Chapter 5

Karen showed up at about a quarter to twelve -- long after I realized belatedly that she must be pulling a double. Pete and I were on the couch watching one of those late-night guys when the doorbell rang. I got up and opened the door and there she stood, looking ragged and smelling smoky. "I hope it was worth it," I muttered.

"Me, too," she croaked. "Where is Petey?"

"Pete," I replied gruffly, "is in watching TV. Do you have ANY IDEA what calling him Petey does to his self-image?" I backed up to let her in.

She grimaced. "Stupid of me, isn't it?"

"Well, now that you mention it..." She was carrying a fast food bag. "Is that supper?"

"Yeah."

"French fries suck, cold. Want to heat them in the microwave?"

"That would be nice, but I need to go home and soak..."

"So you have a hot tub?" I asked innocently.

"No..."

"I do..." I waggled my eyebrows.

"Um, yeah ... Cletus? Are you wearing anything under that towel?"

"Do you want the long version or the short version?"

"I'm too tired for the long version."

"Then I'll limit myself to 'Nope.' You know, if you asked me I might even throw in a back rub."

"You're a bad person, tempting me with bubbles and a back rub. What evil plans do you have for me once you have me all relaxed and receptive?"

I chuckled. "From the way you're asking that question, you already know the answer."

"Cletus," she sighed, "I couldn't possibly. Quite aside from the fact that I cannot possibly expose my fat, ugly body to your lecherous gaze, my son is in the next room."

"He's asleep," I lied, hoping he was listening. "Besides, you can keep your virtue if you insist -- but don't tell me you don't need that dip."

"You're right -- I do, but..." She stepped over to the TV room door. Pete wasn't laughing at the jokes... "Well, he IS asleep..."

I wondered whether he was faking it or not -- but it didn't really matter, as long as it removed an objection. "We need to talk about him, anyway. I don't want to pretend to know it all about parenting, but he's got problems."

"It's that bad?"

"I think so."

"Okay, I'll use the microwave. Got any salt?"

A couple of minutes later, she was settled and gnawing on her burger and fries. "So..."

"You're aware of the usual sexual orientation of mama's boys, right?" I asked.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Well..." I gathered my thoughts. "He's not getting much respect, is he? Kate rides him pretty hard, I hear, and he's still your little boy at fourteen. He's catching a lot of crap at school -- and the only group that accepts him -- even reluctantly -- is males. That makes them easy to gravitate to. Where's his old man?"

"Gone. Long gone. Pete -- uh, Peter was more or less my last-ditch effort to save our marriage -- and it failed," Karen replied. "Peter has never really had a father."

"Well, he needs SOMETHING," I told her. "Space, maybe. Some respect at home. I'd suggest sports, but he looks as uncoordinated as I was at his age. A girlfriend would be ideal..."

"What?"

"Let's look at the women in his life," I argued. "You're his mama. Every boy's mama is perfect -- and he has no yardstick to compare you to others, and no one else even close to being as important. He idolizes you -- but he resents being smothered. Then there's his sister -- to whom he's a nuisance. Other girls ignore him totally or give him shit for his issues ... He needs to break that cycle."

"You make it sound like he needs to have sex..."

"It might avert a crisis," I pointed out. "There are other possibilities -- like, for instance, discovering his mama has feet of clay like everybody else."

"That wouldn't be my first choice."

"Excuse me?" I pretended confusion. "I just meant that you could reveal the occasional mistake -- or maybe ask his advice."

"Oh." Karen collected the various papers that had wrapped her dinner and wadded the bag. "I should probably get him home."

"He's fine where he is," I argued. "I've never seen a kid drink in male companionship like he has. YOU, on the other hand, still look like shit."

"Thanks," Karen snarled.

"Quit farting around and go into my bathroom and put your ass under the shower. There are some big-ass towels in there -- come out wearing one and I'll direct you to the Jacuzzi. We can continue this conversation there."

"Why should I?"

"Because you feel bad and you smell bad and when you come out of YOUR shower, it'll still be hot and steamy -- that's why."

"You're sure bossy!"

"I'm surrounded by cantankerous women. Why on Earth do you INSIST on suffering?" I asked.

"Look, I know what you want..." Karen accused.

"Okay, then -- that's out of the way. You can't avoid it?" I prodded. "Why don't you show me your superior powers of resistance? I don't rape my women -- you'll go willingly, or not at all. Can't you operate like that? What do I have to do -- tie a hand behind my back?"

