Chapter 41: Various Negotiations

Ed slammed his door then stood in the middle of the room rubbing the shoulder he'd nearly jerked out of it's socket propelling Velma into the room. "Awright, so, where were we? Oh, yeah What the fuck you doin' makin' itty bitty taps on my door at this hour in a nightie?"

"Ah already tol' ya -- Ah wanna know if'n yo' goin' be bustin' inta mah rooms agin' any time soon!"

"So, are ya beggin' or complainin'? You was takin' your time answerin'..."

Velma manufactured outrage, standing with her hands on her hips, "A gal cain't be answerin' a question lahk dat! Neithah one, Ah guess..."

Ed eyed the big woman in disbelief. "But you needed to know so bad you come to my place in a nightie? Shit, half the household is gonna know by mornin'!"

"Fook." Velma looked away.

"Yeah, just exactly," Ed grunted. "Ya pretty well tipped your hand, ya silly bitch." NOW, what the fuck? "I'm gonna assume you're beggin'..." What kind of bullshit story was he gonna have to come up with to get her out of his hair?

Velma opened her mouth to give vent to outrage, then shut it. After a moment, she sighed, "Waal, Ah ain't too good at dis shit. No practice."

Ed grunted. "Me neither. We're a fine fuckin' pair..."

"Mebbe Ah oughta go..."

"Naw. Phillippe's probably all alert over there -- you come poppin' outta here, an' you might as well put up a billboard. Park your ass on the couch fer a bit -- we'll watch the tube until shit settles down. Wanna beer?"

"Ah cain't drink. Makes me stupid." Ed just eyed her. "Yah, awright. One, mebbe." She settled her frame on the couch -- which suddenly seemed to shrink.

Ed headed for the refrigerator, cudgeling his brain. What he OUGHT to do was put her big ass out in the hall like Fred Flintstone did to Dino, dust his hands and call it a night! Instead, her big ass was parked on his couch, and he was crackin' her a beer -- like he was tryin' to seduce her, or somethin'... He pulled two cans of Bud out of the fridge and stood there a moment, looking at her. That silly-assed nightshirt squashed her big jugs against her body to the point that you couldn't see anything else, with her seated like that; her heavy thighs covered her twat, even with her knees open some -- no way he could tell from here if she was wearin' panties -- she'd have to spread 'em WIDE... That cunt, though -- it was probably the smallest thing on her, and it was some of the best shit he'd ever poked! Idly, he wondered if he could convince her to up some ass, too...

"Whatchew lookin at?" Velma asked, looking up from the TV.

"You're takin' up mosta that direction," Ed rasped. "Want any chips, or anything?"

"Ah shouldn't eat."

'No shit!' Ed brought the cans over and popped the tops, handing Velma hers, then wedged himself in on her left.

Velma took a sip and wrinkled her nose, "Dis is dog piss!"

"Yeah." Ed shrugged. "I'm jus' leachin' the alcohol out of it, an' I drink quite a bit, so I go cheap."

"Y'all a boozer, den?" Velma eyed him sidelong.

"Naw, just need something to put me ta sleep."

"Dey's otha things..."

'Like pussy?' "I don't do pills."

Velma grunted -- almost screwed that one up. "Whatchew watchin' heah?"

"Dunno." Ed shrugged. He'd been surfing. "I like movies. Network shit is, well, shit. But I come on this in the middle." He'd been planning on checking out that edgy series about a cathouse on HBO in a few... Now, who knew? Here he was, in his own place, leaned up and holdin' his beer with both hands sittin' next to a hippo, explaining his TV viewing habits... He settled back and gingerly draped his right arm on the couch back.

Velma gave him a glance and took up a deeper slouch. Dammit! If she was a regular gal, he'd be able ta get at a nipple with a li'l work! But her tits was squashed down an' her nipples was down next to her belly button... How da fook was she gonna give him anythin'? "Dis thing looks romantical."

Ed hadn't REALLY planned to go fooling with her -- he was just trying to get comfortable on his chunk of couch! But there she was, doin' her best to roll out the welcome mat... Silly bitch was TOTALLY transparent! "I don't do romance, but I can watch others do it." Of course, he REALLY hit the booze when he did -- loneliness could be a real bitch...

"Yah. Me, too."

