listened while Cathy tried to tell the nurse they had an early visitor. Cathy looked up at the nurse and started to say something. As Cathy looked at Nurse Trumbull., Theresa could see trepidation, maybe even fear in her friend's face. 

Cathy murmured, "Nurse Trumbull I..."

The nurse turned and in in an instant Theresa saw her take her pointer and tall man and smack Cathy on the cheek. She said, "Hush. Can't you see I'm busy? I'll bring you your bed pan when I'm finish making your bed and not before."

Cathy tried to speak again, "I..."

The nurse leaned into her ward's face, "I said hush. Now don't try to aggravate me, or I'll make you wait till this afternoon to go."

Theresa had heard and seen enough. She stepped from the bathroom, "Thank you Miss Trumbull. Mrs Murphy won't ne needing you anymore. I'll call a cab. Try be gone within the hour."

Nurse Trumbull was aghast, "I have my work..."

Theresa shook a finger at the now very conciliatory nurse, "No, I'm afraid your work here is done now. If you're not gone within the hour I'll call the police."

Nurse Trumbull tried defiance, "You wouldn't dare!"

Theresa reacted, "In fact if you aren't gone even sooner I'll call Mr. Murphy. I saw you strike a pregnant woman. Mr. Murphy takes a dim view of that kind of conduct."

Cathy watched the little drama with relish. For sure, the nurse had never touched her like that before, but it was something she thought was on the horizon. She was just glad Theresa was there to see the first time. After the nurse left Cathy sighed and thanked her friend. She had no idea the new kinds of torture that were in store for her.

Theresa called Steve and told him the nurse had been dismissed, and that from then on till Cathy delivered her their baby she, that was to say Theresa, would move in and serve as full time helpmate.

++++++++++++

Theresa loved Steve. She loved him like she loved her two brothers. She also had great affection for Cathy, but her feelings for Cathy went in another direction. She remembered the night after her party; the party where she'd tried to harm her new best friend. Cathy had been all warmth and love that night. Cathy knew Theresa was a lesbian, but she'd stayed overnight anyway. Nothing had happened, but ever since Cathy had special place in Theresa's heart. Now at last she had her chance to show her deeper feelings.

++++++++++++

The evening after Nurse Trumbull left Steve, Cathy, and Theresa held a peaceful little conference in the bedroom. It was a meeting that was to set a now gold standard for Cathy's personal care and a new high in sexual frustration. 

Theresa started off, "I'll move in later tonight. Tomorrow morning I'll get up and I'll take care of Cathy."

Steve chimed in, "That's great Terry. I'll pick for you after work. Between the two of us we'll have our girl in ship shape all the time.

Cathy volunteered, "I need to get out. I need to get to the hospice. I want to go downstairs. I feel like a prisoner up here day and night."

Steve interjected, "Go out you shall. I can carry you downstairs when I get up. I'll make arrangements to rent a van so we can get you back and forth to the hospice."

Cathy started to add something but Theresa spoke first, "I know were we can find one of those oversized carriages. They're like a baby carriage, but equipped to handle an adult." Looking at Cathy, "We can get you about in that."

Cathy wanted to say something more about her activities at the hospice, but Steve must have read her mind, "There are a million ways we can dress you up so you can play act at the hospice. The kids will love it."

She wanted to assert some independence about her hygiene, but before she could get that out Theresa was there again, "I don't want to control your private activities. I'll only help with hygiene down there." She pointed to Cathy's lower body, her crotch and legs, "You mustn't try to over extend yourself down there." She smiled and held Cathy's hand, "It'll only be for a few weeks."

Cathy wanted to do her own oblations but before she could respond Steve interjected, "Theresa's right Cathy. We're worried about you, and besides it's my baby too."




Too Clever by a Mile Ch. 09



Cathy never got in a word, but at least she was more the arbiter of her own fate than before. She smiled and nodded her head, "What about food?" She was famished for something tasty.

Theresa squeezed her hand, "Nothing that might cause constipation I'm afraid. We don't want any straining down there."

Cathy looked away, "Oh OK."

++++++++++++

Cathy hadn't realized it, but her one jailor was about to be replaced by two and each one had an agenda. She started to find out the next morning.

First thing the next morning Theresa was at her bedside, "Good morning Cathy. Feeling good this morning?"

Cathy yawned, "Pretty good I guess. Can I go downstairs today?"

Theresa smiled sweetly, "Steve's out right now, but he'll be back around 10:00; how about an afternoon in the sitting room?"

For Cathy, after two weeks in the bedroom, the sitting room sounded like a visit to the Grand Canyon, "That would be great."

Theresa bustled around a little until she got what she needed ready, "Before Steve gets back let's get you cleaned up."

Cathy stretched, "OK."

Theresa pulled the covers down, "I'll make the bed when you're downstairs. Right now though let's get you cleaned up. I'll do your lower extremities."

Cathy only smiled.

Theresa lifted Cathy's nightie and looked over her friend's rear end and vagina, 'Cathy honey I'm going to give you a little suppository."

