Bill Pierce noticed Carolyn come up from the choir-robing room wearing what was now definitely her best dress. It was flowing, not blatantly announcing her pregnancy, but Gladys had guessed -- in front of half the choir -- the first time she saw it. He moved to a table with two empty chairs. Richard and Judy Grant, their son Pete, and their daughter Marilyn were at the table. Pete was a freshman in high school and Marilyn was a senior, nearly two decades over the age of kids he enjoyed dealing with. Still, he thought it only civil to at least talk with the older kids. And neither looked their age. Marilyn, in particular, was small enough so that he could pick her up and lift her to the ceiling. If he tried, he'd make four enemies, five counting Carolyn, but the physical effort wouldn't be that great. Pete, heavier and inches taller, could still pass for a sixth grader.

Beatrice was walking now, which meant that she was running. She ran over to him, was lifted up towards the ceiling, and ran back to Lily and the gooey pastry that was the food for this coffee hour. He held a seat for Carolyn and then sat himself. Grace Benton got up to make an announcement. She was one of the perennial honchos of the UMW.

"If I might have your attention, please. The fall rummage sale is coming up. It's Friday night, November 22nd and Saturday, November 23d, This year, to make it more convenient for everybody, we are going to start setting up on Wednesday evening. So bring the clothes and other articles you no longer want Wednesday night after eight and Thursday night after six. That's Wednesday the 20th and Thursday the 21st. We need help moving tables, so any strong men that can come are needed on Wednesday from six to eight."

Marilyn, a girl who normally had the sort of pretty smile that so many high-school girls sport, looked agonized and ugly.

"I tried to tell them, dear," Judy said.

"If only they'd asked." Marilyn sounded close to tears.

"What's wrong?" Bill asked. Pretty girls shouldn't cry, it ruined their faces. Besides, the rummage sale wasn't a disaster, it marked the season.

"That Wednesday is MYF meeting night -- right here. They're going to set up the rummage sale -- right here." The location he knew. He didn't patronize the sale, seldom even had anything to contribute, but he knew where they held it. For that matter, neither group had all that much choice. "If they'd <b>asked</b> we could have moved our date. It would have been something we contributed, after all. Instead, they waited until after our last meeting to announce that they were taking over. MYF can't even offer, 'cause we don't meet before that night."

"Well, dear," Judy said, "I only heard about it last night, myself. I pointed out that there was a conflict, and Grace said that she was sure that the MYF would be glad to cooperate."

"If she'd <b>asked</b>, we would have. But now I have to call everybody and tell them. Tell them what? I'm not entitled to change the date or location without a vote." At that point, he remembered that Marilyn was president of the MYF.

"Well," Carolyn said as they were driving home, "I should get some things together for the sale. Two pairs of jeans, for starters."

"Would you mind waiting 'til the next one?"

"Bill, I'm never going to fit into those jeans again, let alone next spring." Around the time of the spring rummage sale, she'd be nine months pregnant.

"Yeah, but I don't want to cooperate in any way with pushing kids around. That sucks."

"Well, I'm sure they didn't mean anything. They just didn't think." He was less sure. Certainly, they may not have known the dates of the MYF meeting. He hadn't. But Judy had told them, probably at a meeting of the UMW. You can respond, "Conflict, oh we'll have to adjust"; you can respond, "Conflict, oh <b>they</b> will have to adjust." And that makes all the difference.

"Fine. Can you hold on to the things for one more season? We still have a large apartment."

"Sure."

Still, this would be an unnoticeable bit of noncooperation. He had seldom contributed and never shopped there. He didn't have many places to wear clothes that weren't new and fitted to him. Carolyn, who wore jeans and sweatshirts, had bought almost no clothes before her pregnancy -- new or used. After dinner, he got out his typewriter.

<blockquote>Dear Mrs. Benton,<br>I would be glad to help set up tables for the rummage sale. However, the room won't be available until the MYF meeting, which occurs on that night, is over. Please have Marilyn Grant, the president of MYF, call me when that meeting is over. I'll come to help set up then, however late.</blockqouote>

He signed it and put his phone number. Then he wrote a cover letter suggesting others join his boycott. He made a list of fathers of high-school age kids from the church directory. He added a couple of personal friends, including Dan. He showed his work to Carolyn.

"One thing I know," she told him. "You don't fight the UMW."

"What are they going to do to me? Keep me off the finance committee?" He'd been asked to serve, and had agreed. After all, he'd promised the church some service. If they decided that they didn't want him, he'd be happy.

"You don't fight the UMW." And, of course, she was right. You don't fight the UMW and win. On the other hand, he wasn't trying to win. He was saying "Shame on you!"

He took his letters to the office on Monday, and had them copied. He bought some envelopes and stamps and addressed them Monday and Tuesday nights. Then he mailed them Wednesday. He'd sent one to Dan, and they were standing together on Sunday when Grace Benton came up to him.

"Really, Bill, you haven't helped in the past." Which was true.

