Chapter 6

Mickey showed up at about five-thirty, and Twyla immediately began dragging him upstairs. "Whoa! Twy, Honey, we don't have to have sex every time we're alone!"

"That's sweet, but what if I want it?" Twyla grinned and tugged on his arm.

Mickey shrugged, and capitulated, but Twyla stopped on the stair and regarded him. "Mickey, what if sometime you wanted it and I didn't? What's fair?"

Mickey blinked. This sounded like one of those female questions that there was no safe answer to, but... "I'd suck it up, I guess. Why?"

"What if I did it regularly? Sometimes to punish you - sometimes, just for the Hell of it. What then?" Twyla pressed.

Yep, the trapdoor was definitely creaking beneath him. Still, best to be honest; he could always beg forgiveness later... "I guess, eventually, we'd have to have it out..."

Twyla rounded on him, "What about if I wanted sex and you didn't?"

"You mean after you rushed me to the hospital to see what had happened to my head?" Mickey replied, but there was a component of bravado to it. Truth to tell, he was one satisfied male! Only youth and vigor were keeping him ahead of the power curve! When he got to be an old guy...

"Well, it could happen..." Twyla eyed him sidelong, and it stung, atop his own thought process...

"Um, well, I'd do my best for you... Where is this going, exactly?"

Twyla didn't reply - she merely tugged him forward again. In her room, after she'd pulled off the tube top she begun affecting when she discovered that the jiggles she made in it interfered with Mickey's chess game, she said, "Mother has a new boyfriend."

Mickey's eyebrows rose, "Really?"

"Well, maybe. She's all confused. Apparently he's wonderful, and even bigger than that!" Twyla squeezed his hard-on through his boxers, "But he wants her to let him run things in the bedroom."

"Huh. Old fashioned?"

"Burnt, apparently," Twyla amplified. "First wife messed with his head, punished him by not giving him any." She paused a second, while Mickey dropped his boxers, then knelt and began to play with his already stone-hard member, "Girls make a big thing about being forced, but for guys, it doesn't seem to be an issue. Is it that important?"

"Uhhh," Mickey's response was delayed while he reacted to the swipe of her tongue across his glans. "It's like you told me, Prom night - you can't rape the willing!" He plopped onto the bed and Twyla knee-walked to him and enveloped his glans, but he knew she was still listening, so he made an effort to be rational, "I'd feel bad if I couldn't be there for you if you wanted it - and I think that's a general attitude, for guys. But I know that not all girls think that way. Many don't - maybe most." He sucked in a breath - concentration was hard... "On the other hand, the woman even really having a say in it is new, historically speaking. Even in this country, a century or so ago, if we were married and you didn't put out on demand, there'd be Hell to pay - and no one, male or female, would say anything unless I was really brutal about it."

Twyla contented herself with jacking Mickey's member while she replied, "Mother thinks this guy's really nice - but this whole thing has her really uptight. Apparently, Dad did whatever he wanted, and she just cooperated and never even thought about it - but the new guy kinda laid it out. He wants her to realize she has a choice. And he wants her to be okay with it."

Mickey hissed, "C'mon, if you're gonna talk..." and slid up onto the bed. Twyla crawled up and straddled him, and there was a pause while they worked at inserting too much penis with too little lubrication. They were used to one another by now, though, and both were aware that she could take it and that she'd be wet before he got too deep. Finally, when he was fully buried and Twyla was slowly rocking, he continued, "At least he's up front about it. I guess it's gonna come down to 'does she trust him not to abuse her?'"

"Ummm," Twyla gave voice to the pleasure Mickey's nearly eight inches was providing, but she was still managing to think. "He freaked her out last night - got her totally wild, then teased her with his prick until he got her to say she was a slut. Mom's freaked, largely because he rubbed her nose in it, and underneath that 'cause she had to admit it, even to herself."

"Well," Mickey puffed, working his hips, "Calling somebody a slut is a little harsh..."

"Well, yeah..." Twyla agreed, "But its all attitude. By Aaron's definition - by yours! - I'm a slut, or we wouldn't be here doing this... I'm not all bent out of shape over it. And it's not like we don't know where it came from..."

Mickey grinned. "Well, maybe, but it seems like maybe it was news to your mother - and having to go public with it..."

Twyla looked coy, "So I'm a slut?"

Mickey responded through a strained grin, "Yeah, but you're MY slut, not public property! Now, quit yakking and pay attention to what your pussy is doing, Slut, and give your man that fuck you insisted on when we got here!"

