Chapter 1

This is story number fourteen in a series of stories about how Bobby Dalton was transformed, from a normal teenage boy, into a man sought after by many women. His story starts with “The Making of a Gigolo - Tilly Johnson,” and there is much information in that first story, and the ones that followed it, that will be useful to you in understanding what happens in this story.

For your fullest enjoyment, and because parts of each story are continued in succeeding ones, please read the stories in order.

Additionally, there are a number of references in the plot of this story to the musical “Brigadoon.” If the reader is unfamiliar with that musical, it might be worth taking time to review a description of the production before or while reading this story.

And if you ever get a chance to see the musical ... do it. It’s a great show.

Bob

1975 - November

November was tumultuous month for Bobby and a number of the women who loved him. Of course, by this time in his life, that seemed routine.

The first thing that happened was that Betty and Matilda both missed their periods. They’d been having them together for as long as they’d been having them. When they realized what had happened, of course, they discussed it.

“What are we going to do?” asked Betty, who often, but not always, deferred to Matilda.

“We’re going to have babies, stupid!” said Matilda, who was feeling ill.

“What’s Mamma going to say?” moaned Betty.

“I don’t know, and I don’t want to know.” Matilda sounded scared.

“We have to tell her.”

“No we don’t.”

“We can’t hide it! Not for long!” Betty’s voice got loud.

“Hush!” whispered Matilda. “We can hide it for as long as possible.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Tildy,” whined Betty.

“Well, I don’t know what else to do.”

“We could talk to Bobby.”

“He warned us this would happen,” sighed Matilda. “He’ll just yell at us too.”

“How can he yell at us?” complained Betty. “He’s the one who got us this way! He’s in as much trouble as we are!”

“Did anybody yell at him for getting all those other women that way?” insisted Matilda. “Did Mamma yell at him for getting her that way?”

Had they sat back and listened to themselves, they might have laughed. They were worried about something that had happened before. They knew it had happened before, with some of their sisters, and with their own mother. It was highly unlikely that anyone in their own family would have a moral platform from which to yell at them.

But, as so often happens, the youngest children in the family retained some aspects of their childhood much longer than they should.

Another thing that shook things up, at least to some degree, was when Bobby got a call from Jill, who asked him to come to the house.

“Sure,” he said. It wasn’t at all unusual for him to spend time there, both playing with his children, and making love to their mothers.

When he got there, though, Jill looked very sober.

“I need to talk to you,” she said.

“Talking is one of my talents,” he joked.

“Sal figured out that you’re Steven’s father.”

Bobby knew Jill had been going out on dates with her old employer. He approved, because he liked Sal. He was afraid, though, that this meant Sal had dumped her.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Yes,” she frowned, “and no.”

He waited. He knew she’d go on.

“He asked me to marry him.”

It was only because it was unexpected that it took a moment for his face to split into a wide grin.

“That’s fantastic, Jill!”

She smiled weakly. “It is, isn’t it.”

“Of course it is!” he said. He paused. “Unless you don’t want to accept. Is that the problem?”

Her eyes widened. “No! That’s not it. I do want to. I think I love him.” Her eyes narrowed. “No, I know I love him.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“You’re the problem,” she said.

He frowned. “Look, Jill. You know I love Steven, but I can’t lay claim to you. Not because of him. I thought you didn’t think about me that way anyway.”

“I don’t think of you that way,” she said. “But if I tell Sal I’ll marry him, I can’t see you anymore.”

Bobby stared at her. He couldn’t tell if she still wanted to see him ... or not.

“What, exactly, are you worried about?” he asked.

“I don’t want to hurt your feelings,” she said, looking uncomfortable.

“You won’t hurt my feelings,” he said. “Just tell me what you’re worried about.”

“I just did.” She looked confused.

He blinked. “Could you be a little more specific about it?” he asked, hopefully.

“We’ve been lovers for years,” she said. “I love you, and I know you love me. But if I marry Sal ... if I accept his proposal, I won’t sleep with you anymore. That wouldn’t be fair to Sal.”

“Of course not,” said Bobby. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“You wouldn’t?”

Then he got it. She was worried that he’d feel like she broke up with him, or something like that. He took her hands in his.

“Sweetie, I couldn’t be happier that you found someone to love that way. You have so much to give to a man, and you deserve so much. Sal’s a good man. I’ll miss what we’ve shared, but I can’t be unhappy about stopping. Not if it means you get the kind of happiness you deserve.”

Tears filled her eyes and she rubbed at them with the heels of her hands.

“Oh, come on,” he said. “Don’t cry. You should be happy!”