"True enough. I'm planning to reform. But I don't want to stand around Wednesday night waiting for the MYF to end up. They're a regularly-scheduled meeting -- second Wednesday in the month -- and regularly-scheduled meetings take precedence." He didn't say, 'you old bat,' but he thought it.

"Well, Dan, you'll be there won't you?"

"Sorry. Gladys told me about the sale, but we both thought set-up would be on Thursday, as it always is. I've got something else planned for Wednesday -- class prep."

"Well I never..." And she walked away.

"Well," Dan said, "you kicked over the hornet's nest that time. How many letters did you send out, anyway?"

"Two dozen, maybe a little less. I'd hoped you'd sign on to my boycott."

"Gladys is an active member of UMW. She told me I couldn't. She also told me I had something else to do on Wednesday night. You know, it's not all that long ago that our kids were active in MYF."

"So you're a passive supporter?"

"So I have unfortunate but inescapable commitments for that Wednesday night."

"Since when is class prep inescapable?"

"Gladys suggested washing my hair. I hadn't thought about an excuse until just now. What's your dog in that fight, anyway?"

"You don't push kids around. Washing your hairs would be believable; tell her you wash them one at a time. What do you think the outcome will be?"

"Nobody can tell. I'll tell you this, I'm by far the younger of the two guys who set up tables last time. And, set-up on Thursday is the way we always do it." That was a powerful argument -- 'let's do it like last time.'

"We'll see."

"But, really, if they put it off to Thursday, you really should show up."

"I will. After all, I can drive Carolyn to choir practice. How much work are we talking about, anyway? Ten tables? What does that take?"

"With the two of us, twenty minutes, max."

And the decision was that set up for the rummage sale would be Thursday, as usual. When he got Carolyn there, Marilyn was there with Doug, another MYF member. Andy Taylor, a new kid from MYF, and Dan and Gladys showed up before they actually began work. Bruce Ferguson, a stooped, white-haired man was there, too, but he didn't insist on carrying tables. Dan, who'd done it before with Bruce, got them organized.

"Doug, why don't you work with me? You -- Andy is it? -- can work with Bill. Mrs. Benton, why don't you stand where you want the next table to go. Copying Dan's method, Bill held the table on its end while Andy pulled out and locked its legs. Then he swung it over and set it down. They each took an end and carried it to where it was needed. Natural competitiveness set in, and the two teams raced discretely. Mrs. Benton was hard pressed to get to the next location before the table did. In the end, there were twelve tables arranged to Mrs. Benton's wishes. Doug disappeared out the door when the heavy work was done. Bill suspected he was afraid of being assigned to sorting clothes. He walked over to where Marilyn and Andy were in conversation.

"Mr. Pierce," Marilyn said, "I can't say how grateful I am." Mrs. Benton looked daggers. Probably the gratitude sounded too much like it was for the letter instead of for the hauling.

"Nothing. You guys on foot?" Each nodded. "Stick around until Carolyn gets out of choir practice, and I'll give you rides home." They both looked agreeable, and he went out to get Carolyn's bag of rummage.

He took it over to Grace and the other women who were laying things out. Grace looked disdainfully at the offerings.

"You take sheets don't you?" Carolyn had held back the old blanket at the last minute. Something about the baby's needing something to crawl on.

"Yes. What's wrong with them?" She hadn't asked what was wrong with any other donations, and there was a discrete table where the stuff too bad to sell was stored until somebody hauled it out to the dumpster.

"Twin bed. We use a double now." He was going to be polite. After all, he'd won. She looked equally dubious at the first set of jeans.

"Don't know who'd want that."

"Mrs. Benton!" Marilyn was looking now. "Those are wonderful." She held them against her body. "If they'd fit me, I'd take them in a minute."

"They look like you could get into them easily."

"Too easily. This sort of jeans is supposed to take a shoe horn." When he pulled the blouse out of the bag, Marilyn turned away. "If Mrs. Pierce's jeans don't fit me, I'm not even going to look at her top. Some of us have it, and some of us don't."

"I think your shape looks great." That came from Andy, and then both the kids blushed. Well? so that was the way it was. Pair of nice kids, too.

"Andy," he said to keep his notice of those blushes from being blatant, "you have to learn something of female rules. They want you to notice their shapes -- do you think her admiration of the blouse was because she thought it would keep her warm?" The blouse in question was sheer with a generous neckline. "But noticing doesn't mean mentioning. Anyway, let's go over here out of the way."

And they, including Marilyn who had previously been drafted into carrying clothes from one decision-maker to another, followed him off into a corner. Carolyn came in from choir practice sometime afterwards. Gladys was with her. As usual, he noticed Carolyn as soon as she came into sight.

"Hah!" said Carolyn when she'd got close. "Should have known, let you alone for a few minutes, and I find you talking with a pretty girl."

"I think Dan's lurking in the car, Gladys. Andy's here too, dear. I'm not just talking to Marilyn."