Twyla feigned offended innocence and stopped moving, "You want me to stop?"

"Twylaaaa!" Mickey reached up, hugged her to him, and rolled the locked system that was the pair of them over, pushed her legs back to her shoulders, and started a serious effort designed to pound her into submission. Twyla sighed and smiled; in her opinion, cowgirl was an overrated position, anyway - best to let her man do what men do. Serious discussion - serious thought - came to a halt for the next forty five minutes, while Mickey engaged in a strenuous, four (female) orgasm proof that he could still cut the mustard...

Marion presented herself in Aaron's cube, just before six. "I, uh, think we need to talk," she announced diffidently, fully aware of the irony implicit in the announcement.

Aaron's lips quirked, but otherwise, he played his cards close to the chest - after all, they were at work, for one thing, and he couldn't be sure what was on her mind, for another, "Okay."

"Do you, uh, have plans?"

"Out of deference for your being... sore, I was planning a quiet evening at home," he murmured. "I didn't get much sleep, either."

"Twyla wants to meet you," Marion offered, "Maybe we could go to my place? I should be able to get her to make something for dinner..."

Aaron nodded agreement, "Okay."

"Meet you here at nine?"

"Sure."

"Um, maybe you should bring clothes?" Marion through over her shoulder, diffidently, unable to look at him. "I'm... not promising anything - and we DO need to talk - but if things go late..."

"Yeah." Aaron grinned, unseen. Fine. The situation might still be in doubt, but there was plenty of maneuvering room. He listened as Marion collected her cart and rolled it past on the way to the kitchenette. Maybe it was time to improve the odds a bit... Popping up, he exited his cube and followed her down the corridor that defined the edge of the cube farm.

Along both walls, there were offices facing the open bay where the cubes were situated. Aaron slid past Marion's cart and wandered down the corridor defined by the wall of offices and the facing row of cubes, looking for occupants and turning into the last office, that of a manager whose habits made his presence after five-thirty an unusual event. On this evening, things went to spec - John wasn't there. Neither were the occupants of the adjoining offices and facing cubes - good. Returning to the cart, Aaron observed, "I'm afraid that there is something back here that will require some additional attention..." waving toward the offices.

"Oh?" Marion turned from the microwave, rag in hand. Certainly, Aaron wasn't - no, he was the soul of discretion - perhaps pointing out some little spill was just his way of getting in a moment's innocent attention... She snatched up a roll of paper towels and followed Aaron back to the office, discovering a dumped-over trash receptacle. 'Surely he didn't do something as silly as... ' Marion's thought process got no further; the door clicked closed, and a pair of large hands settled on her hips.

"Leave that," Aaron directed, "it's unimportant. I'll get it, after - but I saw a woman in need of a kiss..." Marion had risen on contact, and Aaron's hands found instantly erect nipples as they swept upward. He lowered his lips to Marion's neck and they tripled in length in a matter of seconds, while Marion collapsed back against him, moaning.

"You're so bad," she husked, thoroughly surprised and thrilled that he would initiate such an insane action. 'My God! There's a wild man under that reserve!' she realized, as se turned her head without conscious thought, offering her lips.

The tongue duel, once initiated, lasted for fifteen minutes, the clinch broken at the sound of the vacuum cleaner starting on the far side of the bay. Aaron backed off and husked, "I guess you get the can, anyway - you'll need an excuse." Leaning in, he swept his lips over her neck, and murmured, "Be sure to tuck your shirt..." Then he turned and swept out, leaving Marion in a fine disarray. Her golf shirt was rucked up around her midriff, her pants were unbuttoned - half her hair had escaped her ponytail - and she had NO idea how he'd accomplished it all!

Aaron didn't, either - he'd put his hands on autopilot with an order to seek out nipples, and paid attention to his kissing - but his fingers remembered a pair of stiff fleshy spikes. Marion had simplified things no end by wrapping both arms around his neck and not interfering. Aaron smiled to himself as he packed his laptop case; finding Marion was like going to the beach with a metal detector, and instead of finding old beer cans, stumbling upon pirate treasure! Passing Marion on the way to the stair, he ran a knuckle down her spine as she bent to empty a trashcan into her cart's barrel, and murmured, "Nine, then," not stopping to examine effect.

Marion shivered from head to foot, and turning, watched his receding back until he'd rounded the corner. Then she gathered herself and resumed her work. If he kept THIS up, they'd be caught! That much was certain!

Moments later, Lottie, who had been running the vacuum, sidled up, "Did he... touch you? That's not right - we're not here for that..."