"A suppository why"

"Well we don't want any accidents downstairs. Now just lie still." Theresa opened a little sachet and pulled out a small packet, "I'll put this in, and it will dissolve on its own. As it dissolves anything you might have inside will come out."

Cathy rolled over on her side so Theresa could put in the suppository. It seemed like Theresa was taking forever. First she took some wet wipes and softly rubbed over her ass cheeks. That done she used her fingers to carefully spread her rectum. Cathy felt the suppository as Theresa slowly pushed it in. It wasn't hard or anything, and it didn't hurt, but it produced the strangest sensations, almost like the way it felt when Steve went inside her vagina. 

Theresa kept working it around, and in and out, "I want to get it all in. Tell me if it hurts, and I'll stop."

Cathy lay perfectly still. If anything it felt exquisitely good; it sort of felt like sex. She even squirmed just a little.

Theresa asked, "I'm not hurting you am I?"

Cathy sighed, "No, I'm fine."

After a few more moments Theresa stopped. She softly patted Cathy's rump, "That's good. Now I have something for your vagina."

"My vagina," Cathy asked?

Theresa could see Cathy's face, but Cathy couldn't see hers. If she had she would have been surprised. This was as good as sex for Theresa, "Now roll over and lie back on your back."

Cathy rolled over on her back.

Theresa took a soft cotton towel and dabbed Cathy's vagina. Then she used her fingers to wipe a soft comfort cream all over the surface of her mons. She was careful to slowly and gently rub over every tiny smidgen of labia and the outer crevices of her uterine cavity. She used her fingers to gently tweak Cathy's clitoris. Theresa leaned in real close and carefully blew the cream dry. 

The gentle blowing was like a spring breeze on Cathy's private parts. She was soon wetter from the blow dry than from the original cream. Cathy murmured, "That feels good."

Theresa took her left hand and gently rubbed over Cathy's rounded tummy. She spent extra long around her navel.

It felt good, and Cathy sighed again.

Theresa whispered, "I'm going to insert a small vaginal douche. Now hold still."

Cathy lay quite still while Theresa slowly inserted a firm but not at all uncomfortable object in her vagina. It was nothing like Steve's penis, but it was the first thing that had been up there in nearly three weeks. It felt very good. It seemed like Theresa's fingers were everywhere and she spent an inordinate amount of time getting the thing in. She kept rubbing back and forth across her clitoris. It felt extremely good. Her privates were getting very sensitive. It wasn't like sex with Steve, but it sure felt good. She had a warm luscious feeling all over. If this kept up she'd need some kind of release. 

Theresa helped her roll over, and for the next several minutes she used her fingers and cotton swabs to clean her rear end. Every now and then one of Theresa's fingers went just a little way inside. Cathy inadvertently pushed against Theresa's fingers when she did get inside.

At last Theresa helped Cathy roll over on her back. She cleaned up the fluids that had seeped from her vagina; again Theresa's fingers were all over the place, nothing fast, nothing hurried, just a slow steady, casual, but increasingly firm set of pressures and movements across her clitoris, up and down her labia, and inside her vagina. 

By the time Theresa had finished Cathy was reaching down to her vagina to massage herself to orgasm. Theresa pushed her hand away, "Let's get you dressed. Steve will be here any moment."

Theresa got her into a pair of cotton panties and then helped her get a shorty romper on. Theresa pulled it up her legs and over her privates and ass, then up and over her tummy. She buttoned it up to the top. By the time she was finished Cathy was completely encased. Her poor pussy was hot and wet, but now dressed and ready for Steve, she was helplessly trapped. She'd be horny all day, she was sure of it.

++++++++++++

Steve did show up. He carried her to the sitting room and laid her back on the loveseat. They spent the day watching old movies and just kissing and fondling. He made her miserable. He didn't touch her vagina or rear end a single time. All his other kissing and the way he touched her cheeks, her neck, and her breasts only made her worse. The seam of the romper pressed against her cotton panties, the cotton panties found their way inside her vaginal crease. By suppertime she was ready for anything, but when Theresa came in to help get her ready for dinner all she saw was more vaginal mucus. She had no way of knowing the mucus she inspected had nothing to do with placental previa, it was all about sexual frustration.

Steve took her upstairs where she had supper. 

Supper was another matter. Cathy looked at the food on her plate, "What's this?"

Steve reached across and patter her hand, "Theresa thought it best that you eat a little differently till the baby comes."

Cathy looked askance at the food on her plate, "Yeah, but what's this?"

Steve winked, "Well let's see. Those are mashed potatoes. These are acorn squash, and this is chicken; oh and this under the lid that's blueberry buckle, and here's some skim milk."

Cathy looked at Steve like he was crazy, "its all baby food."

Cathy was furious, "I can't eat this!"

Steve grabbed both her hands before she could do anything. While he held her hands in front of her he chided, "Now Cathy. It's only for a few weeks. Once the baby comes I'll take you out and you can order lobster."

She was beside herself, "I'm not eating this."

Steve rearranged her hands so that he had her two hands in one of his, much like he'd done one night when they made love, "Now look here sweetheart. Do I have to feed you?"