They sat there for a bit, Velma watching the movie but waiting for Ed to do something, and Ed wrestling with himself. If he messed with the silly hippo, she'd probably get all lovey-dovey, and he'd look like a goddamn idiot. On the other hand, having access to that juicy cunt on a regular basis... What was the old saw about fat women? 'Heat in winter, shade in summer, and a soft place to lay down year 'round... ' How bad was she, really? She wasn't ugly; she was black, and sometimes black girls didn't do it for him, but she didn't have any of the things that usually shut him down... She was fuckin' huge, but he'd really had no problem working around that the other night... Apparently, she'd enjoyed it, or she wouldn't be sittin' here... Everything negative about the situation seemed to have to do with admitting they were fucking in public -- and it was BOUND to get out! It was kinda like riding a Honda -- great until your Harley- riding friends found out... Could she keep it under wraps? And for how long? Awww, fuck -- he was kiddin' himself -- it'd be all over the house in a couple of days, and he'd start takin' shit. On the other hand, it was probably out there, already, so he might as well enjoy the benefits... A lot of the downside had to do with 'relationship shit' -- he didn't know how to be nice to a woman, and he was too old to start learning! To date, all of Ed's 'relationships' had been more or less cash and carry -- it's all he REALLY had any experience with! Oh, sure, he'd picked up a few desperate bitches in bars at one time or another -- so he knew what things could degenerate to -- but mostly it was hookers and such. Hand her some cash, climb on, stroke 'til it feels good, and 'Bye, Honey. Come back when you have more money!' The Boss was good about importing some talent every couple months -- Hell, then you didn't even have to pay for it! Velma wasn't likely to act like that -- and that brought complications. Maybe they could set ground rules...

All of this back and forth rumination took a bit. In the meantime, Velma was pulling at her beer, and Ed's right hand found her neck and her springy hair. The movie had moved into the obligatory revealed lies, misunderstandings, and unrequited love; Velma's eyes were wet. Ed grunted, "About here, I go looking for a sex flick. I ain't no better at it, but it don't tear up your guts..."

"Yah? Mebbe..."

Ed changed the channel to the sexual documentary. "You came for dick, anyway, didn't ya?"

"Why yo' gotta make me say that?" Velma eyed him sidelong. "Y'all KNOW the answer!"

"It's kind of an honesty thing."

"Y'all jus' wanna be able ta laugh..." She tilted up the can, "Got any more dog piss? If Ah'm gonna say shit lahk dat, Ah need ta be able ta blame it on sumpthin'." Ed chuckled and headed for the refrigerator, and Velma added, "Y'all ain't honest, eithah. You could'a left mah ass standin' in da hall, but ya didn't. Ah ain't sittin' here 'cause of no Phillippe."

Ed sighed and kicked the refrigerator door closed, heading back to the couch. "Okay, so, maybe I'm a chicken-shit, but you don't pass it up, ever, ESPECIALLY when you get to be my age. My two heads been arguin' ever since you come through the door, but the li'l one is sneaky and keeps pushin' things out. The flip side is I'm too fuckin' old to learn to be romantical, an' I figure you're gonna start havin' expectations..."

"Huh." Velma took the offered beer. "So, if'n Ah'll jus' admit ta bein' a slut, y'all can put yoah conscience away an' fook, dat right?" She eyed him dubiously.

Ed deflated. "Yah, somethin' like that."

"An' if'n Ah don' wanna do dat?"

Ed re-parked his ass on the sofa, "Well, shit gets harder."

Velma sighed and shook her head. 'A gal's gotta have some self- respect... ' she thought to herself. It looked like she could choose between it and Ed's dick, dammit... Suddenly, inspiration dawned. Pretending to be absorbed in the banter of a half-clad whore enticing a john on the TV screen, she cracked the beer -- but it was tilted, and a serious quantity glugged all over the front of her nightie! "Aw SHIT!" She jumped up and leaned forward, trying to keep the wet area off her skin. "DAMN! Now Ah'm, soaked, Ah smell lahk beer, an' Ah ain't got nuthin' ta change inta!"

Ed hopped up, too, and stood there, looking stupid. There was NO WAY that nightie was going to clear her tits, even bent over; instead, he got a view of miles-deep cleavage that was even more revealed by the transparency of the wet cotton nightdress. "Uh, I'll go get a towel..."

"Best get a blanket -- a towel won't EVEN cover MAH ass! Ah'll go inta da bathroom an' wait, den when y'all bring it, Ah'Il shuck outta dis thing an' wash it in da sink. Y'all are stuck wit' me 'til it dries..."