"Of course," Carolyn said, "Marilyn wouldn't have stuck around if there weren't somebody interesting to talk to." They went out the door, and he gestured the kids in the direction of the car. Andy, at least, didn't know which car was theirs.

"Marilyn," he said. "Sometime when your education is over and you're out in the business world, you're likely to have a boss who tells you that his wife doesn't understand him. Don't give him the least sympathy. <b>My</b> wife understands me, and it's pure hell." Carolyn, who was the intended audience, laughed. The kids looked like it had flown over their heads.

"I'll have to ask you guys to sit in back," he said when they got to the car. "Sorry."

"I'm so grateful," Marilyn said again when the car had started. "It's nice to have one adult in the church who doesn't think of us as a bunch of kids." Carolyn laughed.

"You got the wrong person for that, Marilyn. Bill's objection was that they were pushing kids around. If they'd have shoved the kindergarten class of the Sunday School aside, he'd have dropped a stink bomb on the next UMW meeting.

"I'm just as glad that we're driving you back," she went on without pause. "What's your address again?" Marilyn gave it. "I know that nothing bad ever happens in the neighborhood, but there can be a first time. Andy, would you mind walking her to her door when we get there?" When Marilyn started to protest. "I know. Just to keep an old woman from worrying."

When they got to Marilyn's house and the two kids had walked up to the door, He turned to her. "Vapors about her going home alone? Why didn't you invite them to the apartment, lock them in your office, and not let them out 'til they pass out their clothes?"

"Bill, you have no romance in your soul. They're not at a stage to get their clothes off -- except with the boy's eyes, which have accomplished that already. They are two nice kids who need a few minutes more in each others' company. Shh! He's coming back.

"And where do you live, Andy?" she asked. He told her and apologized for making them drive out of their way. "That's fine. Ladies first is the rule."

"She was nice," said Andy. "Much nicer than she is at meetings." Then Carolyn gave him some advice. She went on while he was parked outside Andy's house. "Thanks," said Andy finally. "Thanks to both of you."

"Well," she told him when they were back in the apartment, "you took on the UMW, and you won."

"Great victory -- a coven of old bats."

"Hey! Gladys is active, and I'll be officially joining when they start asking."

"But Gladys and you weren't behind this. A few old bats were. C'mere." They shared a nice kiss, and he followed it up with a kiss somewhere between her belly button and her mound. A spare kiss for the baby had become almost a custom. As an old, married couple, they mostly removed their own clothes. This night, however, he began on hers. She allowed this operation without trying to reciprocate. When he got her jeans down, he spent some time kissing her pregnancy before removing the pantyhose and panties.

They still took separate bathroom times. He was just as happy this night; it was difficult enough to point his dick downward without her actual presence. When they met in bed, they resumed their kiss. He explored her mouth.

"You seem extra eager tonight," she said when he moved from her mouth to her pregnancy. "Were you inspired by the love birds?"

Some questions, he'd already learned, it doesn't pay a married man to answer. Anyway, he had better uses for his mouth. She smelled ready enough for a direct approach. He raised her knees with his hand to give himself easier access. He kissed her thighs while spreading them apart. Soon, he got to her center.

He licked the lips of her snatch, then teased her nub with his tongue. When she tensed, he put his mouth around it and hummed. She went over -- it seemed to him that she went over for a longer than usual time as he kept humming. When she relaxed, he went back to kissing her thighs. As her breathing eased, he alternated licks with his kisses.

Moving to her center, he spread her outer lips, and then her inner ones, with his fingers. He licked up the inside of one inner lip and then the other, always stopping short of her nub. She tensed.

"Please, Bill." He licked her nub. She tensed again, and he went back to licking the lips. "Please!" He sucked the nub until she went over, and then rode her center as it rose and fell. He continued sucking as well as he could until she sank back in the bed. He licked the lips once more. When she grabbed his shoulders, he resisted for a moment longer, still licking her inner lips.

"Please, I need you." Well, he needed her, too. He moved up her body until he was on his straight arms looking into her face while his dick was poised at her entrance. He watched her expression as he thrust slowly forward into her snatch.

Its warm smoothness was arousing, but no more arousing than the expression of pleasure on her face. As he drove in and out and she rose to welcome him and match his rhythm, her expression turned from pleasure to worry to pain. He legs came up to grip him, and she planted her feet on his calves. As her thrusts upward matched his thrusts downward in ferocity, she looked agonized. Then her snatch clutched around his driving cock.

He let his left arm collapse as his hips pushed his cock as deep into her snatch as it could go. He poured himself out into her clasping welcome as they fell onto their sides. The lay entangled as her continuing rhythmic grip milked the last drops from him.

"Love you," he said long after. He began to extricate himself.

"Love you, too," she answered after he'd clicked off the lamp. She rolled against him, and they nestled into the spoon. He reached down to smooth over her pregnancy. Then she pulled his arm up between her melons. She hugged his arm until he fell asleep.