Cathy glowered.

Steve picked up her fork and scooped up a portion of squash. He held the fork to her mouth, "Come on; open wide."

Cathy turned her head.

Steve followed with the fork, "Come on now."

She turned the other way,'

He followed, "Cathy."

She opened her mouth.

He pushed the fork in so she could take the squash, "That's my girl."

She surrendered, "OK, let go, I'll eat."

He let her hands go.

Cathy quickly picked up the tray and threw it across the bedroom.

Steve calmly got ut of bed, "Now that wasn't very smart honey." He quietly went about cleaning up the mess. Then he called downstairs for another tray. Shortly one of the Spanish ladies was at the door with a second tray of food. This time Steve sat beside his wife. With one hand he firmly held her two small hands in place at her throat while he slowly and deliberately fed her dinner. When he was finished he took a napkin and wiped her chin, "Now that wasn't too bad was it?"

She glared over at him, "I hate you Steve Murphy. I should have robbed you when I could. You're a real stinker."

He laughed. It was a loud uproarious laugh, "OK, so Theresa and I played a little trick on you today. How would you like to go to the hospice tomorrow? I mean if you're not too hot and bothered?"

She looked at him in disbelief, "You, you and Theresa? The suppositories, the douche, all afternoon on the loveseat, this stupid food, you two planned it all?"

He couldn't stop laughing, "Fun wasn't it." 

Cathy started to cry, and then her tears turned to laughter. She couldn't control herself. She wanted to laugh. She wanted to cry. It had been one heck of a day, "I hate you Steve Murphy. I love you Steve Murphy!" She reached around the bed and pulled him into her arms, "I love you so much! Oh I love you. I love you. I love you so much." She kissed him and kissed him, and kissed him. She was crying. She was laughing. She was oh so unbelievably happy.

Later that night they made love. It was exquisite; no intromission. He did her, and she did him. He kissed her, and snuggled her, and fondled her, and caressed her; she kissed him, and snuggled him, and fondled him, and caressed him. Afterward he lay with his head gently resting on her tummy. 

He listened to their baby's heartbeat, "Can you hear it Cathy?"

"I can sort of. I feel it more than hear it."

He kissed her tummy, "I'll get a stethoscope tomorrow. We'll listen in together from now on every night."

She giggled, "You mean we'll eavesdrop on our oldest child?"

He smoothed his hand over her tummy, "Whoever he or she is; they're not old enough to argue yet."

She fluffed his hair, his long sandy hair, "You want to get a test and find out the sex?"

He looked up and winked, "No, let's let it be a surprise."

She curled her head down so she could kiss the top of his, "OK, it'll be a surprise."

They curled up together, arm in arm, belly to belly, heart to heart, and slowly drifted off to sleep.

++++++++++++

The next morning Theresa was back in the bedroom but this time there were no suppositories douches. She had a bag filled with clothes. They were all three going to get dressed up and go to the hospice. Theresa opened the bag, "Steve's downstairs and getting dressed. Here, let me help you get ready." She pulled out a knee length white and blue dress with an empire waist and low cut neckline. It had short sleeves and capped shoulders; ruffles trimmed the low neckline and the edges of the sleeves. Theresa's outfit was very similar. She let Cathy sit on the bed while she helped her put it on. The dress was followed by long white thigh high stocking and dark blue slippers. Then Theresa got her outfit out. It was identical except hers was trimmed in red not blue. 

Cathy leaned back on the bed, "I see, Snow White and Rose Red."

Theresa twirled around in her dress. She felt awkward wearing a dress, but this was for Cathy so she'd put up with it, "Steve is downstairs pouting his Prince Charming outfit on."

Cathy smiled happily, "Prince Charming. He really is isn't he?"

Theresa climbed on the bed bedside her best friend, "And you really, you're Cinderella."

Cathy hugged Theresa, "I love you Theresa."

Theresa hugged her back, "I love you too."

++++++++++++

Steve carried Cathy downstairs. They got in the rented van and drove to the hospice. It was a great day. None of the children were real bad off so they were able to play and frolic about without serious fear. Only Cathy stayed put. She kept her place in the big carriage Theresa had found for her. Later that afternoon they all went home. Steve ordered carry out. He got Cathy lobster.

++++++++++++

Things looked pretty good. The money for the addition was there, they'd started to talk about breaking ground. Theresa was her new doting companion, and Steve was by her side each and every morning and night. Better, Steve had kept an open mind about ministers and priests. He'd even started talking to them. Even better than that, her pregnancy had moved along smoothly. There wasn't anymore spotting, and she felt great. 

She was early in her seventh month. She awakened and there was blood, not just a few driblets of mucus, but blood. Cathy checked the clock. It was still early. Steve might not have left yet. She called out, "Steve! Steve!" 

He hadn't left. In fact he was on the toilet when she called out. He yelled back, "I'm right here. What's wrong?"

Cathy was scared and getting worse by the second. She wasn't just spotting. She was bleeding, "Steve help! I'm bleeding!"