“I am happy, you idiot!” she yipped, and leapt to hug him. “Thank you so much.”

“What are you thanking me for?” he said, trying to sound jovial. “All I did was knock you up and then refuse to marry you. You should hate me.”

“I could never hate you,” she said into his chest. “I’ll always love you.”

“You save that for Sal,” he said, disengaging from her. This kind of physical and emotional closeness had led to them dragging each other to bed many times in the past.

In his mind, though, Jill Trimble was already off limits.

Two days later, he got a call from Renee.

“Hi,” he said. “What’s up?”

“This is Renee Harqart,” she said, formally.

“I know that,” he said. “Is anything wrong?”

“No!” she said, sounding frustrated. “I said this is Renee Harqart, Bobby ... not Renee Zimmerman!”

He still didn’t get it. “Okay,” he said, carefully.

“I got my annulment decree from Nevada, you dope!” she yelled.

“Wow! That’s great!” he yelled.

“I want to celebrate,” she said. “Tonight ... with you.”

“What time?” he asked, thinking she was throwing a party. He’d been to see both Renee and their son a number of times since Robert had been born. She hadn’t expressed any overt signs, however, that she wanted to sleep with him, and he hadn’t pressed it. It wasn’t hard for him to believe that a woman who’d had a man’s unplanned baby might not be interested in continuing the activities that had created that baby.

Renee was also thinking about their son, though in a different way. She was putting him down for the night around eight these days. He’d started to sleep through the night fairly regularly now.

“Eight-thirty,” she said.

Bobby thought that was late to start a party, especially for a woman who would have to be up the next morning around six, to get ready for children to arrive at her childcare center. But it was her celebration, so he didn’t say anything other than “I’ll be there. You want me to bring anything?”

“Just yourself,” she said.

Despite her denial that he needed to bring anything, Bobby wanted to take something. He knew she was nursing, so it couldn’t be wine. He also knew she loved expensive cheeses, so he stopped at the new deli that had opened up in town and asked for “something fancy.” He knew he’d misunderstood when he got to her house and there were no cars in the driveway.

She was waiting for him. The door was standing open when he got to it. She was hugging what looked like a flannel robe around her.

“Hurry up!” she yipped. “It’s cold!”

“You didn’t have to stand in the door,” he said, smiling. “I know how to get in.”

“I was too excited to just stand around,” she said, pulling him inside and closing the door.

“I thought this was going to be a party,” he said, extending the brick of very expensive cheese.

“It is,” she said. She lifted the package to her nose and inhaled deeply. “Mmmmmm, it smells delicious ... but it can wait.”

She handed the cheese back to him.

“Would you be a darling and put that in the fridge for me? Then come to my office.”

He grinned and headed to the kitchen. When he entered the office, he stopped short. She was leaning backwards against the desk, her hands on it, like they were helping to hold her up. She wasn’t wearing the robe any longer. She had taken it off to reveal something that was quite useless for either keeping her warm or wearing to bed. It held her breasts up, for example, but did not cover them. The panties matched, but were much smaller than the smallest bikini. Her breasts were swollen, milky white, with very dark nipples, and he could see blue veins tracing all over them.

“My, my,” he sighed, drinking in her beauty.

“I got this just for you,” she said, almost shyly.

“It’s gorgeous.”

“I feel silly,” she said. There was yearning in her voice.

“You shouldn’t feel silly,” he said. “I hope you can run fast.”

“What?” She was confused.

“I’m getting ready to chase you all over the house,” he said, smiling.

“You won’t have to chase me very far.” Her voice was husky.

He didn’t lurch toward her, though. In fact, he stepped toward her very slowly. Her eyes were pinned to his, and her lips parted as her breathing rate increased. He stopped, almost touching her, but not quite.

“This is what got you in trouble last time,” he said softly.

“I never wore anything like this for you before,” she whispered.

“You know what I mean.” He let his eyes go down to take in her pillowy breasts, then brought them back up to her face. “That outfit could get you in serious trouble tonight.”

“Why do you think I’m wearing it?”

The alarm clock roused Renee, and she rolled toward it instinctively, to shut it off, but ran into a soft/hard warm body. An arm from that body reached out, found the alarm clock, fumbled with it, and made it go silent.

She let her arm come down on his body, and stroked him with her hand, from his chest, to where his soft pubic hair started. His stomach sucked in and she knew she was tickling him.

“Good morning,” she said, kissing his right nipple.

“I thought you finally cried uncle last night,” he mumbled.

“That was then. This is now.” She kissed his nipple again. “The troops have retreated, regrouped, rested and are ready to sally forth again into glorious battle.”