"This is a trap," Karen muttered suspiciously.

"Yup -- but it's got a NICE fur lining!" I chuckled. "All you have to do is be as incorruptible as you THINK you are and you'll leave here unsullied -- but cool, clean, and relaxed. If you discover you're not, well ... How long has it been since you paid the terrible price of failure, anyway?"

"THAT is none of your business!" Karen waggled a finger -- but she'd stopped looking irritated.

"That long, huh?" I grinned.

"Cletus Putnam, you are an evil man!" Karen declared, standing. "Where are these so-called big-ass towels?"

"Right this way, Madame..." I led her off to the bathroom. While she was getting clean, I checked on Pete -- who WAS asleep. I moved him just enough to keep him from getting stiff in places and threw an afghan over him and turned off the TV -- then I went into my office and fired up the surveillance system. I was going to win this battle -- and when I did, I would present Pete with a trophy that would free him from at least one of his problems...

"All right, lead on," Karen announced herself a few minutes later. "Show me this miracle of relaxation."

"Follow me." I'd uncovered the tub and it was bubbling merrily. It had four seating areas. "You want to use that one," I told her, pointing at one of the four stations.

"Look the other way," she directed.

I sighed, but followed instructions. "Are you settled?" I asked, after a moment.

"Yes."

"Good." I went to the controls and made an adjustment.

"Oh! Omigod! Stop!" Karen shrieked.

"Something wrong?" I asked innocently, turning the offending jet down, but not off.

"I was right -- you're evil!"

"Okay." I shucked my towel and settled opposite her. "Felt good, though, didn't it?"

"I refuse to answer that..."

"You're ALREADY incriminated," I chuckled.

"Mmmm, whatever." I hadn't shut it off -- and she KNEW I hadn't. What she DIDN'T know was that the jet on her clit would slowly increase in intensity over the next few minutes. "About Peter..."

"Wine?" I asked as I poured myself a glass.

"We were going to discuss..."

"And we will. You're SUPPOSED to be relaxing!" I retorted.

"And you're SUPPOSED to be giving me a back rub!"

"So I am," I muttered, climbing back out of the tub. "Now, about the wine..."

"All right. It won't do you any good."

"It's not there to do ME good, it's there to do YOU good! You need to relax!" I retorted, pouring.

"Yeah, yeah. Uuh!" she nearly dropped the glass when I dug into her shoulders. "About Peter..."

"He needs a break," I declared. "If he sees women as unattainable and incomprehensible, he could take the path of least resistance."

"That sounds bad."

"Well, if you don't mind his being gay..."

"I'll accept whatever he does, but I'd prefer that he wasn't. Oogh! That's..." I was kneeling on the edge of the tub -- which wasn't comfortable. Karen was leaning forward to let me work.

"This is better done on a massage table," I told her. "It's kind of painful here. Why don't you let the water do its work and if you want that rub we'll do it after?"

"Okay."

"Settle back..." I reached under her arms to collect her breasts while pulling her back against the tub.

"You sneak." She wasn't complaining.

"Yeah, I'm evil." I let go reluctantly and circled around to slide into the tub again. Seats on my side alternated with seats on hers, so I settled on her right and picked up her right leg to rub the sole of her foot. She wiggled a little bit to make sure that jet was properly positioned. I could read her mind; she was thinking 'I can enjoy this without letting things get out of hand... ' -- and I knew that made it two against one, because half of her had already been subverted and was lulling the other half.

I made the foot rub good while saying, "What Pete needs is some control over his life -- and some respect. Little shit like asking his opinion occasionally -- and deferring to it -- will help him get a little self-respect. Optimally, we need to get you down off your pedestal -- which is a great place for you to be, but isn't doing him any good. Having you defer to ANY man in his presence would be a good thing -- are you seeing anybody?"

"What? No! I thought this was about Peter?"

"It is," I replied pedantically. "I take it you're NOT seeing anyone. The point is that you're projecting the idea that you don't need a man -- and that includes him. How long has it been?"

"Cletus! Can we get back to Peter?"

"Why are you not listening to me?" I asked, looking pained. "This is RELEVANT!" I knew what her problem was -- her pussy was telling her 'Listen to the man -- I need a dick!' "Have you EVER entertained a man in his presence?" I pressed.

"Entertained?"

"Just dated -- I'm not asking if he's watched you fuck. But that's not something he has to see to know it's happening. Well?"