He was out of the bathroom and by the bed in a split second, "Let me see." One look and he'd seen enough, Lie still." He grabbed his cell phone and hit 911, "I'm at, he gave his address, my wife is seven months pregnant and it looks like she's hemorrhaging. Yes..." He'd answered some question, "I'll be right here. Hurry please!" He put down the phone.

Cathy was hysterical, "Steve I'm going to lose the baby!"

He ran to the bedroom door and yelled down the hall, "Theresa come quick!" he ran back to Cathy. She'd started to sit up. He pushed her to the bed. He cupped her head in his arms; He tried to quiet her down, "Shush now. I called 911. An ambulance is on the way. You'll be fine. The baby will be fine."

She was crying uncontrollably. She cried out, "My baby. I'm losing my baby!"

He held her tight, "No you're not. Don't be silly. You're seven months along. He or she just might be arriving a little early that's all."

Theresa rushed into the room, "The baby's coming. I read up on this. It's not that unusual with this situation." Her comments seemed to help somewhat.

Cathy pressed her head into Steve's chest, "I'm scared Steve. I don't want to lose my baby."

He held her tight, "You won't. It'll be all right."

It couldn't have been more than two or three minutes later when they heard the ambulance. Steve had Cathy crushed to his chest, "Listen, they're here already."

Second later the paramedics were upstairs in the room. There was blood all over the sheets, but it looked a lot worse than it really was. The lead paramedic saw it all. He smiled, "Looks like somebody's coming a little early." He turned to his partner, "What do you think. Should we do it here, or try to get her to the hospital."

The other paramedic moved in for a closer look, "Let's go to the hospital. She could be hours away."

The first paramedic looked at Cathy and then at Steve, "There you have it from the man who knows. We've got plenty of time."

They lifted her on the stretcher they'd brought up, and had her in the ambulance a minute later. They turned the siren on, and with Cathy and Steve in the back the driver sped off to the hospital. 

Steve and Cathy's little girl was a little ahead of the seven month cycle, but they got her out safely and in an incubator right away. For Steve, the doctors and the paramedics the whole procedure went just about the way it was supposed to. From Cathy's perspective it wasn't quite that simple.

By the time they'd gotten to the hospital Cathy was having some serious pain. Appropriate medications were administered, and the delivery proceeded pretty much as expected. The little girl, as yet unnamed, was safely ensconced. Steve was cooling his heels in the Cathy's hospital room waiting for her to come around. The doctors and nurses were in and out; oblivious of the terror their guests had just gone through. 

Cathy slowly emerged from her drug induced rest. She panicked, "My baby, where's my baby?"

Steve was at her side, "Cathy."

Steve, where's my baby. Tell my baby's not dead."

He held her hand tightly, "Our baby's not dead. She's fine. You know she came early, two and a half months early. She's safe, safer than either one of us."

Where is she? I need to see her."

"All right, hold still. I'll get someone." Steve stepped out of the hospital rom and found a nurse, "My wife wants to see our baby."

The nurse chided, "Let me see Mrs. Murphy." The nurse went into Cathy's room, "Mrs. Murphy your baby's a preemie. She's not ready to fro you to hold yet, but we can take you to her. Would that be all right?"

Cathy nodded, "I need to see my baby."

They got Cathy on a gurney and wheeled her down the hall to where her baby was located. Cathy looked in through the glass at her little creation. She had to see her to make sure she was OK. She lay on the gurney while Steve held her hand, "Our baby Steve; our own little girl. What name did you give her?"

Steve held Cathy's hand, "I waited for you dear. We talked about a name, but I didn't want to jump the gun."

Cathy looked up at Steve. He was a good man. He was going to be a good father.

++++++++++++

They gave the baby the name they'd agreed if she turned out to be a girl. She was a long time at the hospital before she was deemed fit to face the world. She came home young and strong, a powerful little girl with a powerful set of new lungs, and a strong little heart.

An Epilogue:

Fall was almost over. There was a definite nip in the air. They were all in the back yard. Cathy looked out at the swimming pool, the famous swimming pool. She glanced down at the evergreens at the end of the yard. She remembered a chase down there. There was the gazebo, oh the gazebo. She was still a little on the round side and her breasts were a full size larger. The baby in the cradle beside her had become a real handful, quite spoiled. Though she'd come out too little and too soon, she was beautiful, a real cherub now. They named her Ginger, Ginger Leah Murphy. Cathy was sure neither person; not the frail little girl who'd died in the spring or Steve's first wife would have minded that they'd borrowed their names. She thought about the idea of borrowed names; life was way too fragile too precious to worry about little things like that. She looked down at her baby. She was so perfect. She was so tiny. 

Steve didn't know it yet, but Cathy had a hunch she was pregnant again. She'd had one period right shortly after Ginger Lee was born, but nothing since. She hoped she was. She wanted a big family. She wanted to fill the house with kids. They'd need a swing set in a couple years. They had to plan ahead. There was school. The public schools where they lived were all pretty good, but they had to think about college too that wouldn't be cheap. 