Velma headed for the bathroom, leaving Ed standing there, realizing that, deliberate or not, he'd been out-maneuvered; if she stayed the night, they'd fuck -- end of story. And she WOULDN'T have to make any damaging admissions! Well, he'd just have to be careful... He headed for his bedroom and jerked the thin cotton blanket off the bed, then rapped on the bathroom door and immediately stuck his head in, "Got the blanket."

Velma was still wearing the nightie. "Ah KNEW you was gonna try ta peep on me, ya ol' bastid! Hurry up an' gimme dat thing, Ah'm beginnin' ta smell lahk a brewery!"

Ed grinned and handed over the blanket, then returned to the couch. Velma had apparently soaked up most of the beer -- there was very little on the couch. He swabbed it off with a towel, then headed for the bedroom where he shucked out of his sweats and boxers, then put the sweats back on. Might as well give up and go for the gusto -- and that included making the whole thing a bit easier. The sweatshirt came off, too, replaced by T- shirt with a beer ad on it; things were likely to get warm...

Velma was grinning from ear to ear as she cleaned up in the bathroom. NOW, she'd get it, for sure -- an' she WOULDN'T have to make any damaging admissions! 'Ah GOT dat ole bastid DIS time!' she thought gleefully to herself. Humming, she rinsed the nightie and threw it over the shower curtain bar to dry, then washed herself with a washrag and Ed's deodorant soap, not only hitting the beery spots, but her armpits, cleavage, under her big jugs, and around her cooze and ass. She patted some areas dry with his bath towel, but figured she'd better let her cooze and pits air dry, or she'd hear about how she made the towel stink. The ole bastid was pretty predictable like that... Finally, she wrapped herself in the blanket, choosing to hold it behind her, rather than in front; that way, she could just cover herself on the couch, rather than remaining wrapped up.

Emerging from the bathroom, Velma noted Ed's change of shirt, "Did Ah spill some on ya?"

"Naw, I just figured that if you were gonna be wrapped in a blanket, you was gonna get hot -- and since I'm sittin' next to ya..."

"Y'all probly right." Velma moved over and prepared to park, fluffing the blanket and seating herself while it draped, granting a momentary glimpse of her big chocolate shanks as she did so. "Ah cain't be wrappin' mahself in dis thing -- Ah'd broil! Ah gotta jus' hide under it..." She passed Ed a sly glance; the blanket draped over him, too, as it settled -- as expected.

But of course that wasn't the only odd activity going on in the bachelor apartments. Leticia had taken some time and great pains to arrive in the hallway outside Boris' door unobserved -- especially since anyone who observed her would see ALL of her! Now, huddling there to minimize her exposure, she timorously knocked on the big Georgian's door.

Boris was sitting on his couch, a towel girdling his waist. He'd bathed about an hour before, then gone down and enjoyed a bit of time in the hot tub, which reminded him of the public baths at home, despite the fact that his enjoyment was regularly solitary. Now, it was late, so he was plopped on his couch nursing a bottle of vodka and watching soft porn; in a bit, he'd probably ease the pressure in his heavy balls before hitting the sack. Since it was Friday, and the Boss wasn't entertaining some noisy slut, things would probably get off to a slow start in the morning and he could sleep in until seven or so. Otherwise, it was just another day at the dacha...

But there was a knock at his door, and a female voice calling his name -- when had THAT ever happened before? Maybe the Boss wanted something... Boris got up, scratching his shaggy chest, and shuffled to the door, "Da?"

"Oh, thank God! Let me in, PLEASE!" It was the little negress, Leticia, and she was VERY naked!

Boris stood back to let her pass without thinking about it. "Where are your clothes?" He stood there, holding the door open while he glowered at her. "Are you playing a game? A joke on old Boris? I do not feel like playing games -- I'm not dressed for it."

"Mr. Wilson has my clothes," Leticia whimpered. "Please close the door!"

Boris stuck his head out into the hallway and glanced around warily; the hallway was deserted. Withdrawing, he closed the door, then turned to Leticia. "Why do you trouble Boris? Why not Phillippe, or Pete, or Ed? Why Boris?"

"I was sent here," Leticia replied.

"I do not understand." Boris continued to glower, and it was a more or less fearsome thing to stand before it.

Leticia shivered a moment, then gathered herself. "Let me explain." Boris waved his hands, indicating that she should continue. "I offended Mr. Wilson tonight. He became very angry with me over some things I said and did in the presence of his daughter's friends. He-he had Miz Sharon sex me with a dildo, and then he sent me to you."

"And what am I to do with you, eh?" Boris asked.

"You're to use me..."

"For what?" Boris scoffed, "Sex? A skinny, brittle thing like you? Boris break you in half!"