Marion manufactured innocence, "What? Lottie! You're seeing things! A- Mr. Morgenthaler is a nice man! He didn't do anything!"

"It looked like..." Lottie was SURE she'd seen him touch her...

"Maybe he just put out his hand as he passed, to make sure I didn't back into him - I felt a breeze... But even if he did, it's no big thing..." Marion passed it off. "Relax; if he were to do something I didn't like, I'd deal with it myself. You worry too much!" Lottie shrugged and moved off, unconvinced, and Marion vowed to herself to warn Aaron to keep his wild man act under wraps at work. But in the meantime...

The phone rang, and Twyla fumbled it with a sweat-slippery hand, "Hello?"

"Hi, Honey, it's Mom," Marion's voice issued from the earpiece. "I've... decided to bring Aaron home. Can you make something for dinner? No need for rocket science - just something we can all eat. I've got to get this... control thing dealt with, one way or the other."

"Mmmm, okay. Chicken?" Twyla sat bolt upright while she shook off the post-orgasmic lassitude. "And can Mickey stay?"

"Chicken's fine, and Mickey CAN stay for dinner - but it's a school night..."

"Umm, that's okay - I think we've got THAT all out of our systems for a bit." She grinned at Mickey, who grinned back. He was sweat-soaked from trying to set some kind of missionary-style record; certainly, Coach Hays had never put that many pushups on him in gym class!

"This way, I'll get another male opinion, too!" Marion replied. "Okay, I'll see you about nine-fifteen. Bye!"

"Bye!" Twyla hung up. "Let's go get a shower, then I have to cook. Mother is bringing her new boyfriend home!"

"I thought that was kinda rocky?" Mickey offered.

"She does, too," Twyla grinned, "but I know better. Whatever it is he's doing, it's all right. She may THINK there's a problem, but she's already decided inside somewhere to give him what he wants, or he wouldn't be coming home with her. She's just trying to save face - and I think she'll get a charge out of him telling her 'No', anyway!"

"Really?"

"Uh huh," Twyla nodded. "I've been thinking about it, and there have been a couple of dead giveaways. You know, she's been working for that service forever, and could be a big boss by now - but she doesn't like being in charge! It's all part of a pattern. She told me earlier that she let Dad do things his way in bed from Day One, and never gave it a thought. And she got all excited about the slut thing, but I don't think it was ALL righteous indignation - I think she got hot thinking about it!"

"Hmmmm," Mickey turned this over. "Well, its weird, but it wouldn't be the first time..."

"Or the last..." Twyla returned, blushing. "The thing that caused me to put it together was the flash I got when YOU called ME slut!" Hopping up to cover her embarrassment, she added, "Let's get that shower!"

"Sure," Mickey grinned, vaulting from the bed. "Lead on... Slut!" A quick pop on the butt accompanied by a squeal put them in motion toward the bathroom.

Aaron waited in the parking lot for Marion, something that caused her some anxiety until she saw his car, engine running and lights on, beside hers from an upstairs window. She went from concern that he wouldn't be there to concern that Lottie would discover that he was in the flick of a mental switch, but managed not to telegraph anything. Once outside in the parking lot, she limited herself to a little beckoning wave, looking around anxiously, then got into her car. Aaron took the hint, and made no major demonstrations, merely starting up and following.

On arrival at Marion's Aaron pulled up behind her, hopped out, and asked, "What's up? You seemed... upset."

Marion turned anxious eyes on him, "The girl who was vacuuming saw you touch my back and got all excited about it! It took some work to get her to forget the whole thing - and I'm not sure I succeeded!" Just remembering made her shaky - but then he was there, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her against him. This was different than before, but every bit as welcome; Marion took to it like a duck takes to water, snuggling in.

Aaron grinned in spite of himself. "Have to be a bit more circumspect, I guess," he rumbled. Marion merely nodded, her head tucked into his shoulder. After a moment, she backed off, and taking his hand, led him into the house.

Dinner was chicken, in a dish with some pasta. Aaron wasn't a big chicken fan, considering it to be tough, stringy, and tasteless, usually, but the daughter, Twyla, had managed to turn it into something decent. Clearly favoring her mother, the younger member of the Banks clan had been gifted with a bit more padding here and there, notably in the bust. Given Marion's obvious sensitivity there, Aaron found he didn't miss it in her - it was decorative, but not required. The boyfriend was quiet; he didn't say two words, but Aaron was well aware that he was being evaluated, and that very quickly, Twyla would have the report. Aaron returned the assessment, both because it would help him to determine Mickey's reaction and because they were both males fishing from the same pool; they would need to deal with one another, one way or the other. Aaron facilitated things by treating Mickey like an adult; he and Twyla were displaying all of the earmarks of high romance, but they appeared to be dealing with one another on other levels, too, which Aaron felt said good things about the boy. Mickey noticed, and it brightened the color of his appraisal of the older man. The women watched this activity, half amused, and half concerned for the issues that might arise if they couldn't get along - but amusement won out as it became apparent that there were no immediate problems.