Steve and Theresa were in the yard arguing over names for the addition. They'd break ground in the spring. When she and Steve had gotten married Theresa had been her maid of honor. That seemed like such a long time ago now. It had been the next to the last time she ever saw Theresa in a dress. The only other time had been when the three of them had gone to the hospice together. Theresa was a dike, hardcore, and openly admitted it now. Over by the shed her latest lady friend was talking to Carol. 

Cathy leaned back and let the sun warm her face. Enjoy the moment she told herself, it's all anyone really has. The phone could ring at any time. There were sick kids to think about, pray for, and love. Love, yes love; no matter what, through sickness and health, bright days and sad, there was always love. She looked down. Ginger was starting to cry. She yelled across the yard, "Hey Steve. She's done it again. It's your turn!"

He smiled and waved. He was coming over. Cathy opened the cloth diaper bag, she got out the powder, a clean hand wipe, and a pamper. 



Too Clever by a Mile



They got to the hospice late, after midnight. All the children were supposed to be asleep. When they walked in the nurse at the desk told Steve the newest child was sound asleep. He could look in, though she advised against two visitors. Steve suggested that Cathy look in on the little girl she'd seen on her first visit. Cathy assumed the girl was probably asleep so she agreed.

The nurse agreed to allow Cathy see Ginger since it was on Steve's dime. While Steve went down to look in on the new boy, the nurse escorted Cathy to Ginger's room. When Cathy first looked in she barely recognized the girl in the bed. She remembered a fairly bright and perky, though sick, little girl. The girl she saw on this night looked horrid.

The nurse whispered, "It's the medication plus the leukemia. One stops the pain, but nothing stops the disease."

Cathy moved over to get a closer look. As she did the girl rolled over. Her deep dark brown eyes were filled with water, "Miss Cathy?"

She was trapped! The last thing she wanted was have to stop and talk to somebody's dying child, "It's me."

The little girl tried to move. The nurse intervened. She looked at Cathy, "We better go."

Ginger tried to squirm and sit up, "No, please."

The nurse was caught between a rock and a hard place.

Cathy got a little closer. She was quite scared, "Hi kid."

Ginger patted the side of the bed, "Lie down here."

Cathy looked at the nurse hoping for a rescue. 

The nurse looked back her, "In for a penny in for a pound."

Cathy lay down beside the sickly girl. She whispered, "How have you been?"

Ginger asked, "You and Mr. Steve boyfriend and girlfriend yet?"

Cathy lied, "We sure are."

Ginger managed to snuggle a little closer, "Lie here with me. My mom and dad are far away all the time, and I have three brothers. They can't see me much. Gee your body feels cool."

Cathy realized the girl was feverish, probably achy, and certainly more than a little lonely. Cathy had never had to worry about being lonely. She'd grown up with a mom and dad and two brothers. Her mom had always been home. Aside from an abusive father, right up until the time her mother killed herself, she never lacked for anything. Cathy thought about it. She'd had a rough time, but nothing like what this little girl was going through. She got a little closer to Ginger, "I'm awful tired. I have to go home soon."

Ginger squirmed a little closer, "I feel fragile. Stay here; stay with me."

Cathy knew what fragile meant, she probably ached all over. She whispered back, "Maybe for a little while."

Ginger whispered. "My mom has big bubbies. Yours are small. I like yours. They don't get in my face."

Cathy was nonplussed. She hated her small breasts. She'd often considered implants. This was the first time anyone had ever praised her for being little, "I bet you'll have nice ones like your mom."

Ginger smiled, "I don't think so."

"Sure you will."

Ginger's eyes got wider, "Only when I'm in heaven."

That scared the shit out of Cathy. This little girl knew, "Don't say that." 

The nurse realized things could get out of hand. She didn't want Ginger to get upset, "Miss Cathy you have to go now."

Ginger held on tightly, "You'll come back?"

Cathy pulled away, "Sure I will."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

Steve was outside Ginger's door when Cathy came out, "Thanks for letting me stop by. I got to see the new boy, and while you were with Ginger I got to walk around a little bit, I get here everyday, but sometimes I don't get around to see the kids. How's Ginger?"

Cathy gave him a look that would have killed a weaker man, "Take me home."

He realized her visit must have been traumatic, "It's hard to watch."

"She really is going to die."

He understood, "They usually do."

She had tears in her eyes, "How do you?" She couldn't complete the thought.

He took her hand. "I'm sorry."

After that their relationship evolved in another direction. Cathy started to see things differently. Steve wasn't just another man waiting to be emasculated; he was different. He made her feel different. She realized he never talked about himself; it was always the hospice, and the kids, and helping people. He was a different breed of cat.

One thing led to another. He asked her to move in with him. She refused. He promised no hanky panky, but that didn't matter. Her answer was still no. 

He persisted. She still wouldn't move in, but he kept wearing her down. She wouldn't move in, but she did succumb to his endearments. 

He was a real gentleman. They kept the carnality to a minimum. She was glad of it. Somehow though he started working on her appearance. He was a good talker. He got her out of her brassieres, and into camisoles, and he persuaded her to give up on the hair rinses. She couldn't figure him out. He was so kind, so considerate, and in many ways so persuasive. 