"It is what Mr. Wilson wants! Call Charles! He'll tell you!"

"You stand there! Do not move. I will call Charles, and if you lie..." Boris lumbered to his house phone and punched for Charles. "Charles? It is Boris..."

"You have a visitor?" Charles cut him off.

"Da, the negress -- she is..."

"I know all about it, Boris. Is she still naked?"

"Da."

"Mr. Wilson has given her to you to use for the night. She spouted a bunch of racist comments, and Mr. Wilson wants her well used, to teach her her place."

"Used? As in sex?"

"Yes. Use any hole you wish -- her mouth, her useless cunt, her ass -- keep her all night. Fill her full of white spunk. If she gives you any crap, slap her around a bit -- but don't do any permanent damage. Understand?"

"Da."

"This is punishment; don't think you have to do anything to make her happy. It should all go the other way. Call me in the morning and tell me how she did -- if it wasn't satisfactory, I'm instructed to mete out further punishment," Charles added. "All right?"

"Da."

"Hand her the phone."

Boris stuck out the phone, "Take this. Talk to Charles."

Leticia collected it gingerly, "Yes?"

"You're to spend the night. See to it that he's happy; if you don't, he has my permission to slap you around. I'm sure you realize that that authority comes from Mr. Wilson himself. By the way, what took you so long?"

"I didn't want to be seen."

Charles chuckled, and Leticia shivered. Nothing good could come of THAT sound... "Go service your white man!" Charles hung up.

Leticia put down the phone. Boris's truculence was gone; in its place, a lascivious gleam lit his eyes. "So, you do not lie -- but you do not tell all, either! You are Boris's slave for the night -- ALL night! Boris may not break you, but anything less... Come here!" Leticia stepped forward, and he grasped her biceps and shook her, "Drop the hands!"

Leticia did as she was told. Lord, he was so strong! The shake made her teeth rattle!

Boris looked disgusted, "Skinny model types! Little, tiny titties! No meat on your bones! You cannot handle REAL sex -- you probably do not know what real sex is! You cannot take a man!" Boris pounded his chest to make his point.

Leticia got the point; this wasn't a man -- Boris was a bear! Huge, hairy -- even on his back! -- shambling, barrel-chested... A bear!

Boris hauled downward on the arm, and Leticia's knees collapsed. "Open the towel," he grunted. "Suck!"

Leticia did as she was told, exposing Boris's still limp phallus and heavy balls. Boris grabbed her head and dragged it to his crotch, grunting, "You will drink from Boris's fountain tonight; you should be at least as good at sucking my essence as your sister, the Wench!"

The Wench! That white slut? Boris was going to compare her to the Wench? "But she's a slave!"

Boris glowered, "At least SHE KNOWS what she IS! SUCK, worthless slut! You, too, are slave!"

Crestfallen, Leticia took in Boris's uncut length. It wasn't much at first, but almost immediately, it began to grow and thicken -- mostly thicken! Soon, it was racking her jaws and she was struggling to work it without choking. So thick! Amazing!

Boris had one hand in her hair and was mauling her right nipple with the other. "You need to have children -- if you give suck to a baby or two, maybe these tiny things will fatten up, eh? Push back the foreskin and work in the tip! Yessss..." He stood there a moment, savoring her efforts, then pulled her head back by the grip he had on her hair, "I am tired of standing. We will go to the couch." Boris was pretty sure what the Boss wanted, so he maintained his grip on Leticia's hair, controlling her with it while he moved to the couch, enjoying the power play.

The hair-pulling didn't hurt Leticia as much as it might have because Boris had a good handful, and Leticia wasn't fighting him, at all! The realization that the hairy giant could rip her to pieces quelled all resistance, firming her resolve to give him everything Mr. Wilson (she'd long since stopped thinking of him as Armand -- now he was Mr. Wilson, or in her private thoughts, Master) demanded of her. She barked her knees as Boris crash-landed on the couch, dragging her with him, but the accompanying exclamation just meant that her mouth was open when he again dropped it over his thick, uncut meat. "Such big, thick, soft lips," Boris grunted. "You should do this more often."

"Mmmph." It was agreement. Leticia pushed back his foreskin with her lips and dug her tongue in the exposed surfaces. Boris was a little bit gamey, but that seemed to add to things. The involuntary nature of the act had Leticia wet, wild, and willing; she braced her forearms on the couch alongside his tree-trunk legs and used her mouth to make love to his hard, fat length.