Mickey and Twyla disappeared upstairs for a bit after dinner, but Mickey was quickly back down the stairs and out the door, despite a touching scene on the steps. Aaron lounged in the kitchen while Marion picked up, and they retired to the living room couch.

"So, we're talking, then?" Aaron opened things.

"Uh huh," Marion tried to keep diffidence from her voice - and failed. "I think we need to talk about this control thing."

"Okay," Aaron murmured, sliding his right hand over Marion's left. He was careful not to be too demonstrative - that would be obvious. No, there was a time to be sneaky - and this was it... She was obviously chewing on something, so he prodded, "Go on."

"I'm concerned that if I have no control at all, there could be abuse."

"Abuse?" Aaron's eyebrows rose. "Anything in particular?"

"Well, uh, no," Marion replied. She was uneasy, but the whole thing was kind of amorphous.

"Were there any set limits in your previous relationship? Did he make demands that you refused to fulfill?" Aaron prompted.

"Ummm, no - but Ed wasn't terribly inventive. We, uh, exceeded Ed's usual repertoire last night, I think."

"I see. Did you deny him often?"

"No."

"During your period, perhaps?"

"No."

"No?" Aaron's interest was piqued. "That's a fairly normal reason..."

"I'd... just clean up as best I could. Ed didn't seem to care..." Marion blushed.

"Headache? Other ailments?"

"No... I'd just take a Tylenol. Sex seemed to... help."

"And you had sex how often?" Aaron pressed.

"Regularly. Every day or two. Whenever he..." Marion realized she'd just stuck her foot in her mouth, but couldn't really pull it back out, "... wanted it."

Aaron just looked at her, and Marion felt the ship containing the justification for her discontent slipping beneath the waves. In desperation, she wailed, "But he wasn't as demanding as you are!"

Aaron raised his eyebrows. "Really? How so? From what I can tell, he EXPECTED your complete compliance - and he got it, without even THIS amount of confrontation. How was he different? What did you two do?"

"Uhhh," Shit! Shit! SHIT! Howcum things were going so badly? "We had sex - usually missionary style - or doggie. And I gave him head. Sometimes - not often - he did me..."

"Anal sex?" Aaron prompted.

"No," Marion replied, eyeing Aaron sidelong, "I don't think it ever occurred to him."

Aaron's face displayed nothing, but inside, he laughed, 'It occurred to YOU, though, didn't it?' "So you're a virgin, anally?"

"Yes! THAT's what I'm talking about! You're going to want... more..." Marion really had no concept, but they'd gotten there; THIS was the basis for her concern!

"If Ed had expressed an interest, what would you have done?" Aaron asked, coolly.

"I-" Dammit! He's done it again! "I'd have... knelt up," Marion admitted, her face fire-engine red.

"I know," Aaron shrugged. "You offered it to me last night, and you didn't think twice. I'm missing the problem, Dear."

"Well," Marion rose gamely to the attack, "Let's talk about last night! About that slut thing! Just because I got over-excited ONCE after going without FOREVER, that makes me a slut?"

Aaron's lip quirked. "I took advantage of your response pattern to make a point and perhaps close off this discussion," he admitted. "Do you claim that that is not your normal pattern?"

"Uh," Marion had been on the verge of enthusiastic agreement when it occurred to her that she might be about to lie. "I don't know."

"Let me put it another way," Aaron said gently, reaching across to caress her cheek, "Is it worth the effort of the regular self-denial necessary to prove your point? I understand that I trod on your dignity with big, muddy feet, but do you REALLY want to have to exercise the kind of control it will take to prove me a liar?"

Marion pouted. How on Earth had he tripped her up again? Either she admitted to being a slut, or she had to be frigid for the rest of their relationship! Obviously, under those conditions, that wouldn't be long... Besides, COULD she? Marion honestly didn't know - and didn't want to find out! "Well, no. I'm not saying I am, but IF I am, you rubbed my nose in it, pretty bad! Are you going to do that kind of thing regularly?"