Under his caring and considerate eye she slowly metamorphosed. He made her feel prettier without the extra make-up, without the spiked heels, and without the sexy clothes. She was becoming somebody else. She didn't know who yet, but she knew she liked her.

Steve found Cathy an easy person to influence. She wanted someone to tell her she was prettier just being herself. She wasn't very pretty actually, but she sure looked better as a real person than she did as the caricature of a sexpot. He always believed pretty was as pretty did; it's what people do that makes them pretty not how they look. In that respect he thought she got prettier every day. He told her too. 

He found excuses to hold her hand, maybe protectively rest a hand on her shoulder, guide her by the elbow. When they talked he found reasons to touch her face, her cheeks and ears; maybe there was an imaginary piece of food, an errant lock of hair. He could tell she liked the attention; often she'd involuntarily lean into his hand like she was looking for a caress. She pretended to be worldly, sophisticated and cynical, but there was a gentle side, a girlish soft side he sensed was crying to get out. He did everything he could to cultivate that side of her.

She started looking more wholesome. He got her to forgo the slick dresses and pseudo-austerity of her mannish suits. He got her into skirts and blouses, and jumpers, and pretty day dresses that showed an entirely different side of her. He got her to start to see big breasts and curvy thighs weren't necessarily sexy, that sexiness was in a bright smile, and flashing eyes. In that respect he got her out of her phony colored contact lenses. She started to look younger, more crisp and clean, healthier, and he had to say, more vivacious. She stopped looking like somebody's whore, and started looking like somebody's pretty girlfriend, maybe his girlfriend. He had to admit he was smitten.

More Changes:

Cathy's relationship with Steve, and the way she was changing was troublesome. She'd thought she had a purpose, but that purpose kept getting blocked by good deeds. At first it was Steve's good deeds, but pretty soon she found herself something of a co-conspirator. They spent more time at the hospice. Cathy went with Steve to see all the kids, but she always managed to find an excuse to spend most of her time with Ginger. 

Ginger's leukemia seemed to go into remission, and that cheered Cathy up. Maybe the little girl would beat the odds. She started bringing her presents. She bought her a big panda bear. The kid loved it. They made up stories, they told fibs to the nurses when they came in. She met the girl's parents. They were nice people, a little tired but nice. 

Steve felt good about Cathy. He liked being with her. He'd been lonely since Leah had died, and Cathy gave him another reason to get up each morning. It took a lot of talking but he eventually managed to get her to move in with him. At first she occupied his bedroom, while he slept down the hall. Then he managed to break through. He thought he'd found a way into her heart.

It had happened quite by accident. He guessed those kind of things usually did. They made plans to visit one of his acquaintances, a potential donor. Cathy came downstairs wearing a long blue dress with a deep cut decollete, bare back, ultra high heels, and dark blue stockings. She thought she looked good. 

Actually the dress looked too large, and the color just wasn't right for her. There was too much plunge to the neckline for a woman with such small breasts, and the open back looked tawdry. He remembered how one thing led to another.

She asked, "How do I look?"

Steve smiled, "You look terrific, sexy, but are you sure that's what you want"

Cathy grew diffident, "Why, what's wrong?"

Steve grinned, "The Hanseth's are both in their seventies. They might not appreciate your beauty."

Cathy got defensive, "Well what do you think would meet the Hanseth's approval?"

He answered, "I don't know, let's go up and look?"

Together they went upstairs. Cathy opened the closet and all her drawers. She defiantly told him, "OK, pick something out."

He grinned, "Is it all right?"

She was perturbed, "Yeah, pick something."

He laughed, "All right. I'll pick while you get undressed."

She thought, not a bad idea. So she slipped out of the dress while he rummaged through her clothes.

She was standing in her bra, panties, and stockings when he turned around. He had a simple tan blouse. It was a soft cotton fabric, short sleeved, pretty V-neck. In his other hand he had a dark brown pleated skirt.

She looked at what he had. He'd chosen things she normally set aside as day wear, "You want me to wear that?"

He looked at her. The bra she had on looked out of place. She had small firm breasts; the brassiere made her look like an adolescent trying to appear older than she really was, "The bra is very pretty, but it looks unnatural on you.

"Unnatural?"

"You're petite Cathy. The bra makes you look like you want to be a big woman. You're not some big buxom blond; you're delicate and feminine. I mean your chest is naturally beautiful without the added accoutrements. Let's find you a nice camisole; something that will show your best qualities to full advantage."

"Camisole?"

"Cathy I think you've got a great shape, but maybe you could wear something a little different up top?"

"Up top, like what?"

"I'm not being fresh, but you have delicious breasts, yet you don't show them in their best light."

"Best light?"

He blushed, "They're small. You don't need a lot of trim work. Let your breasts go free. They'll be even prettier than they already are."

She liked the way he talked to her, the nice things he said about her body, a body she'd never been very pleased with. She started to undo her bra. Steve fished out a camisole. He walked over, "Here let me help you?" 