Boris couldn't remember having enjoyed himself so much, even as a young man! The negress' mouth was superb, and the feeling of power granted by the situation enhanced things tremendously! Things were quickly coming to a head... "Da... Da... I shoot now -- you swallow every drop, eh? You drink from Boris." Felicia locked eyes with him, watching carefully as he began to rumble and shake, pulling back a bit, but working her tongue under his foreskin to tease the sensitive glans. "Da... DA! Swallow, whore!" The head of Boris's cock swelled to the point that Leticia didn't think she could get it out past her teeth as she watched his heavy balls rise and pulse, followed instantly by an even bigger pulse along his shaft and a gout of thick, gooey semen.

Leticia had read somewhere that, tall tales to the contrary, the average ejaculation was less than a tablespoon; Boris beat THAT with his first shot, and he fired off four before settling back to a dribble. Leticia swallowed, and swallowed again, "Gooo..." Lordy! He was a monster! He had balls like a horse!

"Da," Boris grunted satisfaction and settled back. "You drink from Boris a few times, maybe you get to be a big girl, eh? Maybe Boris make your belly big, too! Put some milk in these..." He reached out to maul her small breasts with his big, hard hands. "Climb up here," he patted the couch seat, "head toward there," pointing at the couch arm, "and spread your legs. "I want to see your cat -- your pussy, nyet?" Leticia climbed onto the couch and knelt up, facing the indicated direction, but Boris growled, "Nyet! Nyet! On your back! Spread your legs!"

After a few rapid adjustments, Leticia found herself on her back with one leg propped over the couch back watching the big groundskeeper grope her with his calloused hand. Sliding a thick finger along her gash, he picked up moisture and inserted it in her tunnel, muttering, "Eh, you are wet! You like drinking Boris's essence, then, slut?"

"Y-yes!" Leticia was excited beyond all reason, frankly! The whole thing made very little sense; she'd come in contact with the big -- Russian? -- something like that -- on a number of occasions, and considered him to be merely boorish and not worthy of her attention. But here, under THESE conditions, a very different Boris had emerged. While he no doubt had been physically imposing all along, she'd never noticed, because he had always operated in the background, not exerting himself to the point of attracting her attention. Tonight, however, normal rules of conduct did not apply -- and Boris took charge of her fate with an ease that was positively frightening -- and terribly exciting! Leticia knew that she would never view him the old way again...

Boris continued to work a thick digit in her cunt. "Maybe you look forward to feeling my -- how you say?" He grasped his still-erect cock between two fingers and waggled it.

"Um, prick?" That's what her brothers had always called it...

"Nyet! This too thick for prick, not so?" Boris was teasing her.

"Um, yeah. Uhh, cock?"

"Da! Cock! You want Boris's cock in there?" He wriggled the buried finger.

"Yessss!" Leticia hissed. Since feeling its massive thickness, she'd been imagining it almost constantly.

"Maybe I put it here, instead?"

Boris reached across and another thick finger probed at her sphincter. 'Oh, no! I'll be split in half!' Fear flashed through her -- but she knew better than to argue... Surging, raising her hips, she gasped, "If you want to."

"Da," Boris agreed, "If I want to." He poked and prodded both of her nether holes for a moment, not really getting into her anus. "I have never done that -- you will be my first." Almost unconsciously, Boris had come to grips with something that hadn't quite penetrated to Leticia yet -- tonight would not be the last time the narrow black woman delivered herself into his hands. Boris KNEW this, without being able to consciously discuss the reasons; the situation existed, and that was that. She would return, willingly or unwillingly -- and eventually, it would ALWAYS be willingly; if circumstances didn't force her, hunger would. Her reactions to him were too clear, too strong, too genuine. On the other hand, HE was surprised at HIS response to the scrawny negress -- if asked, he'd have indicated that he favored more husky women, like the cook, Velma. Negresses had never entered his thoughts as possible sex partners, either -- but his erection was still rock hard, despite her doing her best to suck his balls dry... "My bed is in there, slut," he grunted, pointing. "Go arrange yourself on it just like this, and Boris will be along to give you fuck." Leticia rolled off the couch and headed in the indicated direction; Boris went around turning off lights and the television. "Turn on a light! Boris wants to watch you wrap yourself around his cock!" Boris chuckled -- besides, he needed to see his way to the bedroom...

"Well, that's turning out better than expected, don't you think?" Armand grinned slyly at Sharon as she huddled beside him.