"N-no..." She was riding that jet, now -- you could see it in her face. The talk kept reminding her how long it had been and the water poured over her clit and bubbled around her and the sensations kept getting more and more intense. She floundered a bit, but I had her leg in the air -- she wasn't going far.

"Something wrong?" I asked.

"N-no." She couldn't bring herself to admit to me that an orgasm was hovering close.

"Good," I said, leaning up to take her foot on my shoulder so I could lean in and run my hand up the inside of her leg, "I was afraid you were getting uncomfortable and I want you to relax." My fingers reached her pussy and slid between the puffy lips and her eyes bulged and rolled up in her head, "AAAAAHHHHH!!!" She started undulating, so I let her leg slide down to drape across my forearm -- but I didn't surrender her clit... "Omigod! Omigod! Fuck! Fuck!" she gasped as her ass bounced in her seat. Then she flopped back and I used my fingers to open her pussy lips so the jet could spray all along her quivering crack. "You sonofabitch," she gasped.

"I probably am one," I agreed. "Tell me you didn't need that. How long HAS it been?"

"Shut up!" She reached up and pulled me in for a kiss. I collected a handful of nipple in my off hand and started tweaking it. She was hungry; we weren't stopping here. Her lips and tongue were demanding, wanting, needing ... She broke the kiss and whispered, "Where?"

"Where what?"

"Don't be mean. You win -- I surrender. Where?"

"I like beds, but we're soaking wet. How about that lounger over there?"

'Fine. Help me up." Fifteen seconds later I had her legs over my elbows and was rubbing my cock between her cunt lips. "Easy," she gasped, "It's been forever..." But she was hot and wet and her twat wanted me in the worst way, so it wasn't all that difficult getting in. I put my ass in gear and started drilling for pussy juice; Karen started singing "Oh!" every time my pubic bone hit hers.

I hit three gushers before my balls started to twitch and I let go of a load; if it hadn't been for that session with the boys earlier, I might not have done as good a job, because Karen's pussy was good shit and she was NOT a dead lay. When it was over and we lay there, sweating and panting, she rubbed her face with her hand and mumbled, "I'd forgotten just how good that feels. Shit, now I'm addicted again."

"I keep a supply on hand," I advised her, grinning, "for friends who drop by."

"I'm not protected," she muttered.

"I've been cut," I assured her. "All of us professional gigolos get cut. I'd have two hundred kids if I didn't." I didn't mention the fact that many of them would have been deliberate attempts to snag me via paternity.

She slumped. "One less worry."

"Okay, really, how long HAS it been?"

"Years," Karen sighed. "I was on the wagon. When I fall off, well, I'm dependent, so I get stupid and try to run man-traps -- and the worse things go, the more desperate I get ... Either I do without or I turn into a total tramp. It's been a LOOONG time -- Peter's never seen me fall off the wagon."

"So he's in for an interesting time," I mused.

"You're too good -- it's gonna be a while before I can get the genie back in the bottle," Karen whispered. "And I'm gonna chase you shamelessly."

"Do you get jealous?"

"With my looks?" She sighed. "I just get more eager to please." Her eyes grew distant. "I've done some crazy stuff..."

"Really?"

"Don't ask."

"But did you enjoy it?"

"Yeah, at the time. Later, I was disgusted sometimes."

"Didn't you have to be, more or less, in order to shut it off?" I probed.

Karen shook her head, her face screwed up. "Where are you going with this?"

"Is it about being married, or about having someone else run things?" I asked.

"I don't see how they're that different..."

"I do," I told her. "If you want someone else to be in charge of your life -- especially your sex life -- that's not marriage, by and large. But there ARE people who will do that shit -- me, for instance."

"I don't understand."

"You don't stand a snowball's chance in Hell of marrying me," I told her. "That's straight up. But I WILL OWN your ass, until one or both of us gets tired of it."

"What? You'll OWN me?"

"Yup. You do what I say, when I say it. You jump when I yell frog. In return, I take care of you."

"How?"

"What do you want? A husband -- or protection, approval, and a feeling of security?" I asked.

"Well, I want a husband because he's supposed to..." She waved an arm.

"In today's world, that's not the job of a husband," I told her. "Husbands are supposed to actualize their spouses and be their equal -- or less. To get what you want, you have to volunteer to accept a subordinate position -- which is not the modern thing to do. You don't want a husband -- you want a master. You want somebody who tells you what to do -- and takes responsibility for it, so all you have to do is what you're told -- right?"