While she stood still, maybe a little miffed at his confidence, he carefully slipped the camisole over her shoulders. As he did his hand softly rubbed over her. As he drew the camisole down over her chest, he softly rubbed over her breasts with the palms of his hands.

Cathy felt the warmth of his hands. They were dry and firm, not overlarge but good steady hands; and the way they passed over her aureole and the sides of her breasts made her feel warm. Her nipples reacted like they had a mind of their own by getting larger and pressing outward like they were independently reaching up for his fingertips. She turned around. He was much taller than she was. She had to look up to catch his eye. As she looked up he looked down. He had hazel eye, but at that moment all she saw was pupil. She felt a wave of pulsating warmth sweep over her.

He took his right hand and held the back of her head. He leaned down and softly kissed her parted lips. While he kissed her his left hand gently caressed her bottom. 

In an instant his pants were down. An instant later they were both sitting on the bed; him on the bed, her on his lap with her legs straddling his. She slowly sank down on his manhood. It wasn't some high striking moment, no earth shattering event, but it sure was warm and sensuous. She slowly rose and fell on his penis. 

He sat there kissing her face and caressing her breasts. It was over in five minutes. He sprayed his semen deep inside. She didn't resist. It hadn't been an earthquake, but it sure felt comfortable and good.

Immediately afterward she rested her head on his shoulder, "Well that was unexpected."

He fumbled around trying to find something to say, "I didn't mean that to happen. I'm glad it did though." He kept kissing her.

She kissed him back.

He commented, "I'll call the Hanseth's."

She replied, "No we better go. It's for the hospice."

He was surprised by her remark. So far he'd rightly interpreted her interest in the hospice as mild condescension, like he was being patronized, but this time she sounded different. He thought he detected sincerity, a real concern, "You're right."

It had happened so fast. It had been so comfortable, so warm, and so natural. The next morning he was back in his own bedroom. It was the start of a new paradigm. From then on, though they had their moments, mostly they talked and cuddled. Only occasionally did the proximity of their bodies result in anything more. 

He liked the closeness of her body. She was small, much smaller than any woman he'd ever been with. He could wrap his arms it seemed almost around her twice. He felt more manly sleeping next to her than he'd ever felt with any other woman. He couldn't explain it, he just did. Maybe it was her diminutive size, maybe her soft lilting voice, maybe the unconscious gentility of her demeanor, but he found himself, more and more, thinking about her, contemplating a future with her. 

Cathy sensed the change too. Cathy's husbands had been weaklings. Neither showed that much affection. They played the sex game. They hopped in bed. Played the macho thing, got done and went to sleep. 

Most of the time Steve didn't even want to have sex. He just wanted to be close. She preferred that. Often sex with her husbands had made her feel claustrophobic. They'd want to climb on top and bounce around and hammer away. Sometimes she felt like they were just masturbating in her womb. She didn't have to be there at all. Steve made her feel different, more feminine, and like it mattered that they were together. He made her feel soft inside. 

When they had sex he talked to her, usually he just whispered what she called sweet nothings, but he knew she was there, and she felt like he wanted her to have as much pleasure as he did. He cared if she had anything happen. Once he'd ejaculated prematurely, something her husbands occasionally did too. Steve didn't just roll off and go to sleep. He kept cuddling and kissing and fondling until she got her satisfaction too. The moment wasn't quite the same as a real orgasm, but she felt really good afterward, all cuddly and goose bumpy. 

After that first time their conversations started to change. Steve opened up more about the hospice, what he wanted to do. She had ideas too. She wanted to contribute more. She couldn't explain the way she felt; maybe it was Steve, maybe it was the idea of the kids, maybe it was Ginger?

Something's Up:

One evening late after Cathy and Steve had eaten Steve got a phone call. It was Theresa one of Steve's oldest and dearest friends. Steve was lounging on the sofa in the living room, reading a pamphlet published by a much older, larger, and more successful hospice. Cathy was on the carpet at his feet watching television. She had her head on his knee and her hand in his trousers.

It seemed lately Cathy spent more and more time kneeling near where he was sitting or pushing whatever he was doing out of the way so she could take over his lap. She was getting to be like a puppy dog that way, always looking for attention. When they weren't kissing or cuddling she was hovering. 

He had to admit he liked it. Whether she was on the floor, on his lap, or just laying her head on his lap she always managed to find a way to get his zipper down so she could fiddle with his penis. He was hard half the time he was awake anymore.

The other day he was in his office at his desk working. Cathy was sitting on her behind beside him just letting him fondle her hair when an old friend and heavy contributor came in. Cathy slipped under the desk between his legs. The man, an older gentleman, had taken up a seat across from Steve. Luckily the desk went all the way to the floor in front so the older man couldn't see where she was hiding. 

There Steve sat at his desk, ink blotter on top, him looking like he was working and this older man seated across. The older man kept asking questions about some blueprints related to a proposed addition. Under the desk Cathy was on her ass, her head right at his groin with her hands all over his scrotum and penis. She didn't touch him with her mouth. She'd never done that, not yet anyway, but there she was right at his crotch. Every time the older man asked a question she tickled his penis or ran her fingers over his scrotum. It was all he could do to keep from laughing out loud. Here was this older man, a close friend trying to be serious, and all the while Cathy was playing with him. 