"Uuuhhh!" Sharon moaned, riding the two fingers Armand had inserted into her juicy pussy. Her finger whirled on her clit, Armand having given her permission to augment his efforts moments before. She was deeply embarrassed to be masturbating, but the video, recent events, and Armand's fingers generated a burning need, and she was SOOOOOO close!

"Shall we watch the finish, then?" Armand teased, then grasped her left nipple and squeezed, harshly.

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!" Sharon screamed, throwing back her head and arching herself -- but it was a scream of joy more than a scream of pain, as the intense sensation rocketed her over the brink.

Armand shifted the inputs, murmuring, "Maybe I'll fuck you again..."

Naked Marco Polo in Jimmy's pool had about seen it's run. Randall caught Darla Jean in short order -- no surprise, given the conspiracy involved -- then, after a whispered conference, Mary, Stick, and Teddy basically drove Jimmy into Darla Jean's arms, after which he made loud, happy noises about being thoroughly felt up, to Amy's amusement. Then Jimmy had very blatantly hunted down Amy, an effort that took several minutes because the others regularly interposed themselves as shields, knowing what was up. Now Jimmy and Amy were necking in the middle of the pool, and the others were reaching the point of discomfort with the cooling water and even cooler air. "I gotta get out," Stick complained. Nobody argued; he was showing a bluish tinge that might have been the pool lighting and might have been cold -- and there were definite goose-bumps.

"Me, too!" Teddy announced. Once the exodus had started, the pool was clear in moments, Jimmy going last and berating the others for being lightweights while visibly shivering. Inside the pool house, the groups clustered as couples (and the triple), drying each other and helping each other dress. Mary dragged Stick and Teddy off to the corner on the excuse that it was warmer there, and she wanted Stick warmed up, but the actual purpose was quiet conversation. Stick kicked it off, "Settin' up Jimmy for Darla Jean was fun, but I got the feelin' there was more to it..."

Mary grinned, "Well, Jimmy wanted to be caught, bad -- but, yeah, it was more about Darla Jean. Look, guys, can we take Darla Jean and Randall back to my place?"

Stick frowned, "Won't that fuck shit up?" He raised an eyebrow and turned to Teddy, who also had visible reservations.

"Hear me out, now," Mary cajoled. "Darla Jean and Randall are getting their thing off the ground, but they're different than you and me. I understand kind of dimly what's up, but I'm sure Teddy will understand better, since he's a brain..." Mary grinned; Teddy responded visibly to the verbal stroke. "When couples date, usually there's some romance. By the time they get to sex, there is an emotional commitment."

"We didn't really do shit that way," Stick grunted.

"Well, we're different, too, but what we have works. But Darla Jean and Randall went at it as sex, too, and are only now looking at romance -- only they're both hothouse brains, so romance is something they're pretty leery of -- get my drift?"

Teddy looked thoughtful; Stick grunted, "Okay, so they're stupid..."

"That's the problem, Stick! They're NOT stupid! They're both VERY SMART! So they look at things scientifically, instead of just going with the flow!" Mary pressed. "They're suspicious -- frankly, lots of other people ought to be because they get into relationships that won't last based on just feelings -- and feelings change..."

Stick turned a dubious expression on Teddy, but Teddy was nodding. "You buyin' this? I thought it was all about feelings..."

"Well, it is," Teddy ventured, "but smart people like to be able to find other things, too -- things that indicate that the whole thing makes sense. Things that show that their partners are good for them in some way... Smart people need reasons, not just feelings..."

"Okay," Stick allowed, still dubious. "An' all this is goin' -- where?"

"Well, for them to be able to prove that one choice is better than another, they need to be able to make comparisons..." Mary resumed.

"Mmmm, yes -- and run tests..." Teddy nodded.

"What kind of comparisons?" Stick asked suspiciously. "What kind of tests?"

Mary sighed, dropping the general conversational level by lowering her voice. "Stick, am I a good fuck?"

"Good enough for me..."

"Yeah, but is that 'good'?" Teddy took this up -- he was more comfortable with the subject. "How do you know that Mary isn't just okay, and that there isn't a LOT better out there?"

"That don't seem to matter to me -- there's other shit involved," Stick grunted.

Teddy shrugged. "I couldn't agree more -- but people who are scientifically trained want to know 'how much' and 'why' and stuff like that. So they want to look at more than one version of things."

"And?"

Mary rolled her eyes. "Darla Jean wants to look at more than one type of pecker, okay? And she wants to know if Randall can handle it!"

Stick rocked on his heels. "Well, I wouldn't fuckin' like it if I was him..."