Once the man had finished he remembered walking him out the front door only to return to see Cathy stark naked kneeling in the middle of the rug. He tried to ignore her, but she tackled him and wrestled his pants off. They did it right there on floor, though he got rug burns on his knees It was really marvelous. 

Anyway he got this phone call from Theresa. She said she needed to see him right away. She had some news that would be of interest to him.

The next day they got together at her house. She said she had some disquieting news about Cathy. Apparently Allen and Glynnis Peregoy had met her or seen her someplace else. They checked her out through a mutual friend who knew a lawyer. It seemed Cathy had a past. She'd been married twice already, and both times she'd managed to strip her husbands of nearly all their resources. Worse she had apparently done it with a certain amount of animosity; something about getting what they deserved. 

Steve listened. He said it sure didn't sound like the Cathy he'd come to know, but Theresa assured him it was true. She had names and dates, no pictures. It looked damned incriminating. Was Cathy a gold-digger, and was he her next victim? He went back home that afternoon deeply troubled.

Later that evening Cathy must have sensed something was wrong. She kept questioning him about where he'd been and what he'd done that afternoon. Also she said she felt sick. She'd seen Ginger that afternoon while he was out, and the girl didn't look so good. 

Steve wondered whether Cathy was really worried about Ginger, or if she was using Ginger to get at him. Up till then he would have bet his last penny she cared about the kids, but Theresa's revelations cast a long shadow of doubt. He decided he needed to take some concrete action.

The first way to check on Cathy's story he figured was to see if she was sincere about contributing to the hospice. To accomplish that he got his lawyer over one evening, and together the three of them worked out a plan where Cathy could invest her money in some of Steve's projects, and concurrently set aside some money for the hospice. They showed her the paperwork. She'd signed it without hesitation. Steve thought that was pretty strong evidence she was for real. The second test would come at a dinner party. As it turned out it would the first of two big dinner parties where Cathy would be the center of attention.

Steve and his friends who knew the score had planned something with Cathy in mind, then a few evenings before the party Steve had this malevolent urge. It wasn't what he would call a cruel urge, but it was definitely different from the normal way he felt. He was angry; angry at himself, and angry at Cathy. He was unhappy about what he'd heard and couldn't accept it. He bought some ribbon at a craft shop, some red ribbon. That evening after he and she had finished a nice dinner of fish and salad and she'd gone upstairs and put on something for bed, he called her in his office




Too Clever by a Mile



She was right there. She looked excited. He wasn't surprised; his office had become something of the nerve center for their lovemaking. 

He rolled his chair back, "Come over here."

She was wearing a pretty white one piece romper. It had no straps or shoulder supports. It hung off the shoulder, held in place by a thin piece of elastic shrouded by lacy ruffles. From there it loosely drooped down to her waist where it was pulled together by another thin piece of elastic. Then it spread out again to frilly lacy panties that came to just above mid-thigh. She wasn't wearing anything underneath, the soft translucency of the material permitted only a hint of the delicious morsels within, she looked positively adorable, good enough to eat.

He pointed to the spot between his legs. "Stand here and turn around."

Cathy skipped over, her little boobs bouncing with each step. She turned around back to.

"Hold still." He took a piece of ribbon. It was perhaps an inch in width; he wrapped it around her wrists, and tied it off in a neat bow. It wasn't tight, but he knew it was tight enough to cause her to feel the compression. "OK," he said, "Turn back around."

She did. She was still smiling, "OK you've got me."

He felt foolish. He thought she'd fight back. She didn't. She liked it. She trusted him completely. He pointed to his knee, "Here."

She sat on his knees, hands behind her back. She leaned against him and pressed her head up under his chin, "You know what?"

He felt really uncomfortable, "No what?"

She started tickling his waist with her trapped hands, "I think I'm falling in love."

Just what he didn't want to hear. It was something he'd been thinking for the past several days, "He put his right arm around her shoulders and started fondling the back of her neck with the fingers of his right hand. He took his left hand and started to stroke the smooth mound of her vagina over the romper. He kissed her left boob through the thin material, "I don't know what we're going to do with you Cathy."

She pressed closer and kissed his neck, "Try making love to me."

He picked her up and carried her into the living room. That was one thing he'd really started to like doing. She was so soft and warm, and agreeable. He remembered Leah. By comparison Leah was cold and brittle. Why hadn't he noticed? He shoved the thought of Leah's love making out of his mind. She was his sweetheart, his first great love. This woman? He just didn't know. 

They made love there on the sofa, or had sex, he wasn't sure. He only knew he sure loved doing it, and she seemed to like doing it too. Afterward he lay on the sofa while she sat on the floor near his head. He spent the next several hours fiddling with her hair and her neck. He liked her hair. It was dark, thick, soft and easy to ruffle. It always smelled good; she kept it clean and glossy. She sat there and enjoyed the affection. He nuzzled the back of her neck. What was he ever going to do with her?